When this band used to tour a little more early in its inception, there was a lot more uncertainty, but the funny thing was back then it wasn't about the band itself at all. In some capacity all of us were in a major state of flux, somewhere between serious relationships, living situations, stages of our lives. And even though you'd never wish it back on yourself, there's a certain require to live brought out of you when you're not sure where, what and who you're coming home to. I think misery and fear drove us to holding the nights to a high set of demands, their own responsibility. We would joke that Spraynard was going to keep us well-behaved, but in reality I think it's that now there's a lot of stability between the four of us, and really I should say the five of us. Now there's less anxiety when the phone rings, and sleep lost over what's next. Now there's a lot less “Jarad woke up in front of an apartment building and doesn't know how to get back here,” “Quick, come pick me up, I've made a terrible mistake,” and especially my personal favorite, “Natoli's going to fucking kill us.” Granted, the mornings are much easier, but part of me misses the old uncertainty. I think it's where we thrive. And we're going to have to make another record one of these days.

The show begins at 1 PM and takes place right outside the door of the room I pass out in. Good friends in The Headies and Mixtapes turn up for this one, and it's a lot of fun having everyone around and hanging this early in the day. Rachel Taft, a Baltimore hero (to me), is the mind behind Feed The Scene, a small organization she began to make sure out of town bands had an okay meal, and she valiantly fed all the bands at both the show the night before, and this one. After our set, I stumble out to her station at the grill in time for her to hand me a steaming steak hunk on a bum. It frightens and almost disgusts me how much my body is absolutely singing at its first real taste of delicious red meat since we left on this jaunt.

We don't get to stick around, because there's another show that night at The Wasted Dream house in DC. This would be Timeshares' first show in DC, and the entire evening is pleasant. Despite what I said earlier, pulling the double header was long and tiring, and after the show getting a meal at the Black Cat and then getting put up for the night by David from Max Levine Ensemble is exactly what we need. I get to spend a couple hours sitting down with various Spraynards, Eric and David, shooting the shit about records and bands. The show itself that night is a best-case scenario for a first show in DC. There are baked goods, and a wonderful basement, where everyone packs in on each other and the band can even have a tough time fitting. We get to share the bill with, among others, a sweet trio named The Harrison Four who makes me giddy with a perfectly scripted segue into a cover of “Gonna Find You” by Op Ivy. We meet and get to hang with their bass player Tom, and I have no idea at this point about the moonshine he'll make me drink in Richmond, VA the coming weekend. That's at Stay Sweet, and we have to wake up and drive there first. It's there where my opportunity to get all of this pent-up stupid out of my system. I think we're all very happy to not have to go anywhere near the stage on Friday night. The past couple days are long, and now it is I who feels he is in the Ass-Compactor.