And just like that, it's over...
Rope Cosmetology convened, composed eight songs, rehearsed for three weeks, performed a pair of gigs, attended various social functions, drank to excess on at least two evenings, and dispersed in a flash.
The plan is to mount a second, more extensive European tour in September, but for now, a few days of quiet are needed. I am drained from the effort.
I pity Ryan, who has a colossal slog with Darkest Hour to look forward to, and Feri, who's still on a bus heading for Budapest. Tim should be back in Topanga by now, doubtless hours into a deep and well-deserved slumber. CP and I feel like parents whose kids have trundled off to university. The flat is empty, and we're at that poignant junction between elation and melancholy.
TLASILA seems more of a textual exercise than ever, but of course such observations are natural, given the relative infancy of Ropecosm and the resistance to change exhibited by some within the old unit. Rope Cosmetology is the more difficult of the camel's eyes to thread, as it is necessarily bounded by the requirements of instrumentation. We have less room in which to maneuver. But, those restrictions presage immense freedom, as imagination must be more forcefully engaged.
Fuck it - no going back now.
Hope everyone is well...