December 3rd, 2019. Warm suffusion.

I’m in the basement suffused by a warm glow that’s mostly keeping the creeping cold at bay. The last couple of nights, winds howling through Baltimore, whipping street signs back and forth and throwing our trash cans down the alley, have been harbingers of the season to come. The first Christmas lights are up and glowing in a distant reminder of how on TOP of Christmas North Carolina already was a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve gone from using my heating pad for relaxation to using it for… well… heat.

November 26th, 2019 at Busboys and Poets.

Tonight’s my last open mic at Busboys and Poets – and I’ve got Rupert Wates as my feature again. It’s a fantastic night, though in hindsight this must’ve been where I caught this fucking cold.

I’m in the basement suffused by the warm glow of how wonderful it is that music really DOES bring me and my friends together. Knitting us around this THING that we all create. I’ve just finished mixing a friend’s album and I’m currently working on last night’s Teavolve data as I mix “Going to California” from the ilyAYREheart show a couple of weeks ago. Listening to us have such a good time playing together, remembering how awesome the practices were, looking forward to setting up more shows in the future…

Last night at Teavolve had a similar feel of community. I wish I’d been a better part of it, but as I’ve been recovering from this cold my head is just stuffy and difficult. It’s hard to hang out with friends and be joyous when one feels like one’s head is going to explode. But seeing the people clustered around our little candle light of music in the midst of a freezing night in Charm City was a beautiful thing.

The beest doesn’t take to the furniture often, but watching cat videos apparently urged him to misdeeds.

I’m still struggling with this cold, well past the ILLNESS itself (though Kristen’s still struggling), but just slowly evacuating all the GUNK from my body and it’s slowing me down, but gosh I Love the things that me and my friends all create. Not the gunk. Maybe the funk. All that music. Maybe it’s good for something afterall.