Texas, V.8
Because of my damn head injuries and “lifestyle choices”, I don’t know how many times I have been to Texas, but I clearly remember five of them – the first time I rode out there with DBT in the Freedom and met sweet Marianne, which I think was also the first time I saw Slobberbone; the first time I went to ACL (no memory of the second); and the “last” Slobberbone show and both sets of reunion shows. I am pretty sure I’ve been at least two other times, so I’m calling this last visit Jenn Wonders Why She Doesn’t Live In Texas, Version 8.
It was an in and out situation. I didn’t have time to think. I had no money and little preparation, but luckily a friend needed a website and sent me advance payment. I had money enough if I played it safe, knowing I’d come back and be broke-ass for a good while, but I couldn’t say no. I am a rock and roll junkie, and Slobberbone is the best shit out there. If I get a chance for an injection, I’ll just about sell my soul to get at it, like any stupid hump.
Texas has a lot of my love. I know that fucktard ex-president of ours came from there, and I don’t feel partial to the style or culture or landscape, but I swear to god some of the best people (and bands) I know are from Texas. The people in and surrounding Slobberbone, The Drams and Centro-Matic are some of the most genuine, insanely kind and talented people I know. I’d sell the shirt off my back for any one of them. Add the fact that my most beloved and beautiful sister lives there with her husband who I adore and her little dog whom I adore even more… and a rock show is an irresistable draw.
Slobberbone played an amazing three hours or nearbouts, both nights. Friday night was my favorite by far – I am partial to Dan’s and Denton; the band sounds better, the drinks are stronger, and there are always more friends. I knew we were in for the shit when Slobberbone took the stage with “Tilt-A-Whirl”. I was right. They tore through a setlist I couldn’t have written better myself, until of course the inevitable Oasis cover, which I still think sucks ass; though Brent obviously finds it hilarious to play whenever I’m in town. I forgive him of course. Saturday night I ruined by doing too many shots too early – confirming that ’special occasions’ ain’t a good reason to be drinking, because I don’t remember much. I think the band was great, and I got to finally hang out with them a little while afterwards at Jess and Ashley’s, but even that was cut short by my extreme drunkenness. Sigh.
Sadly I didn’t get to see too much of anyone. I didn’t any of Centro other than Danbom, who played most excellently with SB both nights; neither Keith nor Chad showed up, the bastards, and time slipped by before I could chase them down. I was thrilled to see beautiful pregnant Marianne, who looks about 3 months along but is really 8 (!); Justin whom I haven’t seen in ages but who looks just the same as she did ten years ago; and all kinds of old friends and new aquaintances that I didn’t expect to see. I got me some new friends, Jenny from Louisianna and Shannon from Cananda, a couple of awesome bitches who know what rock and roll is all about. Got to hang out with my sweet sister some… And then… Suddenly I was back on the plane, heading home, lucky enough to be seated across from a handsome stranger in a near-empty plane who talked me through takeoff and kept me from tearing my hair out in anguish. Yes, I really hated leaving that much.
Now I am home and sick with a cold, sad that I wasted so much of that wonderful time unable to function, and wishing there was a way to do it all again. I’m homebound for a while, unfortunately – wings have been clipped severely by the little financial manager who’s finally growing in my head. It’s okay. I need to stay and contemplate. Life is getting shorter.
