Salem people hug. It’s tight. The Space is the Place. Oregon is just as cold as all the other shit we went through. Still no heater in the van and it’s apparent that our bones have been cold for weeks. We spent most of the day playing V-drums at a guitar center in Beaverton, examining various broken amps and me and Grug even went to the batting cages! Swinging a freezing cold bat with freezing cold hands at a 80mph baseball is terrifying and painful Oregon activity. Then we ate and got to Salem – The Space. This was the smallest venue we have played but it had definite charm points. It’s the kind of place where the bartender has a big hippie beard and plays old psychedelic records (backwards) while throwing coasters like ninja stars across the room at whoever is loading on stage. It’s also the kinda place where the bar is a handmade wood thing with four stools in front of a refridgerator. Never before have I wondered if I was going to actually fall through the stage. It’s a few feet up off the ground and there’s sheets of wood overlapping everywhere but they’re covered up by old persian rugs to hide the danger. As we played, depending on who stepped where, different pieces of wood would lift up different pieces of the drum kit and it was like rocking out on some magic flying carpet shit. The bands and the people were super nice, $1 PBR tall cans and everybody hugs. Money!

We left after the show about midnight with a three hour drive ahead to grant’s pass / selma. Loaded up with snacks and BS, flipped on the DVD player and charged it. I was out within minutes, only to wake up around 3:30AM and asked to check googlemaps on my phone, and we are this little blue dot surrounded by 40 miles of national parks and forest. Haha! (see pic for our reroute) After backtracking for an hour or so, down a different crazy ass mountain road in the dark, we pulled up to greg’s cousin’s fucking amazing log cabin home, 25mi. deep into the Oregon forest. Jeremy Hurst is a giant slightly different version of Grug. His house / dog / wife / life situation beats just about anybody’s that I know. He hooked us up fat with breakfast and treats, a shower, bad TV and a few hours of Z’s until we had to roll out again this morning at 11. That was my favorite overnight so far, probably everybodys. It feels like we’ve been flash-camping. Selma is a crazy ass town. Tall-fenced, um, gardens of um, plants are nestled in every hill and some even next to the highways. Exploded meth houses, “large exotic cat farms” – yes – lion/tiger/panthers, exotic fungus, uh, research facilities, a whopping 150 foot stretch of town and a river under a “blanket of salmon” make Selma a serious trip.

Right now right now we’re driving through Redwoods on the 199 heading towards the coast. Can’t wait to see the Pacific again. Edwall has stopped death-texting, the sun is raging, we’re back in California, not freezing for once and everthing is instantly beautiful again. Straight up the greatest state. We write songs about this place and play em for people in other towns and they guzzle every word. We are en route to our show in humboldt and I’ve come to love not knowing what the hell is about to happen, ever.

Love to love to love ya

Moonshine XXX