TOUR Day 18 - Pittsburgh and Nothing
I’m in the back of the van again, a little sick to my stomach, feeling totally shocked that there are only four shows left on the tour. It’s been a bit of a blur. There hasn’t been a great deal of stopping to wander around foreign cities this time around. Lots of late nights in the car, wondering what murky-black body of water is just in the distance.
We got kale salads in Akron yesterday at a surprising vegan grocery/ cafe off the highway. Everyone seemed tired; it began to set in that we have been on the road for almost an entire month. I feel totally disconnected from reality. At every restaurant on the tour, I have posted a fake Yelp review. The reviews are all from the perspective of a girl who really wanted to get married, and at first, all her reviews are about how the restaurants relate to her future nuptial plans. Then it becomes apparent that she is falling apart fast — she is alone and her last relationship ended six years ago (it was with an ambiguous asshole named Nick). She begins to get very jealous of all the happily coupled people at the restaurants she visits. I take pictures of couples at the restaurants and post them in my Yelp reviews. I always add something like, “If you’re alone like me, you might want to try the nachos. It’s a good I-hate-myself meal.” Yesterday, I got so wrapped up in my fake-Yelp-reviewer persona, it felt more real to me than the person I actually was.
That’s mostly what I notice: I am losing myself a little bit. Not feeling grounded on this earth. And I think I guess I believe that just comes with the territory. Sometimes you’re not as inside your skin as other times.
Yesterday I walked along the waterfront in Pittsburgh and realized that it had been a long time since I had walked. We have been watching landscapes unfold in front of us like an endless pile of semi-generic Christmas cards in a seasonal wicker basket from the van windows. At some point, I stopped being able to differentiate between the panoramas. Walking is a whole different game. Walking is a hand-written letter about something completely unrelated to the holidays, with a wax seal.
It was nice to be alone. I watched ducks and listened to sad music. And then — although I wasn’t sure exactly why — I cried for a little while walking along the train tracks.
This whole month has felt transformative, but I feel unable to sort through that right now. Maybe one day in the future, I’ll be lying in the bath, and go, “This is how I changed.” Right now there are four shows left. There are four shows left. There are four shows left.