THE FEED

Got back from the road yesterday: eleven shows, four thousand miles and one broken string. Thank you to every venue that fed me, every promoter who stayed to the end and every stranger who let me sleep on a couch. The van is clean, the laundry is not, and I'm already booking the next run.

I've been making music for twenty years and I still get nervous every time I press record.

Wrote four new songs on a train this week. Two of them might survive the morning.

New in the shop: a heavy canvas tote, screenprinted by a friend with a press in her basement. It holds six records and a sandwich, and it has already survived a very rainy week in Detroit. Limited to eighty. Once they're gone, I'll probably forget the design and start over.