Not much to write about this weekend.  Business as usual.  Loaded up for the road with Bob and Kurt opting to bring Mrs. Birch and Mullins respectively;  Monty, Kelley, Jeff and I hauling the trailer to Council Bluffs Friday afternoon.  One of the coolest things that happened all weekend was the SUV with South Dakota Plates driving up beside us about 40 miles out of Sioux City with a gal hanging out of the passenger side window holding a Profane Saints Koozie in…

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Alright- first off.  I'm not broke.  Not completely anyway.  All of my crew and band members are gainfully employed at their day jobs and the band/music has become a second job for us.  After going through our receipts (not including hotel costs, food etc.)  There's no polite way of putting this.  We're taking it in the rear with no lube.  No joke.  Gas prices are killing us.   Food is going up but we can pack a cooler, which helps.  Hotels?  Half of the songs I write are about dirty, dingy…

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 As we rolled east down I-90 on an unending stretch of badland Dakota highway I saw a lone truck stop in the middle of nowhere.  Run down, falling apart and blowing away in the spring wind.  I felt I was looking into the future through some prophetic window flashing scenes of the pending apocalypse.  That moment inspired one of the first of what I suspect to be many road songs to come.  Here's what I came up with…

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We pulled into the Hotel and Casino around 1pm on Friday afternoon.  The skies were overcast and made the prairie look a little bit foreboding in a good way.  We all checked in and were pleasantly surprised how nice the rooms were.  They were comped as well along with two meals per guy.  We could get used to this.   

 

Surrounded by the typical casino fare of elderly gamblers, hundreds of ashtrays, plastic cups and the smell of meat and potatoes and cigarette smoke hanging…

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