Dust Sand Denny

*Please excuse the lack of tender details. Tour ended for Cruelster over a week ago. I just didn't want this blog to be left hanging.*

After our movie day, during which some of us opted to stay outside due to fear of legal consequences, we played a dim show in a dim, sludgy nameless place. It is not actually nameless, it was just very long ago so I cannot remember its name. It is also not dim or sludgy, it just appears murky in my memory because I can't remember what it looked like. There were people there, that is certain. It is also certain that we were homeless that night, and all but jaded where sleeping in the van or driving over night is concerned. I remember the band Callaghan. There was also a band that played before them, a young, middle school-aged band. I recall their exact words:

Guitarist: This song goes out to my girlfriend. Today is our 3-year anniversary.

(This is a nice thing to do. It is also scary if you are in middle school and/or if your friends are judging you. His girlfriend was likely touched, unless she was emotionless, which she may very well be.)

Bassist: That was gay.

(This was not okay with me. I stopped watching their band at this point. However, this time, it wasn't because he used the word "gay" in a derogatory manner - it was because their music was loud and detrimental to my ears. I decided not to confront this young fellow about his language because he was too young and would have likely smeared my name on FourSquare or Kik, or perhaps another tween-riddled social networking site.)

Anyway, Cruelster played, but I can't remember the quality of the performance. I do remember tensions being high between the all of us, so the theatrics were likely placed on Yes-Yes' imposing shoulders. Ages played well, also.

We decided to drive all night once more, and I was able to sleep in the sliver next to the sliding door, the "Well," and I slept thoroughly. We stopped at Denny's and played "Assholes to Assholes," which is like "Apples to Apples" only we make our own cards and it only makes sense to us. There were legions of Lutheran teens wearing solid-color camp shirts at Denny's, and our game disrupted them, for they disrupted us. One of the L-teens spilled water on herself and her face turned beet red. This ended up as a card in the game. Afterwards, we continued to drive to Denison, Texas, where Brownrabbit and Rhubarb awaited us in a fancy LaQuinta motel room. We slept until noon, swam in a blue pool for hours, went to a mediocre pizza restaurant, then attended our own show in the basement of the Rialto Movie theater. There was also some drama surrounding an oil change and whether or not we should get synthetic oil. Tears were shed, people died. Yes-Yes watched with blank eyes.

The Rialto was entertaining. We performed skits on the large stage to a crowd of each other. Standard show-goers walked by, and, noting our theatrics, were likely doubly shocked by our performance, which was likely our most daring yet. Yes-Yes and I switched clothing. It was preordained, but Yes-Yes still seemed very uncomfortable with the idea. He has not been the same since. To be continued. The time is too late for wakefulness.