Geez, okay. We stayed with this kindhearted dude, Mr. Ryan Chavez, in Houston, and he was a gentleman and a Beatles scholar. We listened to the four-track breakdown of several Sgt. Pepper songs, and let me tell you, the ghost vocal tracks on “A Day in the Life” were lovely and shocking. Not even talking about the bassline from “With A Little Help From My Friends.” Good god. Despite being the only Beatles song that sounds better covered (see Joe Cocker’s glorious Wonder Years theme, something the movie Across the Universe happened to get right), it still sports the most wicked non-repeating bassline ever. We went with Emily Driskoll to see our buddies The Whigs play down the street, and that rocked like it always does. Great live band, The Whigs, and the utmost gentlemen.

Nothing in God’s Universe is more depressing than Vegas in the daytime. We crossed the Mojave desert and I saw the huge Louie Anderson and Carrot Top billboards and I quaked and wondered things. What else was there to do but bust out Woven Hand on the iPod and try to take it head-on, like I was cavalry-charging Vegas, the Great Beast. I’ll lose to you, probably, but only a little.

I am looking down at a passing train on a Sunday morning from a bridge in Nashville.

Trains were once the new imagery of a powerful, new world. A force of progress cutting across countrysides bringing new cultures together and opening a route of escape for those unsatisfied with their lives. Song imagery using trains was representative of that force. Now trains have taken a new roll in our collective consciousness. Somehow they still evoke escape or power but, as the information age whirs up around them, they more often represent imminence or memory and the fading of all temporal things. The sound of change on the backside of the moment. Distance. From the past and from our dreams.

So, San Francisco rules, right? Certainly, but I’m getting ahead of myself. When we landed blissful and exhausted in San Diego, our first move was to hit up the world-famous San Diego Zoo. Incredible. We saw a polar bear try his damndest to retrieve a red ball lodged in an underwater crevice in his tank. I watched him for maybe 15 minutes, his huge paw swiping at the unreachable ball with all the tenacity of a 12-year-old hurling his dad’s tennis racket at the football stuck in the uppermost branch of a front-yard magnolia. The koalas, the baby panda asleep perched high in the tree, his little Ewok legs dangling—it was almost too much. And, oh God, the camels. Let me tell you something about camels: they’re huge. Massive. All regal in their gold fur and boredom. They gave us sideways glances with all the celebrity disdain of the privileged. They might as well have been ashing their cigarettes in our faces. Also, a llama sneezed on Jesse, which was hilarious. And we saw two endangered bears boofing. The female didn’t seem too into it, but what can you do when you’re the last of your species? It’s called “captive breeding,” and God bless it.

The next day was my showcase with Money Mark, Tommy Guererro and Curmimin at Buffalo Billards. I was very excited and relaxed and had nothing to after soundcheck, so we walked and heard a thousand bands lean out of bar windows, scratching for an ear to listen. There are so many dope bands and sounds to choose from, that the audience gets paralyzed and runs into Coyote Ugly for peace and shelter. We were one of them. I forgot where we were holed up, but it was quiet, fun and warm. We were waiting till it was our time to rock, walked on the stage and fell in. We became one of the thousand bands leaning out to be heard. But inside, I didn’t mind if it was just us playing alone. Peter Daily banging the drums without typical emotion and Davey Rockit walking and talking to himself behind turntables and Mpcs. It felt like we were practicing. I love to look at my bros on stage with me and tell jokes with our eyes...all in slow motion, of course. But lo and behold, when I turn around the crowd doubled, then tripled, and it really seemed that people liked to dance to the tunes we played. I couldn’t stop smiling and thanking God for this opportunity. We only played a sweet 25 minutes, but we made our point and the rest of the night hung low on the back patio and laughed and listened to the music. I really loved that place. Sarah kicked it with us the whole night. She’s a good friend and the best publicist I know. The show was over, work was done and we spent the rest of the night chasing bands, shadows and cops. The weekend had officially started, and I felt like Sean Connery in Cabo.

We left New Orleans in a stupor. Defeated and used and the wind felt good on our faces. Seven hours until Austin and the start of a carnival called SXSW. I drove the whole way. Peter and Davey slept, laughed and talked. We had no iPod connection, so all we could listen to was M.I.A, Lenny Kravitz (sorry about that) and a new “I can’t feel my face” mix CD on Dim Mak. We made it though, finally. First, we all met our Austin host Katie, hung for awhile, then met up with Ms. Sarah Landy at the house we were staying at. No shows yet, no parties yet...wanted to relax the first day and taste Austin’s air alone and without the crunch of ambitious bands that all look and sound cooler than me. I’d save that for tomorrow. The band and I, Sarah, a weird roomate dude who mostly stared at us and apologized for nothing in particular, talked for hours and had high hopes for the week’s festivities. We made our way to our sacks and slept like bears. We had no idea that our lives were about to change… Well, not really, but that’s a great way to end a chapter, right? No?

I met Wesley in Austin last year at SXSW. He filmed us going around town, working and playing. Cool dude. Didn’t know it was going to be him who was throwing our New Orleans show the night before SXSW, but was pleasantly surprised we were in good hands. The city was still rough and the people felt like they’d seen war first hand. But the show came off light and easy. And we had some real good opening acts killing it. Guerrilla Publishing Co. and a real slick group living in Brooklyn played as well. I forgot their name, though. The lead singer had a really pretty grilfriend. And that’s what made them slick if I remember correctly. So it was Mr. Wesley’s (who works for Stactic TV) birthday. We partied with his friends for a long time. But after the show, we ate those banging donuts at Beignets until 4 a.m. and fell deeply in love with New Orleans...again.

We were all so happy when Big Boi’s part of the remix of the “I’m Soooo Hoood” song came on when driving through East Point, Atlanta. We’ve been to Atlanta maybe 10-15 times in our lives and we are still seeking that magic that Outkast found, raised and killed. Haven’t ran into it yet, but the search continues. Atlanta is a thick and ghostly town that will not tell her secrets. It was also the first city where I saw a black family (Dad, Mom, three kids and all) riding bicycles down the street in the sun. You will never see that in L.A. It paralyzed me. I didn’t know what to do. It kinda scared me. Then they passed us and I let out a “What in the world is going on!?!” I loved it! Anyway, the show at the Drunken Unicorn was perfect. Great sound and people and they got to smoke cigarettes inside. Afterwards we visited warm, round and friendly hobbits and talked till 5am. Atlanta, I’m gonna crack you soon. Seven-hour drive to New Orleans and then SXSW!!

The next morning we flew to Orlando, Fla. for Relevant magazine’s five-year anniversary party with Seabird and Baren Von Bear. It was held in their small and warm office off downtown. I missed Orlando. I hadn’t been there in almost a year when we played with Of Montreal. It’s a great city, but the South still reigns and people still say things like “...my black friend Jesse.” The show was fun though, real dope. I hope they do more. Afterwards, our friend Adam from the Relevant crew took us to the Backbooth to listen to music and look at people. It blew our minds...me and my band smiled and laughed at the wonder of Orlando. Very overlooked city. It was the first bar we’ve been to since Memphis where people just came to have fun and dance like big kids, not even to pick up or look a little too cool. The people there hardly tried, had no room too really, but were walking poems. And they didn’t even notice when three lost angels sat in the corner and stared at them for hours. Orlando, I love you. Thanks to Cameron and Maya Strang for bringing us out there and for watching the most powerful one hour episode of The Office with us.

PS - Orlando was the city where we saw Be Kind and Rewind. One of the most touching films out…