Just ahead were headlights and the sound of a horn. Not a car horn, but rather, the deep loud swelling sound of a semi horn. I was still moving sideways. I slammed on the gas and got the fuck out of the way of a semi truck carrying a bunch of pigs. Thankfully, the engine hadn't stalled. I made it back through the median and over to the westbound lane.
The car was pretty messed up, it was shaking badly, smelled like fuel and every light in the dashboard relating to maintenance was lit up like a party. I wasn't hurt, but I had to stop in Bismarck for the night and call the insurance company and rent a motel room. None of the airbags deployed which is fortunate.
I had breakfast at a diner in downtown Bismarck while I waited for the car. The french toast was amazing; firm and a little bit crispy on the outside and all soft and creamy in the middle. I was full but thought about ordering more just because it was so good.
Bullets was written on the beach in San Francisco, CA during the
spring tour of 2005 initial recordings done in Scott's living room.
Close The Door was written in Portland, Oregon while Tiffani cleaned house, I sang to her instead of helping.
Blood was written and recorded at a Motel in Bismarck, ND during the fall tour of 2005.
The Glow was written in Portland, Oregon about a friend who stayed up all night long with a drug dealer.
The fucking-amazing Eric Jensen (aka Tractor Operator) took the stage next, with the bar clatter at an all-time, irritating high density. Though Jensen was unable to cut through it at times, I still honestly believe that, with a full band and some time, Jensen could become the next Isaac Brock (and I couldn't say that lightly). It's his "Yeah, everyone's family is fucked up, but listen to this" songs (namely, "The Last Sunday in November") that beg for comparison. But despite the similarities, songs like his don't-give-a-fuck anthem "Two Dead Cats" and heart-wrenching ballads of true, twisted romance like "Close the Door" (to be released on a 7-inch in May) are the songwriter's own. When he commenced the hard strumming during a cover of Neutral Milk Hotel's "King of Carrot Flowers, Pt. 1" last Thursday, you actually couldn't hear the din of Portland's hipsterati anymore, which is amazing in itself.