An ode to Indianapolis
The sun is out and it's a glorious day with trinkets and whatnot rolling about the van. People are milling around and doing errands. Everyone has somewhere to go and we're no exception. We are rolling toward Indianapolis like zombies on a mission to infect the brickyard denizens with our disease filled tunes. I want to bite the arms, legs and faces of audience participants. I want to sing with all the eyeball popping glory I can muster. My vocal chords are twitching in anticipation not unlike the anticipation Carly Simon felt for James Taylor as she waited for his late ass to arrive for a date. In fact, she wrote a Song about it called--- tada--- Anticipation. (that's the story I heard) I'm excited like a unicorn about to greet 12 pack carrying party revelers while hanging from a ceiling in a freshman dormitory. I have a plethora of songs tucked inside my belt and its list grows longer with each passing mile. My eyes are snowflakes and they're fluttering and melting in my skull as radio towers greet this spring day with thanks. Thanks that the frost is finally melting. Indianapolis is a sort of homecoming for wayward Rugburns fans who have traversed this country in search of mommy deers and baby deers and tree huggers and hitchhikers. Tonight our lives intersect at the corner of hoarse and tale. It's a beautiful intersection that's chain free and natural as the ass of a newborn. Ohhh Indy. Ohhhh Indy. We have a date with goat cheese crumbled destiny with honey roasted pecans and arugula scented hippie candles. Break out the bongos Baba Louie because we have work to do. Onward and upward------- Serve me my custard------- God speed, Steverino Locals Only Tonight 8pm!