Kevin Bronson on September 21st, 2009

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[Here’s Chapter 4 of the journal Jonneine Zapata is sharing while on tour with Soulsavers:]

Sept. 16

After a $1.99 scrambled egg taco breakfast, and a $30 oil change (not a bad deal for a 15-passenger van), we say sayonara to Austin and head to the House of Blues Dallas). Load in, grab some catered dinner at the club (finally, a green vegetable – thank you, St. Francis), a little grassy knoll excursion, then hurry up and wait … ”  Let’s speak plainly, y’all: We’re tired of driving our asses around, loading and unloading our gear, lugging sleeping bags, blankets, pillows and blow-up beds, selling our own merch, advancing our own shows and balancing the beer budget. But, since mommy stopped wiping behind us many years ago, we set up prompt like and here’s how it all pays off – a clan of young’uns take front and center stage and accompany us during “Good Looking” (and “Worry,” of all songs!?) and our 4,000 miles or so of trekking troubles to date – well, t’ain’t no thing now!”  Oh yeah, Angie’s first gig – she kills it (‘atta girl!).

Sept. 18

We’ve got this little game going called lets dream up band names that best suit the state we’re in. In Texas, the winning band name was “Bit Turtis.” Now that we’re in Louisiana, it’s only appropriate to alter the name to “Butte Tortoise.” Maybe you find it funny, maybe you don’t. We’ve already blasted through the games in back of the Atlas Map, so we’re entertaining ourselves accordingly. … But now it’s 8 a.m. (yes, we drove straight after the Dallas gig to New Orleans), and it’s just not car game hour. We’re in NOLA and you can not believe how hooked up we are for the next 2 days! A friend of the band has an “extra” two-bedroom house outside the French Quarter , and it’s ours. Good grief, a washer and dryer – dibs! Three bikes and an entire box of Emergen-C. …

By the way, everybody in NOLA is “baby.””  Excuse me – do you have “rice milk”?”  Oh no, baby, we don’t have nothing like that here. Ma’m, where’s the heavy cream and sugar? Right over there, baby, past the counter on the right. Traveling like this has been a one-of-a-kind experience, and everyone we’ve met has been nothing short of extraordinary in character alone (and sure, there have been a few odd folk to round things out). When the bartenders and house crew buy your CDs (like they did here at One Eyed Jack’s) and tell you they’ll send their friends to your next show in D.C. or NYC, ya think, “Boy I’m glad I don’t have to fight in no stinking war in Iraq!””  If our prayers at Lulu’s voodoo shrine come through, the war will be over before noon …