Well, we made it to Glasgow--a feat that, 24 hours ago, I wouldn't have believed us capable of. But we did it, we managed to find our way to the bus station, onto the bus, off the bus, into a taxi, and into the concert. After the concert, we did it all in reverse. Technically, my foot didn't touch one proper Glasgow street at any point during the excursion, and all I saw of Glasgow was through a cab window; Jenny Lewis might as well have played in Edinburgh. But I'm forgetting to count my blessings: I'm just glad she came to Scotland at all. It was like a little slice of home, much needed and much appreciated. Plus she's just so darn great. It made me quite homesick when it was all over, homesick for aimless driving around in Lisa's big ol' truck, stoned as a whore in Bethlehem, perhaps with my feet hanging out the window. It made me homesick for sunnier weather and rummage sales and kissing and the farm and sitting around watching funny television with funny people and all the times I stayed up to watch the sun rise, before everything stopped being wonderful.
(Photos courtesy of Catherine)
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