Awoke to something absolutely amazing...
The heat and humidity had broke like a fever and it was absolutely gorgeous out. Temps back down to seasonable levels. Sunny but with a surrealist patchwork of clouds. One thing you will notice in my instagram pics: I love to take pictures of the sky.
Clouds and atmospheric conditions change minute to minute.
Look up at the sky, and in 60 seconds it will look completely different, and will never ever again look like it did that previous minute. 60 minutes in an hour, 24 hours in the day. Over our very heads is one of the most dynamic, ever-changing and awe-inspiring artistic tapestries the human mind can ever experience. Then at night comes the real headlining act -- the stars.
So yeah, I take pics of the sky A LOT. Not only for the artistic beauty of our atmosphere merely being an atmosphere, but my mind is always looking up, looking out. Wondering, wandering. The hamster on the wheel in my brain is a world class Olympic distance runner and sprinter. I often feel bad for the little guy. No wonder I post more existential and outer space-related shit on my personal Facebook page than I post about my own life.
The mid-morning sky, rural Pennsylvania
Slightly different area of sky, a few minutes later
Spend more time looking up, fellow human beings, rather than looking down at the ground. (But do glance down occasional so you don't trip or stub a toe).
This evening we were playing an annual private party for some friends of Rick. Cannot recall the name of the host at this particular juncture, but she was a hardcore and long-time musical collector/bootlegger/trader. Rick once asked her what Bob Dylan she had and a dozen + page list was emailed to him. Yeah.
We were to set up sort of half in/half out of the garage, the day threatened some more rain for the day but had cleared out more or less by that evening. Still, we took no chances. And we had the rest of the multi-car garage so serve as a green room \m/, The weather, and the sunset, were gorgeous.
Cooler of Yeungling and bottled water and materials to make Jager bombs. All manner of excellent food inside, and we were explicitly instructed to make use of it all. Awesome.
There was even a snake tank inside the house on the way to the bathroom:
The gig was weird, but not in a bad way by any stretch of the imagination.
People were playing Cornhole in the driveway ahead of us. It sounds like some unthinkable prison activity. But it's the Pennsylvania term for the game where you throw bean bags onto a slanted wood target with a hole in the center. Still made for lots of jokes and giggles when said game was talked about.
We played well, still feeling good from the whole crystalization of chemsitry from the previous night's gig. Had people dancing, playing cornhole, or talking off to the side under the tent, pausing to clap when we'd finish a song. It was still good, but can be weird being a jukebox sometimes, heh. But I did add another item to my repertoire of faux-Waylon Jennings segways from the Duke of Hazzard show before we play "Good Ole Boys":
(In a country drawl) "I bet right now, them Duke boys are feelin' like a bean bag in a cornhole game!"
It went over very well! \m/,
And then later on, the moon came out:
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