Mill Valley CA
I know it sounds very old ladyish of me, but I found the cutest little farmer's market today! Haha. I don't know why, but it was nice walking around looking at the fruits and vegetables these people raised. Maybe it's an underlying human connection thing. So I had to make a few purchases. Pecan Chewie, some plums, an oyster, and a donut peach (which I had never heard of, but it was delicious). I sat on the boardwalk of the Mill Valley-Tamalpais Path, alone in the sun, and enjoyed my finds. On the Richardson Bay, which feeds into the San Francisco Bay. In the Tamalpais-Homestead Valley.
The show at Sweetwater Music Hall was a blast. Some friends of ours from the record label came to see us. Great people. It gives me some comfort about my future and turning my life upside down for all of this.
In my drunkenness, I came up with a cheesy but pertinent motivational tag line: The only thing that can destroy you is your own fear. So don't let it.
MILL VALLEY, CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES • 68° SUNNY
Day 40: The Final Show
Mill Valley CA to Crystal Bay NV
Tonight we are playing the Crystal Bay Casino that sits right on Lake Tahoe. It's hard to believe that tonight is the last show. It seems as though Corpus Christi was yesterday. Yet with a lifetime in between. A lifetime overnight.
So it's a little sad. I'm also fucking thrilled to get back to a casino. I'm also terrified of the potential, perhaps eminent, debauchery that could ensue tonight. The Wild Feathers and Ryan Bingham crews one last night to party. At a casino. Holy shit. This is going to get out of hand.
I-80 E, AUBURN, CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES • 82° SUNNY
Crystal Bay NV to Lake Point UT
Strangely enough, last night did not end up being as crazy as I thought it might be. You never know. Some nights you predict a huge party but it never really pops. Other nights you wonder if there is anything fun to do in a tiny Wyoming town. Next thing you know you've fired up an entire bar crowd, people can't stop buying you drinks, girls are fighting over you. Better to wonder than to expect.
We did have a blast, for sure. Played a very emotional show. Drank. Gambled. Mischief, etc. Today we start the 3 trek back to Nashville. The long walk home. Or some version of a home.
I-80 E, WELLS, NEVADA, UNITED STATES • 68° CLEAR
Lake Point UT to Mound City MO
Black, starless night. 14 hours in. Rolling through Nebraska. Flat farm land, big sky. Off to the left and right cuts a horizon of vacuum-black land meeting barely illuminated frosted glass sky.
Trees are few and far between, their bloated silhouettes loom large. Every now and then we pass a large and lonely farmhouse that appears vacant and ominous. Maybe even dangerous, certainly sepulchral. Though the beams of our headlights search desperately, they cannot find an end to the yellow line in the road. It merely fades away in the asphalt sprawl in front of us, just barely under a lightning storm we are zeroed in on. Barreling towards. Bombs exploding in the clouds. Electrical wires slicing the black void. The farms, the trees, the deathly houses spark into sight. Only for a moment, tauntingly. Was that a house there? What was that shape? Who was that lone person in the field?
The night is huge, everywhere and everything, all we have.
US-75, UNION, NEBRASKA, UNITED STATES • 81°
Mound City MO to Nashville TN
44 days later, I stepped back in to my beautiful loft in my favorite city, Nashville, TN. 44 days. That's a lot of goodbyes to have to say. To all the dear friends I met and re-met along the way. That's a lot of goodbyes I never got to say. To the life I once had here - and to the home - that I never realized I was truly leaving behind until I was already way gone. Committed to leaving sometime forever ago, though finally conceptualized it as such along those 44 days.
I had been very nervous about returning home. How would I feel coming back here? Once something that defined me, now a broken picture frame, the glass shattered, and the picture blown away by the wind. So it is sad. But not as sad as I had dreaded. I am going to enjoy it. I'm going to love my dogs and stretch out in a desirable solitude. I'm not going to wallow in all the potential pain I could muster.
The moment that made me the most sentimental occurred when I was outside. Taking my dogs out to use the bathroom before bed, walking along the river, them bound to me by leashes and love. Like we have done countless nights before. A late night barge hummed by, its wake lapped the rocks. I looked back up at the building and saw my bedroom window illuminated from within. Just as I had so many countless nights before. Those nights I would look at the window, and find such immeasurable joy knowing that my love was in that bedroom. Lying in that bed waiting for me to come and turn off the light and lie beside her. With her. There. For her.
Now I am lying in that same bed, alone. But it is not the same bed. This bed feels like the bed in which a dead friend once slept. And this loft, this beautiful loft, this once-proud home, is a place I will say goodbye to forever in a few days when I hit the road for the next tour. Because I will not be returning here. Not to this cadaverous loft. It is not my home. It is a ghost's home.
If you want something, want it bad. So bad that it hurts. Let that pain burn you until you cannot take it anymore and then make the world feel it. If you want everything, you better be ready to give everything. Because it will cost you. It will fucking cost you everything and more. And you can have everything. Yes, everything. But, you cannot have it all.
You'd better be ready to sit in a van and smell dudes' farts for 44 days.
Just kidding. Peace. Goodnight.
508 LOFTS, NASHVILLE, TN, UNITED STATES • 86° PARTLY CLOUDY
Go to The Wild Feather's website now and learn all about them. Catch up on Ben Jarvis' last entry here and all of his previous entries are listed to the right under Notes from the Road - believe me, you want to read them all.
• December 2013
• November 2013
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• December 2012
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• December 2011
• November 2011
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• December 2010
• November 2010
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• September 2010