So full of wist.

It’s good to be home momentarily, although I’ve also been jonesing for the road in a strange way. Something about the last tour made me appreciate the people I play music with more than ever. Our shows were messy, vulgar displays of  rock and roll and I don’t think I slept for more than 2 hours a night. The day after we got home I played for 12 hours, finishing and writing new songs. I can’t wait to record them (just a couple weeks!).

Today I went and picked up Richard Hell’s autobiography. I remember when I was 14 or so getting a ride to the record store to pick up a copy of Blank Generation. I was obviously a couple decades late to the party but I felt so very cool having that record. Most of my teen years were spent reading his writing, underlining the best parts about sex, and wishing I were his girlfriend. (Yeh, I was always this cool…)

Obviously (thankfully) that romance never happened but it definitely shaped the artist I am today, I hope for the better. Really enjoying the book so far and occasionally pausing to smoke and gaze out the window wistfully. It’s finally above 45 degrees and not snowing. Good weather for wistful gazing. Even better for wistful wandering. And the best for wistful songwriting.

That’s all for now. I’m really excited about all the good things in the future–and I hope this is not a case of dramatic irony–