Nostalgic red dirt...

Somewhere Down in Texas there is a drunk college kid still trying to remember what happened at Willie's Fourth of July picnic. The source of the contact high is fuzzy, Shiner Bock and Lone Star bottles explain the pounding head, but that doesn't explain half the trip. The last thing they remember was being Southbound 35.

Yesterday brought on a case of the Milk Cow Blues so I headed over to my iTunes for a little blast of red dirt and hopefully an attitude adjustment. Nothing like hearing those sounds that take you back to a smoke filled bar, bumping into drunks while you can barely stand up yourself and standing so close to the speakers your ears ring for days. We all loved a good One Chord Song.

Those were the good old days. The days before having an Oklahoma Breakdown seems inevitable. Hopping on Pat Green's tour bus SEEMED like a good idea at the time, but once on the bus, not so much. We loved the fiddle, saved all week to drink and danced the night away. When Those Boys from Oklahoma would come up we were never lacking a good time.

There were Jello shots, natty light and 30 stones, screaming at the top of your lungs and hoping to god Boland was stoned so the show would be unforgettable. The shows that used to cost six bucks, now cost thirty and Boland doesn't sing high anymore - amazing how good he sounds now. We all had the world by the ass and not a care in the world.

Sometimes I really miss those days, driving around the country side doing some sight seeing with our Bare Feet on the Dash. Those memories will be with me forever and every time I hear Proud Souls I still get goosebumps. Those were the best days, the best friends and coldest beer.

Thanks for all the memories - you guys are still the best.