Had a really fun gig tonight at this thing called "Smyrna at Night," which is where the cute town of Smyrna, DE shuts down a few of their "Main Street USA"-type streets and fills them will food trucks, vendors, 25 bands... and all of the local businesses stay open late and people just walk around and have a spiffy time.
It was hot and humid (they were calling for thunderstorms that never came) and thankfully we had an indoor venue (this cute place called The Drunk'n Baker, that makes booze-filled cupcakes (and regular ones, too), coffee, teas, etc) that blessedly had air conditioning. The AC couldn't really keep up with all of the people packed in there, but it was definitely better than being outside.
I felt bad... the guy who played before us is a hauntingly beautiful singer/songwriter who tours the world ("I wrote this song in the Southern part of Thailand...") but people just talked/yelled over him and I felt like he maybe had three people listening attentively, two of which were me and Matt.
The event people provided a sound system, but it was just a speaker with two inputs and no volume controls, so Matt and I had to share a mic (not easy when he also plays guitar), and we had to way to turn the vocals up, so I reeeeeaaallllly had to push. I always over-enunciate anyway because I wanna make sure people can understand our lyrics, but having to REALLY extra over-enunciate plus sing as loudly but still as musically as possible for a 70-minute set was taxing... but still fun.
It was very cool that a bunch of people came out specifically to see us, and other folks who had no idea what to expect when we started playing wound up sticking around. I love when we first start a show and maybe 1/5th of the audience knows to yell "HOT BREAKFAST!" and everyone else is looking around like "What the hell just happened?" And soon we let the newbies in on the deal and then the whole place is going nuts. I still can't believe how that yelling-Hot-Breakfast thing has taken off, and I sincerely, genuinely, honestly have no earthly idea how it happened... it definitely wasn't our idea, it just kinda happened, and I feel like it happened at our very first show at the Tin Angel maybe. Either way, I am so grateful; I cannot express how much fun it is while we're on stage in the heat of battle having people cheering us on in a dork-rock salute. (I acknowledge that outside a concert situation, it is annoying as hell for everyone else, so we are hyper-vigilant about working to limiting its use to gigs. We don't want people (especially other artists) hating us, and we DEFINITELY do not ever wanna take the spotlight away from someone else. Dick move.) Though it is amusing to be pumping gas and hearing someone yell "HOT BREAKFAAAAST!" while they drive by the gas station. Those interactions are surreal and funny. :-) I am still convinced if I ever cut or dyed my hair a different color nobody would recognize us.
(Wow... it is pouring really hard out of nowhere. Guess we're not mowing the lawn today before our next gig. We've got our Billy Joel tribute show tonight (Saturday) at World Cafe Live in Philly.)
In other news, I find that on days of gigs, especially when I have to carry our 50-pound backpack full of gear/merch/etc. to/from the venue from our car (assuming it's a slight hike, which today was), my restless legs are merciless later that night. (Don't worry, Matt is carrying a guitar and a pedalboard and other heavy stuff. I'd much rather have the backpack.)
I went to bed around 12:30AM tonight (wow, so early for us!), but I woke up around 4-ish with MERCILESS restless legs. (well, leg... singular. My left leg is being an asshole.) So yeah, I started writing this entry at 5:32am and I've been up for the last 90 minutes gnashing my damn teeth over this fucking RLS. I even took my RLS meds (Clonidine (not Klonopin)) which has taken it from an 11 to an 8... so then I took a OTC sleepy-thing (doxylamine, which doesn't make my RLS worse like Satan's Remedy known as benedryl/diphenhydramine does-- OH JESUS), and no dice. So lucky you... you get a whiny shitpost from me.
The only thing bringing me a shred of relief is taking really long thick socks (think baseball/soccer socks) and tying them tightly around my thigh like a garter or a tourniquet. Having the constant pressure on my screaming/itching/twitching quad muscle is vaguely helping, and since the socks are a little stretchy it's not cutting off my circulation. I can still feel my leg screaming, but the sock pressure is a distraction, at least.
But I swear, I wanna cut my damn leg off.
RLS is often the first sign that my anemia is in overdrive and it's time for an iron infusion, so I should probably schedule my labwork for this week. My last infusion was November 8th, so it's definitely possible... especially since I went through all of 2016 with just one period for the whole year (it was magnificent), but this year The Ladytimes are back in full force... so I'm back to losing a ton of blood each month-ish again. (Why body, WHY MUST YOU TEASE ME SO??!)
Anyway, it's now 6:40am (which means Jenn Abrevaya has already been up for an hour -- hah), so it's now been 2.5 hours that my leg is making me nuts. It's maybe down to a 6.5 now, so I'm gonna put this down and see if I can power through it. Come on, sleep. I need to be on tonight! (It's so weird when your body is your instrument... self-care is critical.)
OK-- I hope everyone has a spiffy day/weekend!
If any Philadels wanna come to the Billy Joel tribute tonight, hit me up VIA TEXT... I can probably toss you one comp.
(ps: I love the term "shitpost." I also love the term "shitshow," but that's mostly because I can't hear "shitshow" without hearing Lord Buckethead using the word as he describes Brexit. I am obsessed with Lord Buckethead, and am seriously considering a Lord Buckethead tattoo. Yes, really.)
(Scroll to 16:19 for Bucketheady "shitshow" goodness.)