Now that I’ve had a moment to catch my breath, the tale of my mini acoustic tour with Laura K. Balke and Matthew Beer & Friends can be told.

This little yarn begins in Brooklyn…

Show #1 [Kill Devil Hill - Brooklyn, NY]

The afternoon of our first show, my lovely tour-mates arrived here from Indiana at my apartment in beautiful Williamsburg. They had driven all night, like the little troopers they are. I already knew Matthew and Laura, but this was my first time meeting Brandon Schaaf. Brandon was the main ‘friend’ in the ensemble of Matthew Beer and Friends on our tour. He turned out be one helluva nice guy. (And I never use the word “helluva” lightly.)

We arranged to play our first show at Kill Devil Hill in Greenpoint, which, for most of the year, is an amazing store filled with splendid curiosities from America’s past. (These treasures are made available for sale so that you may preserve and carry them bravely into America’s future.) This year, Mark and Mary, the proprietors of this fine establishment, decided to try something new and open up the space for events for a few months of the year. They’ve played host to art openings, concerts, fashion store pop-ups, record fairs…the list goes on and on. Please go visit them. You won’t be sorry.

Kill Devil Hill was a fantastic space to play in. Just the right size and feel. We filled the bathtub in the bathroom full of beer (and ice) which many people generously donated money to drink and enjoy with us and to help our little tour get some much-needed funding. A friendly, older gentleman stumbled in off the street to join us, as well. Though, as drunk as he was, he would not lower himself to enjoy The Champagne Of Beers with us and went to a nearby bodega to procure his own brew before rejoining the festivities.

People came from all over. They made the journey by automobile, by NJTransit rail and by treacherous G train service to our little show. My friend, James Diehl, not only came from as far as Jersey, but also from about 12 years out of my past! The lovely Lisa Ortiz made the trek from way the hell up in upper Manhattan where she lives and a bunch of my favorite Williamsburg peoples came out to offer their love, support and heckles. (Thank you, all!)

It was a wonderful evening filled with memorable performances. Some of them from the musicians who played, some from our new neighborhood friend who chose to share his evening, wit and candor with us. At the end of the show he told me my set was Beatle-esque and then stumbled out into the night, like a drunken, urban cowboy. Godspeed, mystery man. Your drunken legend lives on.

After the show, we went to enjoy some Kings Of Karaoke at nearby Papacito’s. DJ Flim Flam and Colin (The King of Karaoke) made us all feel like the special people our moms always told us we were. I even cried. That night we were all the handsomest boy in school.

P.S. For the next month you can download two songs from my set at Kill Devil Hill, as a virtual 7″ for free!

Show #2 [Tramontane Cafe - Utica, NY]

With hearts full of sunshine and stomachs full of unicorn we made our way to Utica, NY where we were scheduled to play at the Tramontane Cafe.

We got a slightly later start than we expected, so we didn’t really have time to eat on the way to Utica. Luckily, the wonderful people at the Tramontane took us lovable little scamps in out of the cold and welcomed us with open arms. They fed us super-delicious food and I had one of their teas, which had just the perfect amount of natural sweetness. (Wish I could remember what kind it was!) If you’re ever in or near Utica, you should stop in. Everyone there was so attentive and friendly that I thought maybe someone called ahead and told them we were Van Halen (NOT Van Hagar), but then I realized they’re just naturally that nice.

So, warmed and fed, we proceeded to play our sets. We determined play order using a convoluted method of choosing random state quarters that Laura had in her pocket. The different states on the back of each coin corresponded to each available slot. It was brilliant. Though, there was still some confusion once the quarters were picked, so it became clear that the system needed refinement.

As far as age goes, the audience in Utica was probably the most demographically mixed crowd we played in front of. It was really nice to see that the community at large there in Utica is actually interested and invested in the arts. Wish more of America was like that.

After our sets we made fast friends with some of the attendees at our merch table and started to hear whispers that the Fagbug was outside and, in fact, the Fagbug Lady was sitting only a few tables away. When people started leaving the Tramontane and coming back in with Fagbug T-shirts on, we had to find out what the story was.

Apparently, this lovely young lady, who had a subtle, tasteful rainbow sticker on the back window of her VW bug, came out one day to find that someone had clumsily spray-painted the word “FAG” and “u r gay” (One of my favorite things to write, incidentally; I usually type this into the “notes” box at the top of Mapquest directions before I print them out) on her beloved little beetle. She drove all over the country with her bug painted like this, made a documentary, then gave it it’s more colorful new paint job. Thus, the Fagbug was born and now flies it’s fag flag high for all to see. Take that, homophobic, jock, douchebags!

Erin, The Fagbug Lady, was super cool and patiently waited as pretty much everyone in attendance posed for pictures with her awesome auto. Thanks, Erin!

At this show we were also joined by a video crew who were to follow us for the rest of the tour, taping the whole thing for a documentary project. I’m not sure we were the best subjects. We didn’t do so well with the whole “just pretend the camera isn’t here” thing.

The upshot of it was that the video crew let us crash on their hotel room floor that night and there was an indoor heated pool on the first floor!

Turner, the head of this crew, thought it would be nice to tape Laura and I heading down to the pool, stripping down to our undies and jumping in. So we obliged. Only, when I disrobed and leapt into the deep end, a horrendously loud alarm started blaring and filling up the huge, reverberant space. Within moments the poor front desk clerk came in and shut the alarm off. Apparently, the pool had closed a half hour or so before. We apologized and told him we’d just head back to our room, but he told us that even though the pool was supposed to be closed, he didn’t mind if we swam. It seems increasingly rare in this world to find people who are cool and understanding when they don’t have to be. Thank you, 3rd shift hotel manager in Utica. You are a true gentleman.

I later realized that, in my excitement, I had forgotten to take my glasses off and they were lying at the bottom of the pool. It would have been nice if I had realized this while I was still swimming, but instead it came to me once I was all toweled off and back upstairs in our room. (Don’t worry: I fished them out with some long pool implement designed to save drowning children or something.)

Show #3 [Ghost Cat Cooperative - Ithaca, NY]

We were all looking forward to Ithaca. Laura and Matthew played a show there the year before and had nothing but great things to say. Having never been there, I was particularly excited to see the famous gorges. Yes, the very gorges referred to in Ithaca’s slogan: “Ithaca is gorges!” Let me just start by saying that I was not disappointed.

On our way to Ithaca, we actually found ourselves slightly ahead of schedule and making really good time on the road. So when we saw a manicule pointing to The Book Barn Of The Finger Lakes, we just had to stop. Inside we met Vladimir Dragan.

Vladimir is like an old knight, faithfully guarding a treasure trove of old books for the worthy. He has an intimate knowledge of where all of his books are. You can’t stump him. He’ll take you to any book you desire. And I found out that he’s an architect, which made me love him even more.

While we were there, Matthew’s preference for bank cards and distaste for cash transactions (and, therefore, carrying cash) caught up to him once again, as the Book Barn accepts only physical bills of legal tender. He had amassed a stack of books, totaling somewhere in the $60 range, if I’m not mistaken. I believe he had bought a few books with whatever cash he had and then found a slew of new books he wanted even more.

As I was perched near the Frank Lloyd Wright books in the architecture section, I heard him ask Mr. Dragan if he could simply trade out some of the books he had just purchased for their equal values in the new stack of books he’d found. Vladimir told him that instead, he could just write a check for the additional amount, but Matthew explained he had none. Then Vladimir said, “Well, how about this: You just take the books and send me cash or a check when you finally get home.”

Vladimir already knew that we were on tour and that Matthew lived in Indiana. He went on to say that he had received cash and checks through similar transactions from as far away as Japan! I would figure that the fact that we said we were musicians would’ve been reason enough to not suggest a transaction of this type!

Hats off to you, Mr. Dragan! I love the way you do business and your love of books and your desire to get them into other people’s hands, even at your own financial risk, is an inspiration! Go visit Vladimir and The Book Barn Of The Finger Lakes if you ever get the chance.

So, purchases made, we bid a fond farewell to Vladimir and the Book Barn and a short time later found ourselves in Ithaca.

We pulled up about a block away from the Ghost Cat and it was just the cutest, little American neighborhood scene I’d, maybe, ever seen. It was really something. It even made me thinking about getting a real job, health insurance, a mortgage. But, luckily, the lapse was momentary.

This Rockwell-esque picture was rounded out by a couple of neighborhood kids who had a little stand set up on the corner, about ten feet from where we parked. When we got out of the car I read the sign which offered Coffee, Hot Chocolate, Tea and baked goods at inexpensive, sub-Starbucks prices. The kids immediately started their hustle, assertively offering us their wares. They were more aggressive than porno theater barkers. It was so cute.

There was a small congregation of people from the neighborhood in front of the coffee stand enjoying warm beverages and pleasant conversation. We walked up and they immediately asked us where we were from, sensing intuitively that this wasn’t our neighborhood. It was a very friendly affair. Laura explained that we were there to play music, on a little tour, etc. An older woman, sipping tea, her little dog at her feet, asked us with great interest where we were playing.

“Right down the street at the Ghost Cat house,” said Laura.

“Where?” the old lady asked.

“You know that old house right down the blo-”

“Oh! Yes, I know that house…” the old lady interrupted, frowned and promptly excused herself and her little dog.

It seemed clear that she wasn’t much of a fan.

So we went down the street to the Ghost Cat and were greeted by the smells of another hearty meal being lovingly made! (Yes!!!)

In the Ghost Cat kitchen I met Maria and Apple who both live at the house. They were such fantastic hosts to us. They introduced themselves to me, told me to make myself comfortable and even offered me a drink, all the while preparing an amazing dinner for everyone to share before the show. I was super tired and passed out sitting up while Laura, Matthew and Brandon were treated to a solo performance of songs by Ryan, another one of our gracious hosts who also lives at Ghost Cat.

People started showing up for dinner and music and I slowly regained consciousness.

After dinner, we were treated to a performance by The Pearly Snaps. They played us dark (yet lively) and intimate songs of times long past. It was really something. But before they were done, Ryan put on his clogging shoes and proceeded to improvise some dancing to an upbeat Pearly Snaps instrumental accompaniment. Or, I guess, he was accompanying them. either way, it made for a splendid performance.

I felt like I might’ve had my best set of the tour this night. Something just clicked. Love that feeling.

In between sets I made friends with a few more Ithacans(?). I made the acquaintance of one Asa Fox, photographer/cinematographer and a lovely young lady by the name of Heather. We talked about our experiences attending various bondage parties and bars and had some good laughs. Asa said he was taking some portraits of Heather the next day and asked if the group of us would be willing to have some shots taken of us before we hit the road. We all joined in on my favorite refrain of “Why the hell not?” and agreed to be photographed, time-allowing.

The next morning Maria (again, being a fantastic host) walked us down the street to see one of Ithaca’s famous gorges. It was breathtaking. The day was pretty warm and the rocks were covered with ice and snow that were slowly melting and breaking apart. I talked to Maria about how amazing it would have been to be an explorer who stumbles upon and ‘discovers’ something like this. She said she often thinks about that too and the awe it would inspire. Fantastic.

We walked around the gorge, stopping at various points to take it all in. Then Heather called and asked if we’d like to go for coffee. The gang was psyched about the idea of getting some caffeine in their veins, so Heather met us at Ghost Cat and walked us up to a nice little coffee shop. I had another cup of amazing tea and we headed back to the now ready and waiting Asa, who’d set up his photoshoot at Ghost Cat while we were gone.

We were all a bit fried and Laura and I were still sporting chlorine-scorched, pool hair and bed head to boot. But we’re not proud people, so we decided to be immortalized on film (or it’s indestructible, eternal, digital twin) just as we were.

That’s just who we are.

Asa began shooting simple head and shoulder shots of all of us and then beckoned Matthew and Heather in front of the camera. This is where the fun began. Matthew was directed to angrily choke Heather. He decided this made him feel uncomfortable and so opted to have Heather choke him instead. Then I was called upon to choke Matthew. Before long, Brandon and Laura were in the shot pulling us apart. Then, the whole bunch of us were posed in a semi-frozen melee, shouting, gritting our teeth, doing some anger and being sexy for the camera.

There goes my run for congress.

Once all of the photo fun was over, we realized we were running late to get on the road to Jamestown. So we began packing our meager belongings and loading them into Brandon’s trusty and reliable Colt Vista. About this time, the video crew showed up. It was then that we realized that they simply hadn’t called or shown up to our show the previous night, though they left Utica the exact same time as we did and had the address and directions to the Ghost Cat. There was a brief explanation involving illness, internal conflict and mental distress that I only heard part of, but they were there now and Turner was dutifully taping our mad dash to load up the car and get the hell on our tardy way to Jamestown.

We had gotten the last of our stuff into the Colt Vista and carefully closed the hatch, when a flatbed truck pulled up in the street and shut it’s engine off, perpendicular to our car (which was now in a driveway next to the Ghost Cat), blocking us in. It looked like a serious work truck, so we began to wonder how easy it was going to be to get it to move out of our way in a timely fashion so we could be on our way. By this time, our young friends from the Coffee/Cocoa stand have noticed the bunch of us milling about on the sidewalk, moving things, talking, laughing and have come down to enjoy the fun.

Then, out of the cab of the truck pops Maria and Apple! Maria comes over and asks the assembled crowd if “anyone has any ethical objections to handling roadkill.” I’m still uncertain as to what ethical objections even a vegan would have to this proposition, given the situation, but I still think it was very considerate way for her to ask. While i had no ethical objections to speak of, I decided to play it safe and decline my services, keeping in mind I hd to share a intimate car ride with others for the next few hours and the idea of stinking of carrion did not appeal.

A couple of other people looked around, shrugged and walked to the end of the truck with Maria and Apple. They picked up something heavy, wrapped in a bright blue tarp off the back of the truck. They brought it to the grassy place between the curb and the sidewalk and plopped it down at our feet. The sides of the tarp fell open and inside was a fairly freshly killed deer. Though, its legs appeared to be getting a bit stiff.

The coffee stand kids’ eyes widened and their mouths dropped open. Even Turner, who, while videotaping, seemed to be in his own world, was suddenly pulled into ours. I saw him drop his camera down briefly to get a look at this sight with his own eyes and exhibit the same expression as the young kids. The whole thing was quite precious.

“Whoah!” exclaimed one of the kids, “what are you going to do with that!?”

Maria very matter-of-factly explained to them that they planned to skin and eat the deer.

“Whoah!” came the reply.

And, with that, we said our goodbyes and were off to Jamestown.