technically its morning the next day. . .
waking up in the middle of the night.
check on the kids nestled there across the room.
the room filled with the symphonic breathing again.
i flicker on this contraption and try and buy this last ticket for dour drummer on this endless jaunt.
the price has mysteriously gone back down and i nab it.
then before going back to sleep i wonder where i am.
i can’t remember.
the family is all here, but i can’t quite think where it is we are. maybe italy. or denmark. i have no idea. i look around the dark for clues, not even realizing i just bought a ticket for peter to come wherever it is we are. there must be a term for this condition.
the brain has shut off. it won’t allow me to facilitate my location. or maybe it feels more like its getting back at me for traveling too much.
everyday a different country. it has had a lot to reconfigure on a daily basis and now seeks revenge.
where am i ?
outside the sun seems to be waking up slowly and blue-greyly.
i apt for ignoring the brain’s game.
turn over and look for some sleep.
will let the morning figure itself out without me.
– – - — – — – – - – – - – — – -
so the blue eyes (people in the family) head to barcelona to check out the barce stadium and take some photos with a cardboard messi .the brown eyes that are left behind take to the streets of tarragona. we come upon a human castille just at the moment they begin to mount. we are standing right next to them, but am looking the other way at something and my little girl tugs on my arm to inform that people are climbing on top of each other behind me. she’s right. it’s the local custom here, a tradition like running with the bulls or smashing each other with tomatoes, some of the other spanish pastimes in certain specific cities. here they mount each other 4 or 5 high. they say even higher sometimes.
the men on bottom. then the woman on their shoulders. then the older kids on their’s. and finally smaller kids with helmets get up on theirs. and in the end 2 or 3 very little kids clamor up to the top of the shaking human castle and do a leap frog thing at the very top near the tree tops. the look on their faces is unforgettable. there is a severe and stern focus on them kids. they know this is not a game. their eyes have the speck of fear and the bulk of respect for their position. and they are so very determined to accomplish. the face is almost a cartoon, a ‘peanuts’ character, peppermint patty with that flat lined tight mouth and a bit of tongue sticking out. eyes round and staring ahead. not much nose. the helmet making their heads big and round too.
its amazing. us brown eyes are blessed here with immediate proximity of towering humans.
then the kids slide down the humans like they were slipping down a fire man’s pole. we stand there astonished. the crowd applause.
then off to shop.
flip flops for the girl, and at her insistence, a new bathing suit she picked out for pop.
– – — – – - –
me and thøger head to sound check. will have to do peter’s drums a bit too. its outdoors, this one. didn’t see that coming, but why would i?
we do it quickly, Miguel has shown up to do the sound board. tonight we will be yet another variation on this run. is it the 6th or 7th variation of whatever it is we do? the power trio. me with only the 1959 martin with original d’armond pick-up innit to ca-chunk the night away.
once done, we beach it. a local deliver us to a nice one. water must be warmer then the atlantic, but still chilled. my new suit feels fine too.
we hang there for a while, then fetched to the hotel, quick change and back to the stage for the giant paella. the blue eyes have returned. peter has showed up. we are well clustered again.
that night we take the stage at midnight. my son sticks around and assists. the crowd has been lethargic with the previous bands. but they spark to life when we amp up. this continues to surprise me, especially the younger crowds. what do they get out of me and this mess and what do i sound like now ? at some point i venture in to my ‘little feet’ homage with “brand new swamp thing” and pronounce lowell george’s name so they might understand. the rest of the set is chunky and bright, me with my 2 amps hooked together. (that’s the trick with playing outdoor scenes, 2 amps in tandem, somehow they provide a huge circle sound wave that sounds the same as a single amp at an indoor stage. make a not of that. its science. )
at the end they want more and more. so i have to kill them with “light my fire”, and its really starting to sound like it makes sense. i think.
peter looks like he is having a great time. thøger is tickled too. all is well on planet sand. we get done. almost nothing to pack up. we leave.
a good sweaty set. we mingle with the crowd a bit and notice their lethargic patina for the following band. were we the headliners ?
one cold drink and then a fine walk past ancient roman ruins to the room to find some sleep.
a fine day in ruins.