| the Journal | the Cult of Saint Cecilia
We camped out at Amy's this weekend and did nothing but work on the tour materials. I enjoy Amy's house in the spring. Her artwork is everywhere and there are these linen-like billowy curtains dancing in open windows and intermingling with the tails of the three cats who claim domain here. It's a house that makes you want to make stuff, to be creative and artistic. That's probably why we decided to get out of the house and come here to do our work. We went through 25 states worth of an indexed singer/songwriter database. It took hours. I was amused and surprised at how many male acoustic musicians were described as "the male Ani DiFranco." I told rob that he will always be MY male Ani DiFranco.


Sweet mother of God. That was a whole lot of stuff to go through. Heather likes to make lists. We slowly make our way through Heather's lists, and check things off. We eliminate all responsibilities piece-meal. Oif.

I like to terrorize cats. Oh yes. Sigh. Long day. Tonight I sleep. Been eating artichokes and pine nuts. I believe they shall inspire strange dreams.


Well, it's happening.  It's strange when one realized that you've wrapped all your dreams and ideas and thoughts up in one other person.  I'm not sure whether that equates to Love or if it's just mixed in somehow.  Heather was out of touch a couple of days ago for longer than usual.  Not that I expect her to check in every hour or anything, but she has a routine... and she broke it.  I got all jittery - all the more so because we've finally put the Trip in motion and so much of it depends on her.  The
idea that I'd have to send an email to everyone saying "nevermind... the woman who was going to share this with me was injured in a car crash, and I just can't do this alone" // That maybe is cold, it's not the only thing I think about (her usefulness to me)... but like I said, frightening to have everything wrapped up in her.  Girlfriend, partner, songwriting partner, website makin partner... very scary.


Sept. 1st - 4th
We finally left after pulling a XXX scene - NO not meaning between Heather and me - referring to the whole having a huge pile of stuff on the ground, looking at the car and saying "I want all that... in there." You know, like in the movie.

Again, soo much sigh. Packing up the Kensington house (thank GOD for the help from Heather and my parents) took far longer than it should've, and somehow we ended up with a huge mountain of trash outside the house. I'm not quite sure where it all came from - must've been Jack - methinks.

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