Over the years, I’ve come to appreciate that jet leg is a beautiful thing. I am, after all, writing this while the sun’s rising in Lorne, Victoria, Australia. The words are coming slowly, but the brain fog’s beginning to lift, and I’m registering that a Kookaburra tried to steal my kangaroo meat last night, which is now a sentence I get to write.

I don’t think I’ve ever been up voluntarily at 4am, and I’m looking forward to a couple hours of reading and beach meandering before the aptly and matter-of-factly named East Beach Café opens for business. I finished the Elon Musk bio on the plane, and next up’s The Book of the New Sun by Gene Wolfe, which has been described as sci-fi’s Ulysses. While Elon’s inventing space internet, I’ll settle for a scone, some tea, and inter-planetary blood feuds.

In a few short hours, Lorne with be overrun by boisterous, sleep-deprived Americans and hungover Aussies, all gathered to celebrate the wedding of Allen Stone and Tara Lawson. It’s true - professional maniac Allen Nathan Stone, of over-sized sweater fame, my pal and bandmate, is getting freaking MARRIED! It shall be a party, ladies and gentlemen, and tomorrow’s post will be written likely while still intoxicated. Tour manager extraordinaire Ryan “Bear” Drozd’s suit alone’s worth the trip (photo evidence is forthcoming).