B C N C: A MAP OF BLACK CONGO NC

Bert’s Market — Folly Beach, SC

Eric Gonzales was in my graduating class at Madison-Grant High School in Fairmount, Indiana. We were the two Erics, so he went by Gonzo and I was generally known by an intentional mispronunciation of my last name, said like Deans. While living in Charlotte, I found out Gonzo had moved to the beach just outside Charleston. I visited him in Folly Beach, SC on a couple lost weekends, gobbling some mushrooms and swimming far out under the moonlight, playing each other new tunes on his porch. But we lost touch. I heard he built up some resentment for me for whatever reason, maybe thought I was a sellout with a 9-to-5 job, not sure. I returned to Folly Beach whilst on tour with BCNC and took note of this sign on the glass door of Bert’s Market promoting Eric’s regular solo show and recently released album, Gold Clouds Blue Skies.

In fear our LPs would melt in the car, I took the box of vinyl into Bert’s and asked the woman behind the counter if we could store them there while we took a dip. She obliged. “You know this guy on the door, Eric Gonzales?” I asked. “I went to high school with him. One of my good friends.” 

“Yes. He’s in here quite often. Twice a day,” she said. “He has long hair, down to his butt.”

“If you see him, tell him Eric from Charlotte is right out there on the beach with a Bud Light Lime tallboy for him,” I told her. Eric never showed.

Eric, wherever you are, our paths are somehow parallel but also, somehow, not. 

Broad Street — Augusta, Ga.

Lost souls come in many forms. Some human, some as spirit guides encased in bronze replicas (actual size). Whereas we lost souls have most always referred to ourselves as a “rare breed,” this tour has heretofore proven the contrary.

Postscript: I called this fella James Bronze.

Broad Street — Augusta, Ga.

We were certain that Lost Soul #4 should have a name as dignified and classy as his threads. However, Eric and I developed a 2 day hangover-sized case of writer’s block once we realized that his Gatorade bottle was full of Old Crow. Also, at one point, we walked by a bench with a giant splat of brownish/electric yellow “vagrant paste”. Cheers, BCNC.

El Cheapo, Old Indian Trail Rd. — Monetta, SC

Caleb, along with his young lady friend behind the counter “love ta party” and gossip about the people of Monetta. While were purchasing gas, he expressed his desire to escape Monetta, and live in a big city where graffiti would not merely be confined to one’s wardrobe.

Eddie from Yardwork at The Yauhaus — Charlotte, NC

A punk and his Civic. The beer commercial key toss and catch.

Hey Hey Tavern — German Village, Columbus, OH.

Gary, drunk, falls into brass under-railing, and a tooth comes out of his mouth. He bled for a little while, and the tooth was found.

The staff asked “would you like us to wrap this (the tooth) up?”

“Yeth. Yeth, I would.” he mumbled, nearly inaudibly.