Jonas Lewis-Anthony

Joseph, The Rockies, and the Desert

I woke up on the top bunk, hungover, smelling to high heaven and in desperate need of a shower. I rolled off the bunk and began digging around to find my tooth brush, which was, of course, nowhere to be found. There were beer cans strewn across the floor of the bus as well as two dirty pans from a chili we’d made the night before. That Walmart parking lot had very quickly become our home for the night. The chili was vile. It was our third day on the road at that point and we had yet to play a single show. Money was tight and so we found a Walmart just south of a bend in the Mississippi river in western Illinois and found the cheapest canned chili and pre-cooked rice that they sold. It was a solid gel with a very striking resemblance to dog food that I had to shake profusely just to get out of the can.