We’ve been following treacherous roads through mountainous splendor. Darwin Deez made it to the Rockies today. The landscapes were some Lord of the Rings magnificence. The expressway is dry and clear, but all the new snow from the shoulder is blown by the wind into countless dusty snakes that appear and vanish before our path. Gusts comes at us from sideways, sometimes so strong and so dense with snow that we can barely see the hazard blinkers of the semi trucks only a few yards in front of us. As the sun set, there were streaks of pink, splashes of orange, yellow green, above purple hills of snow and sleepy convoys of traveling vehicles.
Our slumber arrangement was last night was hardcore. Darwin Deez and Friends and our hosts all piled into a small living room draped in hippie tapestries. It was 3am. Everyone but Matt and I stayed up singing Beatles songs together, acoustic campfire style. Lotta cigarette smoke. I am dealing with a sore throat, so I piled myself into a corner on top of other people’s jackets. Flashed in and out of sleep. A dog was wearing sunglasses, wearing a Zeus mask. When I awoke, I was staring at a giant jug of Jim Beam, next to a giant jar of Pickles, next to piles of slumbering weirdos. It was so punk rock.
In Wyoming now. Cole got a call from Nicki Shapiro. The Friend’s van just burst aflame about 100 miles behind us. They are getting towed into some small Western town. All their equipment and luggage are fine, but the van’s totaled. Frightening. They are gonna find some way to make it work. The show must go on.