More wandering in Louisville, KY… 
Chalk Art is great. Especially when it depicts Godzilla eating Lil Tokyo and then shitting it out in the shadow of the ex-Ear-X-Tacy in Louisville, KY. Hee! Any cafe that has pictures of people hugging octopuses… or perhaps being devoured by them, is a winner in MY book! Well, not QUITE a winner. We can only eat so many things in any given town and this time BBQ was on my list…. not whatever this place served. My God – someone ELSE sells accordions! Well… now when people express dissatisfaction at HMT, I know a place where I can send them! Get yo’ squeezy ass to Louisville!
Weird anxiety dreams. Driving on ice. Bass stolen. Late for a show…. Car broken into… I HATE bad dreams. And swimming towards consciousness I reinforce myself with positive things. I have a great partner, we played a good gig last night, have high hopes towards having a great gig tonight. I wanna do what I wanna do and I wanna get paid. Thank you Tom Waits for giving voice to my optimism.
Pittsburgh has thrown what it can at us. Rainbows and hail and now a steady grey drizzle as we head to U Pitt at Greensburg. The PA Turnpike is worthwhile for a short jaunt like this and the trucks are keeping us company as I sneeze on my computer spring.
Yup, spring has sprung.
I’m working on New England booking, trying to fill in the gaps. I’m mining friends’ calendars wishing I had that little edge of charisma – or talent, or personal connection, whatever it is that I’m missing – that would encourage an artist who is a little higher on the totem pole to reach down and give us a hand. Just to travel with someone else for a couple of months, feeding ourselves into alien earballs that didn’t know we were a great idea until we cropped up with a familiar artist. On the radio Shawn Mullins croons and I think about our connection there. I see Antje Duvekot is playing where I want to play, and Jeffrey Foucault is playing where I want to play and the Low Anthem is selling out shows in my home market while I struggle to get 10 people in seats and fret over 50.
I’m too deep in it, too encouraged by pockets of fans across the country to think I’m not worth that better rung on the ladder. I just… don’t…. know… what to do next! I’ve got hope that joining NACA was the start of a better Life, but we frankly just won’t know for a couple of months yet.
Shh. Back to the beginning of the entry. We’re doing well. I’ve just had some bad dreams
