it was the first flight i have missed … the flight home .. the brain mush … the little things getting in the way … arriving too late but still 35 minutes before the plane left … no way

so they book us for the next day … so the 4th day of travel commences then instead

a little flu

it hit me on the 9 hour flight back … the last couple hours

not good

then in miami to connect … getting worse… feverish

the plane we boarded there said there would be delays because of bad weather in dallas … and we would have to sit on the plane on the runway in miami

but now i was starting to die … the lady next to me looked afraid she would catch what ever i had

then the captain blurted on the speaker that there was equipment problems and he would be going back to the gate

i took that christmas miracle opportunity to get off (i am an expert now)

i asked for a hotel room … and since i looked so pathetic .. they gave it to me

thoger went on with the plane

i was delivered to the hotel and just sat in the lobby thinking about the strength need to check in

the christmas music will not stop … its everywhere … hotel lobby … airport gates its incessant

then i got my key and crawled up to my room

ahhhhhhhhhhhh h h h h sweet suffering in solitude is much better

i kept waking all night from the fever …

… got up at 4 in the morning to make an early plane … but the clock was wrong .,.. so was really gettin up at 3 … but since i was just in europe in meant really 9 i think

then i could not get out of the room … my brain was gunk … i just stood there befuddling with nothingness … my fever … my brain … my body broke

escaped the room … pushed on

got to the airport and the ordeal of checking in … painful lugging both guitars around

and they will not stop playin that evil christmas music … it is seriously heaving health risks upon me

i get on the plane …but then the captain bvlurts over the speaker again .. he says no go

there is a mechanical problem (again) … so i get on my cell phone and cleverly make a reservation on another flight leaving so i can beat the crowd on because now the captain is deplaning all
the passengers

i run with guitars and fading fever to another gate … its a sold out plane … they give me a middle seat

i get on board and think i cannot stand to be on this plane … feel like i am goin to puke there in the middle seat

i grab both guitars and get off while people are still boarding … impossible you say

but by now people look at me and just stand back

got off the plane and went back to my broken plane where i had a good seat

there was a big line

i crept off to the club for people who fly too much … they treated me like i was checkin into their hospital … i was there poster child

christmas songs playing EVERYWHERE … it was making everything worse

it was hell

i finally got back on my broken plane

they had to replace the nose of the plane

and then flew some hours later to texas and then on to tucson

i went home

i hugged the home

and everything innit

then they let me lay low

nest day woke up better

went to do a national radio interview and did well

then off to school to see the kids plays

then hurried off for a lecture i had to give on this way of life with writer bill carter

that all went well too i think

can’t tell … the lag had wrapped its rag like fog around my brow like the gauze it is

i am healed

and so happy to not smell airplane

so have a happy christmas

get home safe and

sound

hug everything

-howe

the plane landed a couple hours late. but they seemed to hustle us off and in the jammed crowded bus to the terminal like they do.

when we got off the bus they hustled us up to the gate where the plane seemed to be waiting for us. there were about another 7 or so beside us wanting to connect to barcelona here on the island of mallorca.

so we get though the gate and down unto another bus. this bus had no one in it but the few of us gathered there late for the plane. so then the driver gets in up front and off we finally go after waiting an odd bit of time for a plane that’s in a hurry to get us on board.

the bus pulls up to the plane but doesn’t let us off. must be another plane we can only surmise, since the driver is sequestered behind glass up front. and then along the way he jerks to a stop and gabs a bit with a co-worker out on the runway area. then off we go again, and on emore co=worker flags him down to blab. then then he rolls off and parks the van way off to the side where all the other empty buses are parked. its like he is taking us to the area for late passengers due to late arrivals that no one ever hears from again.

he parks the bus and gets out and does not open our doors so we can’t leave. as he strolls by our locked doors, Miguel begins pounding on the glass door, and this took a while for the straled driver to realized he has seriously f@cked up. it must be loud outside with the planes taking off and so he does not hear Miguel pounding on the glass until he finally does and is quite shocked there are people on board the bus at all. actually he is freaked out now.

he jumps back into the drivers seat and roars off. we are all bursting with stunned laughter and snort. he barrels down the runway searching for our plane … as he approaches he begins to frantically laying into his horn … which no one can hear because of the planes taking off and such. he practically runs into the driver of the stairs that have already pulled away from the plane, whose cabin doors have since been shut and locked and of which the tug boat tractor is already in place to shove that plane out of here.

what a farce. its very funny to see him jump out

we get taken to the bavarian radio interview and i just bring the girls, but i am uninspired in playing for some reason. cannot get it together. maybe playing a piano version of “stranded pearl” was not a great idea.
but the vibe is good there and we hang out amongst the old neumans a long tim.

on the way back, i convince the taxi, who is from ethiopia, to stop and let me pick up a good bottle of scotch for the captian of the bus.

its starting to snow on the ride back.
then the show commences.

it is absolutely the best set of music i have been privy to be part of. it was a stunning evening of performance. we played like men about to die. it was that good. we played like men celebrating life. that unbelievably good. man, we were great. if one gig could be the next live record, then we got it.
absolutely stunning.
the end.

outside its still snowing.
the silence and the beauty of it staggers me nicely.

i handed out some christmas gifts to those about to leave before the rest of us head to spain in the morrow by plane. the bus was snug and warm and the chatter of children like band yippity ensued even while we all got bunked. it was family, but the kind only found when nestled in constant motion.

just before dawn, steve left and momma lonna too.
i said my hugs goodbye and then crawled back to bunk.

a couple hours later we are alive again and heading to the airport in the white landscape. sarah still rides along, but will stay in munich an extra day before heading 25 hours back to australia.

we will disembark the mothership in a few minutes and attempt to make sense of our luggage and airport fling.

the end again.

- – - — — —

the plane has left way too late to make our connection in mallorca (which is ironically the city of the absolute worst gig we ever played 5 years ago). i don’t see how we will make it to the festival in barcelona on time. certainly our luggage with the wires and pedals won’t make it. too much de-icing in munich.

anyhow … i leave the row of us with all the band sleeping. i head back to the very last row of the plane. its empty and offers a fine view of the alps as we skirt them magnificently poking out of the clouds and freshly fe=resh snowly coated.

when that scene is over i fish out the ipod gift from zurich. the reward bestowed from a wonder gig there.
i set it on shuffle, and take to typing on this machine.

when i look out the window next, the pyrenees are weighin in to out do the alp scene. they stand spectacularly. i am listening to a variety of things. otis span among them, who was one of the first piano influences of me as a youngun. when the mountains come into view sparkling in the combined atmospheres and crowned with snows, rainer surprisingly comes on the shuffled ipod from zurich. it is fitting and it fits. he is up here and offering me a view of what he might get to see, which is only severely heavenly.

the venue is the one right be the tracks. trains roll by.
they have a good spread for us in there. actual eggs too.
now its ime for some serious christmas shopping. last chance to do it and this town was built for it. so the day ravels, spending it there amongst the kind of shopping throng that surprisingly feels good cause of its old style christmas in high gear, old timey decorations and lights a strewn, cold enough to have to bundle up, complete with a castle looming over it all on the cliffs directly above.

i manage to finally find the long sought after correctly sized and styled jeans for the missus; levi’s, but they have longer lengths over here, women are longer over here i reckon, and then a few things too for the band. then back to the club for sound check. and all that went tour end right too.

after the check, its off to eat. a good find and a good omen of a restaurant. the waitress and the bartender seem more friendly then usual. they are end of tour friendly. i fall for them both while i am left there alone and the rest of the band scurry back to commence with the evening’s song. the waitress is half thai half german and the bartender dude is full on cuban. a fine combination and a warm feeling in there. hard to leave.

so then the show. i head back through the dark cold with all my buttons on my coat now popped off in vintage fashion. soon as i hit the stage i am reminded how strange the past shows have been here for us. and sure enough, right out of the gate, the weirdest set of the tour unfolds. really f@ckin weird. from the very first strum to the very last drum. weird. bizarre. and not at all satisfyingly so. the crowd probably is ok with it, but to me they look like we have pounded them to a pulp with weirdness.

it’s a good show to get over with. a night off would have been a better idea, and maybe we need it. then for the umpteenth time i get lost in the bowels of the club. it always happens here. very very weird. i thought i followed everybody out, but no, went some other way down some other hall and doors lock behind and i am stuck somehow somewhere. i end up outside the club wearing a sweaty t-shirt and freezing. so i just get back on the mothership.

after shower and cleaning up, i head back through the dark streets to have a last beer at that restaurant. its about 1:00 in the morning and it should be closing then, but the whole band will follow me there soon and we will have an end of tour party the night before this part of the tour actually ends. it will be the last night for the girls to be with us and also tour manager steve left, who refuses to fly. lonna will head back to arizona and continue and sarah to australia.

i arrive and the place should have been closing, but they let me in and it feels good and warm. we have hours till bus call. there is a woman also sitting at the bar and eventually she reaches over into my solitude and startles me with: “ i would lick the bottom of your shoes”. i slowly turn toward her and then i see that familiar smile that stains our audiences faces. ok then. so she was there and she loved the bewildering set and says has been there for the past 20 years too.

she reveals that the venue we played at used to be an older building filled with all kinds of artists that the city had to kick out and build this puzzle of a venue that only ever offers up the weirdest gigs we do. it’s a sensitivity thing, and this place seems mucked with a bad vibe from kicking out all those artists who were us before we wer whoever we are. we pick up on it like a curse. how can we feel good in a place like that and play the magic stuff. impossible. even the grand piano was difficult to adore.

then the band shows up and finally i take part in some serious drinking. the cuban bartender has fun talking spanish with sound man miguel. the band are in high form and sarah has a fine buzz on too. it’s a very good end of tour cluster. the waitress treats us like old friends so i fall in love with her too. why not. it will all be vaporized in a few moments when the bus rolls us away.

• - – — — – -

so we do, some of us. and the walk is filled with a christmas spark. we stop and drink the glue wine at the christmas market on the way into the center of the city.

this city was absolutely flattened in horrific proportions as an example of the punishment for all thing nazi, by the end of world war 2. then afterwards, designated as east germany under soviet rule, the ruins remained devastatingly ruined. when the wall came down in the late 80s, some folks had the notion of rebuilding its original splendor. now if you go there it is impossible to imagine these magnificent structures had been rebuilt. it is mind boggling beautiful. it sparkles with the black sand stone and fresh gold leaf in the freezing sun. we opt for a tourist horse wagon ride to take it all in. it was the captain’s idea, and we are by his side all the way. then we lunch in an old dungeon. not bad. but the torture rack remade as a dining room table is to be avoided.

the long walk back to the bus and then the thick realty of my dad dying exactly one year ago to the day settles in and the rest of the day is saturated with his memory and our mortality.

before the set i wander off alone. settle in a quiet coffee shop, presumably while the opening set had started, and delve into coffee and a sip of single malt. oban for the occasion. think about the old man and where his dad came from, just down the road around Vienna, and how he never got to know him. i think about my sick sister now too. i think about all the people that have gone on, and all the people that have been born into it too.

when the scotch is sipped, i head back to the venue. it’s a bit of a saunter and a bit of a linger the way i head back. climb into the empty bus and think about the appropriate thing to wear for such an occasion. it’s a dark suit tonight. but not quite the black it was in berlin. that seemed more elegant. this was more somber and in remembrance. no one else knew of course. when i got to the venue it was over stuffed. dresden has always been good to us. it’s a very soulful town.

the way i found my way to the stage was singular. the band was no where in sight. i just hesitated for a moment in thought and then walked on alone in the darkness. i played the piano. made up a new song there on the spot. something about “ the notebook of no return”. the crowd didn’t seem to mind or know it was freshly birthed. i picked up the guitar then. i think i might have played “hatch” in my solitary comemmerence. the band seemed to manifest out of the shadows and soak into the song seamlessly. by now i was thick with the thought of those that have past. chris whitely used to live here, and his widow still does. she came to tucson to deliver some of his ashes as per his request. and chris had met rainer too. and he had jammed on a song for rainer with warren zevon way back when and they are all gone and all in this song now. when it ended, the normal set began to take form.

the evening was somber but the crowd was tickled. they can find solace in somber after what they have been put through through the ages. and we very much enjoyed each other’s company. there was an asian woman very far away that was settled in the next room by the bar. but for some reason the light hit her face jst right and so she was my friend for the set. her image and her smile and her acknowledgement of any of my dialogue. i would talk a bit, and then look her way and she would have a sweet reaction on her face. it was dreamlike and she was the evening muse that amused. the end.

when the evening was put to an end, my old leipsig friend and i wandered off back to that coffee place and had me a couple more scotchs. we talked of dead loved ones, or at least she let me blabber on. we talked of our history and the calexico weirdness since she was very well acquainted with all that. she pointed out that today was joe’s birthday, and that she met up with him on my birthday. some of the stories began to moisten her eyes.

these former east german generations just have a think and rich soulfulness that has a comforting warmth and understanding attached to them.

so. that was that. she headed off to drive home, but she drove off without putting her lights on. hope that wasn’t a problem. and i bought a falafal and went on board the mothership where everyone had readied themselves for the night’s journey. i didn’t beleaguer anyone with the day’s meaning, and instead took part in the discussion of the next part of the tour coming up at the end of next month. its sad and funny to see our tour manager take it so seriously and passionately. he almost begins to argue with every notion plopped on the table. then he relaxes after seemingly becoming puzzled by it himself, and we notice everyone else has bunked themselves. its 3:30 in the morning. this day needs to be done.
the end.

• - – — – — —