good.

so i can play you this song i wrote on the farm yesterday.

it’s a capital D demo:

1. it was recorded at hooch’s kitchen counter on a telephone.
2. the shaker is a box of apple watermelon nerds.
3. multiple dogs are audible.
4. first takes all around.
5. sounds a little rough around the edges.

all that being said, i can’t stop listening to it.

likely because it was a part of one of the best days of recent memory.

work up alone on a the farm.

coffee.

fed the puppies and chickens.

breakfast.

guitar on the porch swing, where i struggled with this pop song that’s been damning up the works for a few weeks. i didn’t get any closer after a concerted effort, but then this one just fell out.

when they fall out, they’re more fun to listen to, cause it doesn’t seem like you wrote them.

then freud on the hammock.

swimming in little grassy lake.

dinner from the co-op.

kitchen recording session.

giants-cubs on the tele (giants win it on an 8th inning pat burrell home run).

few beers.

soy milk.

cookies.

sleep.

***

anyway, i don’t know who or when or why or how or what with this song …

but it’s about a drought.

and it’s called cruel water.

(interestingly, today, the day after this recording, two hours of afternoon rain. first in months … coincidence?)

***

officer, i’d like to report an unnatural act. (btw, lefty did the most amazing thing he’s ever done on this trip, and i missed it. you’ll notice that this piñata is a giant pink dog. so it was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, and lefty, in his wanderings, strolled past it in the middle of the party, and casually sniffed its asshole before moving along.)

buster siesta.

mary ann henry got shit faced this weekend. i feel so close to her now! she was howling at the moon at one point, and was giving me a heap of shit about writing songs about whore houses. i like this mary ann henry. a lot.

josh is a bad assed rock diver. and he’s not smoking in this picture.

talia threw a fit one night, as kids do, freaking out about packing her suitcase or something, and when the dust settled, she walked into the living room where i was. i said, ‘what the hell just happened? what were you on about?’ and she just started shitting herself laughing and said, ‘i don’t know!’

katie, as part of the style team that assembles this particular look of mine, hard at work. i have hearts and stars on my toes now. and you don’t.

isabella.

blackened chicken does not give you cancer. but 17st bbq sauce is amazing, burnt or not …

the lovely smith shoot.

i love this man.

give this girl a job already, god … are we going yet? what are we ordering when we get there? what time did you get up? what are you doing? what are we doing? huh?

the great dagan shoot … made me a sandwich and brought me a drink to the hammock for an hour and fifty minutes of angry birds play time on my phone. tough negotiator …

geiser. genius. ’nuff said.

tim and lisa. this time my car didn’t die, so timmy didn’t have to drive me back to the rouge. but i still felt better that he was around!

sunset over little grassy.

lefty spent a lot of time on the rear floorboard.

like any good adventure:peaks and valleys.

i …

ate lots of meat and fried food. the so called middle america stroke diet. i need a good ole fashioned california cleanse. some yoga. tofu. seaweed. deep tissue. or maybe just some exercise.

never realized how far 3d films have come. the last one i watched that i can remember (aside from some shit the flaming lips might have pulled at a show in the mid-90s) was jaws 3d. i think i was eight. it sucked. but i saw u23d at the rock and roll hall of fame (more to come on that geek fest day of bliss later) and lost my shit. after the first song i. started. clapping. like a douche, i started clapping. thought i was at the concert, i did. it’s like when you rub a dog’s stomach and his leg moves cause he thinks he’s scratching himself. just like that. and then i watched avatar. remarkable in many ways, but you could taste the can in that story, man. mercy.

never realized how good u2′s ‘how to dismantle an atomic bomb’ was, either. one of the best rock records of recent years, i’d say. pulling into chicago on a beautiful friday night at dusk listening to ‘miracle drug’ was as good as it gets … listening to tom waits’ ‘bone machine’ driving through the west virginia mountains at dusk in a snow storm was a close second.

believe the universe put me in touch with jim duffy … again. i was in chicago for about 16 hours. texted jim duffy out of the blue. said, ‘hey man. i’m in wicker park.’ he said, ‘me too. where?’ i said, ‘wicker park lounge.’ a minute later … jim duffy. standing in front of me. he was getting into a cab across the street when he got my text. chicago’s a big city, boys and girls … that’s peculiar. best night of the trip, hands down. todd henry. bulls game. sushi samba. excessive drinking. brilliant cabbies. the girls of michigan avenue meet lefty. logan square (or park?) or wherever the hell jim took us in the middle of the night to meet his sweet girl sarah. that was why i drove 4,000 miles. thanks, todd.

ran out of gas once and damn, damn, damn near twice. fifteen gallon tank. i put 14.948 gallons in today. in the middle of arkansas. that would have been ugly.

realized i ran from some things into other things and then kept right on running from those, too. and on new years eve, around four am, i distinctly remember telling jay and igor – passionately – and with all sincerity, that ‘i am a rolling stone!’ i knew that already, but, you know, you forget, but it felt right to remember it, like when you suddenly remember the name of a girl you randomly slept with once and had long forgotten all about it. that kinda good.

wondered if it was somehow strange or cause for alarm that i spent over four thousand miles worth of time alone in my car with young lefty and loved every second of it. like maybe there’s some things you shouldn’t get too good at?

played music with chad and jay and tim and the guitarist from scathe whose name i am forgetting on new years and felt one hundred feet tall. better than ever. like sleeping with an old girlfriend after a long life apart. fresh yet familiar, and much better with age. or at least that’s how i remember it, anyway. so good.

love being so close to the hooch and sarah. this morning over coffee, the discussion was on hooch’s organic farm wish list. seeds. various other organic farm accoutrements like thin materials you put over your plants to keep the bugs off. hooch says, ‘we can lay these over the potatoes when the potato bugs come out.’ sarah says, ‘i thought that was what the game hens were for.’ hooch says, ‘no, the game hens are for squash bugs.’ sarah turns to me and says, ‘this organic farming is a pain in the fucking ass,’ to which hooch replies fervently, ‘it’s called integrated pest control, sarah!’ yes it is, hooch. another memorable line came from todd henry in champaign before the illini game. we were looking for a bar todd used to know about, but couldn’t find. pulled over at a spot he though it used to be at. hooch and todd hop out, go into the bar, and turn immediately around and get back in the car. i say, jokingly, ‘what’s up? homo bar?’ and todd, without missing a beat, replies, ‘i told ‘em we’ll drink with anybody, but not with you faggots.’

feel good to be home. i guess. it’s cold here, too. and i wish there was something fresh yet familiar here for me. but there just ain’t. so … sleep and wake and see. i’m making howard stern’s turkey chili tomorrow. it’s really good. you should come try some.