The Hours Between Tulsa Time

Less than two weeks between trips means nothing.

I’ve been home from my wonderful, disappointing, emotional Oklahoma trip for a little over a week. In two days, I’ll head back for the celebration concert marking 60 years since Bob Dylan went electric.

Last week, I didn’t leave my house, mostly because we were experiencing extreme heat warnings with thunderstorms. This week’s not much better, except I’m out of the house for appointments, with Starbucks being the most convenient place to kill time between meetings.

My hair and I will drink the coffee, but we won’t love it.

I’ve spent a lot of this downtime dreaming about where I want to go. What if money were no object and I could just … go? I’d be someplace cooler. New England, on the coast. I’ve never been there. Or the Pacific Northwest coast. Or maybe I’d default to Los Angeles, where I hear it’s been a little gray.

Anywhere but here. Always anywhere but here.

Last night I busted out my new issue of Homecooked, which is a gorgeous new ad-free food magazine. Each issue focuses on a city or region, and the new one is all about Monterey Bay. I’ll be there in a little over a month.

It was delivered in a plain white envelope for good reason. Straight up vacation porn.

In 2019, I chased Jeff Tweedy on tour and have written extensively about the experience, thinking it might be my next manuscript. I’d recently gotten news that my knees were fucked and would never feel better, so I went on a bit of a wild spree until Covid put an end to all the fun. And then I got busy rewriting my first manuscript. Anyway, last week Tweedy announced an extensive tour. I would love to hit a bunch of dates and see what I find to say about them. Especially compared to what I wrote about the tour six years ago. Is there a Tweedy Tour Grant available?

The dream tour:

Iowa City
Urbana, IL
for the first two nights

Burlington, VT
Lebanon, NH
Portland, ME
Norwalk, CT
for October leaf peeping

Boston (although I have a ticket to see my favorite Bostonian, Johnathan Richman, in St. Louis that night)

Philly

Brooklyn (my birthday)

Patchougue, NY

for big city birthday with a bunch of Afghan Whigs friends.

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Chicago

Milwaukee

Minneapolis

for some hopefully cold early November vibes, and also seeing cousins. Real ones. Not just the song.

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Lawrence, KS

for my annual fall weekend getaway with CJ

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Two nights in New Orleans

because.

Hattiesburg, MS

on the way home, and I can hit the blues highway again.

That would keep me occupied from early September through mid-November. But there’s no way I can make it happen on my salary of zero dollars a year and zero benefits. Alas.

But part of the fun of travel is the dreaming and planning. Because a lot of times, I can make at least a part of the dream a reality. I love the idea of a birthday show in Brooklyn. But two nights at that tiny New Orleans venue would be a hoot. Even one of those blocks of shows would be a victory.

I have some connections. Having been a fan for so long, I know some people. I’ve been told to just ask, and tickets are mine. It’s been a long time, and I don’t dare act on the offer for fear of even giving the appearance of taking advantage. But I can tell you about it, put the intention in the air. Who knows? I never do.

Dancing in the rain on two broken knees to Jeff Tweedy’s “Let’s Go Rain,” June 2019, North Adams, Massachusetts.

What would we be without wishful thinking?

…or I’d be extremely grateful if you buy me a coffee if you enjoyed this post.