November 19, 2003

FROM Wednesday, November 19.

Well, I've made a little headway. I put a password on this little den of iniquity. So if you're here, you know the password.

(I never did see my neighbor last night, by the way, so I don't know what he brought me from India. My friend Dar, with whom I have frequent Bad Taste contests, suggested he'd brought me back a small servant named Punjab; I thought wine glasses maybe, or some ceremonial shirt. I like my neighbor very much incidentally, and do I have to make disclaimers here for things like the Punjab joke? I want this to be the place where I can take my bra off, as it were, and not worry about people thinking I'm a tactless, bigoted louse. Okay, that was the disclaimer anyway.)

And that brings me to another idea. I mentioned that my trio travels a lot. The last few months especially, we've been on the road more than off, and we stay in people's homes about half the time. I often thank them in the Road Notes, and we're grateful for all the kind hospitality we receive from strangers. Now and then, however, we'll get a real DOG of a lodging, and there's nowhere for me to talk about that. I don't want to insult anyone, but some of the incidents are outrageous and funny and they should be told. I want to keep our website fairly p.c. So another raison for this diary's etre is, receptacle for off-color adventures and general venting.

However, I reserve the right to talk about other things as well.

Shall I give my stats? Age, location, likes & dislikes? Or shall I just let them emerge?

Okay. Miscellaneous facts: I'm 45 next month, I'm a full time musician/songwriter and animal lover (partial to dogs and rodents), I write really excellent poetry from time to time (you'll get some of it); I've never owned a home, I have no lover, my parents have both passed in the last year and a half; I'm interested in Buddha, Ganesh, Artemis, and angels, and yes I also like baseball and Bull Durham is one of my all time favorite films and so is Spinal Tap. I drive a Honda and currently the windshield wipers won't turn off. I'm pretty good about getting that stuff fixed. However my office usually looks like a disaster. I'm trying to cut down on the number of pillows I need to sleep, so I bought one of those expensive Isotonic memory-foam pillows and have survived one night with it so far. It's kind of like lying on a soft brick, and I spent most of the night thinking, "Why doesn't my head hurt yet?"

Then had to get up pre-dawn to go on the radio for a gig promotion. These promo interviews are fun, we're crammed into a tiny studio with only a few of our instruments, and singing half-awake. This time we went to a diner afterwards, ostensibly to celebrate some recent milestones, and one of my mates expressed a certain concern that I would move out of state and quit the band, based on two other bands I'd been in with my other mate, which for various reasons I quit. This story must be saved for later, for it involves sordid relationships and intrigue and horrible codependency and suicide and I'm not set to write about it now. It was long ago, although, as I found out today, not as far away as I imagined. I was insulted. I think I behave pretty honorably and I've made my commitment very clear. (Imagine being severely badmouthed by your ex for several months, when you're not in a position to defend yourself, and then said ex offing himself and leaving all that Opinion just lying around. I had no idea the closet was still so messy.) Just because I someday want to own a house, and have found a place to look around, doesn't mean I'll run off and stop pursuing our collective career. I'm 45 for God's sake. What am I going to do, go back to temping? Whadaya think, I'm flighty? Do I have to wear a sign?

Well, I don't have to defend myself to you. You don't even know me yet.

Anyway I understand that my mates are ambitious too, and we have a lot of momentum right now, and he needed reassuring that no dissention would arise from within the band that would kill the forward motion. I can relate to that.

Still, for pete's sake.