posted on March 19, 2015 at 10:10 am
baton rouge

baton rouged

well thats basically that

the tour is over except for SXSW

which isn’t really a gig at all

i am sitting here on the bus in baton rouge

on one side is a fancy hotel

and on the other is a forest or something

the weather is warm and overcast

the weather implies many things to me

warm southern romantic weather or violent weather

around me in this place i pick up on activity

somewhere something is definitely happening

but where i am is warm quiet and uneventful

i am the dim receiver

impressions of other lives wash over me

things that don’t concern me and never will

it is a typical place at the end of a tour

the empty parking lot

the garbage at the edges of the woods

i drink down some spare tincture left on the bus

i wander to a mall and i get a massage from a chinese girl

i enter some other blissful universe that i never want to end

i meet wonderful people in my dreams and wander the skies

when i snap out of it i realise ian has had a massage there  too

and he was also transported elsewhere by the experience

yeah the tour is almost over except for these austin dates

one minute its all before ya

next minute its all in the past

all that noise and heat and sweat and light

all those people

all those mornings with all those coffees

at the end i astonished myself with the energy i could muster

i guess thats thanks to yoga and swimming

i am able to channel some source of mojo

which kicks my ass along all night as i play n sing for 2 hours

its getting darker outside now in baton rouge

and i think off so many other tours

so many other people and many of them now are gone

the times are gone

many of the places are gone

i am still out there treading the boards

but every thing else is changed

rocknroll rocknroll rocknroll

the weird ghosts and the memories

all these times all these tours all these events

but nothing waits out there for me tonight

that is a comfort and a shame

i am out of the game

although very much still a player of song

going from town to town

down the blackened tourbus corridor like a submarine

as we shoot through the greenish snow in the wee wee small hours

as we pick up and lose friends

as we cover great spaces asleep in the jarring blankness of the bunk

the shows are predictably a blur

new york atlanta wherever you like

i bestrode the stage and i gave it my all

so there is nothing more to say about those shows

they speak for themselves no doubt

or not at all

its 707 in Baton Rouge

we leave this car park in 8 hours

i love you all

i guess some yoga must be next

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