A content warning for earnestness :)

A quick flash of red was the first thing I saw this morning. I knew what it was before seeing clearly (I had to put on my glasses): a cardinal. Birds mean everything to me, omens, messages, ancestors, all true but mostly they persist to me as the incarnation of hope. Waking up to a flash of red-turned-cardinal, the bird my family associates with my uncle who died in 2021, the morning of our third regional tour was a blessing. It was a reminder, as my uncle Dimitri would say, everything is going to be okay, keep going, and never give up on the possibility of more.  

I’m disjointed in composing this. Since our last tour, the last diary, as many of you weary readers have known, I’ve more or less fallen into a pit of despair. Between the collapse of the world with each new imperial war abroad, forcible disappearings of immigrants and erasure of trans people at home, and the pit of absence of day-to-day meaning that simultaneously encapsulates the music industry and my day job in the labor movement, the universe has hidden the key of humanity and awe. Actions, personal, political, small and large, frequently have no real impact. AKA God is increasingly difficult to find.   

This is the writing of a woman who used to know purpose and now can’t look away from the horror pinned to her many screens. There is a war in my phone and my loved ones are trying to get me out of an existential funk. For the first time in my life, since I wrote my first song at seven years old, it’s been difficult… impossible to write. My careers in music and in labor are stagnating. I can’t find words, even the rhythm of writing this feels unnatural, and yet my political and aesthetic convictions remain strong. And this is how I saw the cardinal and this is how I’m going on tour.

So, I got out of bed. I went to Greenlight/Yours Truly and bought a new notebook. I downsized and rebuilt my pedalboard. I did laundry and played piano. I listened to Fetch the Bolt Cutters by Fiona Apple, Live Through This by Hole, Empathogen by WILLOW, Post by Bjork, Ace by Madison Cunningham. And then I went to our practice space to load the car (we lost our funding for this tour, which was truly devastating for us: instead of 10 show tour with a 15-seat van, we’ve had to reduce to a 6 show tour with Jonathan’s car and my parent’s car) and begin the 2 hour drive to Bethlehem, PA.

I have never been to Bethlehem, despite growing up in relatively nearby (1 hour drive) Philadelphia. And once we made it out of the pit of hell known as Canal St/getting to the Holland Tunnel, it was one of those beautiful NJ Turnpike drives that I, crazy Northeast diva that I am, adore. We arrived to the venue, a converted Slovakian/VFW social club called Sokol’s, with a fist full of takeout and a setting sun. And as often happens on the road, the magic was there.

Perhaps I’m reading the wrong things online (truism), but for a postindustrial town, Bethlehem, once home to Bethlehem Steel which went bankrupt in 2003, appeared, from an outsider driving through a town and then playing a rock show at a social club, to be thriving (for additional context: there are two universities there, Muhlenberg and Lehigh). The town was so cute.

But what I really wanted to share was about the amazing space created by the club, Sokol’s. There were around 100 people there to attend the show, all of whom seemed to be a part of the scene, AKA they were all seemingly chatting with each other. Downstairs was members-only and there were more people hanging at the bar, playing pool, and bowling. Beer was $3. You could smoke inside. Most importantly to become a member, you have to get two referrals and then just pay $20 once. Then the bowling, pool, darts, everything – it’s all free. And you have a place to hang out with your friends. Again, maybe I’m naïve or have been destroyed by the social norms of NYC/Brooklyn but the idea of an old-school ethnic/veteran social club reinventing itself into a third-space this democratic and chill in 2026 is amazing.

We LOVED it. I’d do anything to have a space like that near my house. But, as Claire said, it could never exist in Brooklyn because Brooklyn would destroy it. It felt grounding to be a part of a space like this, even for a night. It reminded me how powerful community on this ground level, tangible, and durable (AKA anything but online or some stupid shit that is capitalized online, like a pop-up or lookalike contest), could be. I was moved and I remembered the cardinal and I remembered why I love going on the road more than anything. The newness of the social, the community, the sharing in travel – I’ve written about this before, but you’re not just extracting on tour, you’re also giving back with the show you play, it’s a true exchange of experience. And last night, that all came back to me.

Signs we saw driving home on route 309, ranked:

1.        your happy place: plastic surgery & dermatology clinic

2.        sweat shop: guns & gear store

3.        plain & fancy diner

4.        hot tub 50% sale

5.        smoker’s destiny

Some of what we listened to driving to and fro Bethlehem:

1.        Les Fleurs – Minnie Riperton

2.        Nights Over Egypt – The Jones Girls

3.        Gentle Thoughts – Herbie Hancock

4.        What a Fool Believes – the Doobie Brothers

5.        Adventures in Paradise – Minnie Riperton

6.        One Rainy Wish – the Jimi Hendrix Experience

7.        Midnight Rendezvous – Cassiopea

8.        Voices Inside – Donny Hathaway

<3

next show is 3.15 at parkside lounge/wet spot in NYC! doors are at 6, we hit at 8.