January 27th, 2008.
When we are home, we have a tendency not to write much in the tour journal since we’re not on tour. But I always forget that, for our fans and
Dangerous Music for Dangerous Times.
When we are home, we have a tendency not to write much in the tour journal since we’re not on tour. But I always forget that, for our fans and
My birthday yesterday was spent as a hybrid of my life as I knew it and this strange new world I’ve been a part of the past three weeks. I
I’m in the Flying Cup Café in Albuquerque eating the sort of bread that Susan’s bird, Karma, likes. This is the second of my two days off here before moving
I’ve been stopped up for writing, lately. I wrote a song about three months ago, but that’s been it. Not even something to work on since. I can’t, and shouldn’t,
“If you were immortal, I could understand your choices better.” I ran into the man who wrote that line, Brad Yoder, tonight at an open mic in Pittsburgh. I’d heard it
Still in Louisville, where the temperature is pleasant, but the rain will creep back into my world by nightfall. I feel for the people who live a few hours from
SO, there are likely coincidences and there are unlikely coincidences. When a couple walked up to rob and I in a crowded Asheville, NC, coffeehouse to ask directions because they
I’ve spent most of this trip sitting in Victoria Station in Putnam, CT, one of my favorite little towns, watching the same people go in and out that we’ve seen go
Decided to drive all the way home from Atlanta today. We made it to rob’s mom’s house at 2 a.m. on the nose, fairly good time at 11-and-a-half hours. So I’ve
“The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco,” is apparently an accurate, though famously misattributed quote to Mark Twain. Twain supposedly actually said something closer to