© Janelle Pietrzaki left for what was supposed to be a 4 day end-of-summer trip, but the trip just kept on tripping, and the impending cold just kept on colding, and suddenly it’s been three weeks and it’s winter, and it’s raining all the time now, and still all i got is this borrowed bag stuffed with summer clothes and a couple days worth of underwear, a swimsuit and a toothbrush, cold cans of lentil soup, almond butter, apples and a teapot. and at the fall of the sun each night i’m in a parking lot somewhere, digging through the trenches of my car, getting dumped on by the cold cold rain, pulling out any extra layer i can find to keep warm. but this is the life, my favorite life. it is a life whose survival depends on bonfires and blowing up chestnuts on an open fire, a life that finds sustain in shitty seven dollar acoustic guitars and in friends you’ve found over the years, your storytellers.

been on the outskirts of DC practicing tour songs with pygmy lush into the wee hours of the morning, in an unheated shack attached to a chicken coop; when the song ends you can hear the chickens scratching from the other side of the wall, and the sound is a lonely sound and it makes me feel colder somehow. and…ghosts. it’s like chicken ghosts of chickens passed. it’s some seriously creepy stuff.

i realize that we are on flyers all over the city of richmond, for a show that we actually cannot play, and never really could, but somewhere along the way the lines of communications went down and anyway, this shit happens. i’ve gotta be at a wedding in concord NC that day, and my bandmates have to work, but here’s how i’m gonna fix it. i’m going to the wedding, gonna stay just long enough to steal one of the inevitable disposable cameras and take some undertheshirt pictures, and then i’m gonna haul ass to richmond, to play some songs with pygmy lush. couple of my songs that they fixed for me, one of their songs that i’m trying to not ruin, and a cover song. it’ll be just like any other des ark show, i.e. under-practiced, sufficiently winged (anyone know the correct past tense for “winging it”?), short and intense.

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