Wednesday, August 03, 2005


I've been having massive natural disaster dreams again. Everyone loses everything and missing persons rosters and scrounging for M&Ms (which were all teal and charcoal grey) -- the works. As my brother would mis-diagnose, Freudian for sure.

Attempting to cover for my bloggity neglect with set lists is not going to work for too long, methinks. So my fooling around time at work will now be redirected toward recording my more interesting bits of internal monologue.

Meantime, feedback on the musicses is appreciated. Suggestions too. Yesterday's show was solo, sans Sam, and shockingly not a massive screw-up. I panicked (LOVE that K in there - I panicked and picnicked and trafficked, oh my!) a little when the studio monitor stopped playing. Music was going out, but I couldn't hear it. The mini-control freak within freaked the hell out. I also got a call from a woman with a voice not unlike mine -- low -- who wanted some Elvis Costello and told me to quit smoking. She assumed I was 35+, I think. She seemed shocked to hear 20. Not the first time I've been told I have an "old soul," but hopefully the last. I'm not really sure what that means or if its desirable.

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