Tonight marks my solo debut at Kafein's Monday night open mic, and I want to have a fanbase there to cheer for me even when I screw up. So please do come and listen to many talented artists over some delicious coffee, tea, or whatever floats your boat. That's tonight at Kafein, 8:30, and if you can't make it, then I'll be there again next week, more than likely.

Yesterday, I took the Metra into the city, hopped the Lake Shore Limited (but not before getting half of my dinner stolen), and spent 24 hours on a single train. Don't try this at home, kids. Or anywhere else, for that matter. I had come armed only with my iPod, a deck of cards, a book I've read several times before, and my notebook. I had promised myself that I would start and complete an entire new song, which I accomplished readily, along with a couple pages of prose and a few more song ideas, mainly because I had nothing better to do. Fortunately, I was joined at Toledo (at about 1:30am) by an intelligent, open, and not unaattractive young woman named Shawnecy. She was off to see her fiancé in Framingham, so we had 15 or 16 hours to give our life stories and debate about religion, politics, gay marriage, the death penalty, and other such controversial topics. I finally arrived in Boston, where I was warmly greeted by Steve and Sage and Checkers (especially Checkers) with fresh pizza and a movie (Mystic River, which I hadn't seen. I quite liked it, but had some issues with the ending). I write this now from Steve's iBook while I wait for Dad, Pippa, and Bea to make their way over from Nantucket, so that we can all make the long haul home (after the dogs have a chance to get aquainted, I'm sure).

Just a list of some of the special people I spent the weekend with and the songs that make me think of them (and vice versa):

Heather, recently ordained to the priesthood! Yay Heather!: "Light My Candle", Adam Paschal and Daphne Rubin-Vega.

Jane, Bruce, CJ, and Kyle, the Hoosier branch of my bizarre family: "Soap, Soup and Salvation", "Weapon of Choice", Fatboy Slim; Lone Justice; "Frustrated Unnoticed", Damone; and "Dream Operator", Talking Heads, respectively.

Susie and Luke, My "cool aunt" and her ping-pong fiend husband: "Shame On You", Indigo Girls; and "I Just Wanna Be Your Steve McQueen", Eytan Mirsky.

Mark, whose genetic breeding experiment went sadly awry: "Slither", Velvet Revolver.

Tripp and Trish (Congratulations, you two! ~_^): "Long Black Veil", Tripp Hudgins; and "Edge of 17", Stevie Nicks (Kinda inappropriate, I know, Tripp, but it WAS beautiful).

Micah... I honestly can't find the words: "I am Downright Amazed at What I Can Destroy With Just a Hammer", Atom & His Package.

Tonight I feel royally screwed up. There's an extreme bittersweet blend in my heart and my head, and I can't tell from one moment to the next which feeling is dominant. I spent the evening out in downtown Chicago, with the intention to see Roman Holiday in Grant Park, but weather conditions were not favorable, so instead we got pizza at Due's and saw Garden State, which is easily the best movie I have seen in a very very long time. The bitterness is, I have to say goodbye to a very dear friend. I've known Seth since the first day I moved here, and his outgoing, goofy, lovable personality has been a perpetual magnet.

I'm gonna miss you, dude. Who am I gonna sing La Vie Boheme with now?

You may have thought the worst had come when I reported getting my driver's license. But I have taken another step to make myself a wheeled menace to myself and others on the streets. Yes, I have acquired a skateboard. A good friend of mine wanted to get rid of it, as he's moving, so I took it off his hands, fixed it up a bit, and am now in the process of learning how to make it move without falling off. Whee!

Here's a lttle something I started writing at Frisbee camp, for your edification.

Here I am, sitting on a park bench, every muscle crying in silent protest, watching the sun set over graffiti-covered dormitories. There's a kind of satisfaction, as if the rays beating down hear and recognize my body's tears, and acknowledge my well-earned right to rest, relaxation, and peace. The others-- (Here I left to go play a round of disc golf)

Today's another grey icky day, but without the perkiness I had last time. Looks like a good day to lie back, turn on some Dar WIlliams, and read a book (or three).

Especially after my disappointment that Thunderbirds was being turned into a live-action movie with an altered story, a crappy plot, and bad acting (except for Ben Kingsley, the one person cast appropriately), this comes as a welcome distraction, and one that looks to be good for lots of jabs at the state of the world and some good old-fashioned inappropriate humor.