Out Here on the Edge of the Desert--

     I dunno. Maybe it's like a homing pidgeon. Maybe like a whale. But every time it turns July Texans are driven, or they drive themselves, down into that unholiest of hideouts, home. Where an oppressive heat is only exceeded by an overpowering humidity. Y'gotta feed 'em good to keep 'em there. The most masochistic of us then book a gig, or two, too to add an "on time" schedule to the mix. Oh, that's a good idea, sweating in an aqualung.

     After a day of interstate, we end up at Vince Pawless' kitchen table. When you've driven all day and only gotten to Dallas that's what my mother would call a helluva note. So we laughed about it while barely being able to make out what was being said over the static and scratches to a Brother Dave Gardner album.

     We split for Houston down 45. Stopped outside New Waverly, Texas on the way to offload the dogs in the shade of those woods at my family's homestead.

     Very hip date in Houston at Dan Electro's guitar bar. Like McCabe's in LA, walls of guitars on display. What a great atmosphere. Attended by the best. Charged me up to do my best. But in spite of my best, you know you're in wilting oldtown Houston when your buddy asks you to go outside to burn and you actually think about it twice because it's so miserably warm. And it's eleven o'clock at night. Two accompanists on guitar and bass. Two sets.

     Vince Pawless shows up with an uncle that puts us all up for the night. We sat in "Cooky's kitchen" half the next day drinking coffee, laughing further about it, and rolling our scrambled eggs and grated cheese up in tortillas. Lotta good peppers. Ate and ran to a radio show at KPFT in the typical rain. The three of us drove from there to within a block of where I lived firstly in the Montrose, upstairs at Fairview and Van Buren.

     Earthwire.com Internet radio show. Five computers against a wall with kids in front of them talking to the world, DJ playing my cuts in a control room, electronic genius gnomeing away at the bottom of my stage in front of an audience. Wham, bam, we're live. Refreshments rolled daily. Coolest thing I've seen in any town. Groove to be a part of it.

     Another good play, no wonder.

     Earthwire's DJ has asked me to send a songlist of 15 early influences. I sent him this. There are a billion more.

     Offstage and back into the clouds and rain for a ride further down 45 to Galveston. But øhow can you be stopped on the freeway? There ARE no stop signs on the freeway. The traffic picks up and we arrive...in the rain just as it begins to stop. Even on a sweltering day the water at surfside is warmer than the air.

     We note the huge rutabega in the parking lot we pull up next to. No one seems to notice us, so we forage out in the street on the Strand and find a Greek restaurant. Great white wine. Golden, like honey. Me, Pawless, and Sarah take a gyros for later on Bolivar and put it in the fridge at the OQ.

     After that, Wrecks was too funny, the beer was too cold, the crowd was too cool, it was too good to see a long time friend come out of that monster mobile home, the sound was too good, the air conditioned backroom was too nice, my pal on the other guitar played too well, and I probably had too good a time to worry about it anyway.

     I left Wrecks a note the next day:

zwRecks,

     The backroom is a hit, your talking blues about the blues was the best, and the gig was deluxe fun.

     After breakfast I went looking for a ferry so I wouldn't have to swim off Bolivar island. But before that, Sarah said if you had a better bed than us in the fish house it was time to go shopping for a new one. But before that, Vince Pawless, Sarah and I ate the gyros plates we got at the Greek restaurant you put in the fridge for us. But before that, I turned on all the air conditioners in your beach house. But before that, when I got out of the car in the front yard there were so many mosquitos on my bare legs it felt spooky like I was wearing

a tight pair of jeans.
v2ince

     On the ferry the next morning late, the air was fresh from a rainstorm and the spanish kids threw bread crumbs to the birds out back. Dolphins breached in packs out front of our wake. That, and buying some postcards on the seawall were as close to the Gulf as I got on this go around.

     As we pulled up to my people's place the Jeep broke down right where I parked it. That car has been taking care of me, or I been livin' right.

     AAA and a cell phone works most all the time. The wrecker came from Huntsville a couple of trips, but I made the next gig on time in Arlington, between Dallas and Ft. Worth. Got to play with the man whose voice is as big as Texas, Brian Burns. http://www.brianburnsmusic.com.

     Well attended, well played, well paid, well good. They can have me when they want me, and Brian and I will do it again in Waxahacie in November.

     But from the stage I kept calling my pal, Larry Lucas, Johnny Laxton. Law of averages. I guess everything

can't go right.

Vince

Copyright ©2002 Vince Bell