...and hey! We played pretty well last night. I only monstrously fucked up once, which illicited a chuckle from Tim “Tim” Burke over in monitor world, but he caught the kiss I blew at him so all’s right in the world. Our first show post mortem was pretty ho-hum too, a collective meh, I guess we don’t suck at this quite as much as we thought. So yeah, go ahead and unsubscribe now, I won’t be offended.

The production on this tour’s incredible - vibrant color palettes, giant pastel paper flowers strewn about the stage, and the band dressed in all manner of Willy Wonka approved hipster garb. It is, in all ways, a celebration, and I suppose that means it’s ok acknowledging our not being distractingly terrible.

The crew’s hard at work, and I’m writing this on a park bench in Napa, swine that I am, soaking up some vitamin D, looking forward to a podcast with Chrys Johnson, head artist rep with Jim Dunlop. I’m thankful for my adolescent, and indeed present day, romantic underachievement for leading me down this kooky road. It’s been an odd journey, but painful nerdiness has its perks.