Even though I work from home, I get the pleasure of mixing with some real characters during my day, one being Ron. Fortunately, Ron is a little bit off, just like me, and has highly entertaining accounts of his life.

He's the kind of person who says things like, "I get bored and so cause trouble.  I need brakes; I really do," and you know he means it. 

During a recent exchange, Ron referred to himself as a "weather perfectionist," and cited the climate challanges as is his reason for moving from Northern California to Southern California.

He said he was considering naming his waiting-to-be-written book "Never Underestimate the Importance of Nice Weather." Upon hearing that phrase, my little wheels started turning.

In an ideal world, Jimmy Buffett's people will buy this little bugger from me and thus make Ron and me a boatload of cash. If any of you Parrotheads have an in, let me know.

So, what do my best friend Megan Jane, high school football and Johnny Cash have in common? Well, they are all responsible for my newest song, Abigail.

Megan called me Saturday morning and said she had a dream that we were at a high school football game (where she was cheerleading, natch) and I wowed the crowd with a sad, sad, sad half-time song about an unknown "Abigail" that was reminiscent of Johnny Cash's Were You There (When They Crucified My Lord).

Not your typical high-school fan fare -- probably hard for the flag team to choreograph a routine around something like that --but Meg said the crowd in her dream loved it.

"You sounded kinda twangy and yodel-y when you sang," she said.

So, not one to let inspiration like that die, I went to bed with that notion on my mind and I awoke with the phrase "August mind" in my head.

What in the hell is an August mind? I don't really know, but it conjured up something feverish and -- whamm-o -- this song practically wrote itself from there.

I hope you are surrounded by inspiring people on this lovely Sunday afternoon.

So, about two years ago, Travis and I met for a couple of beers and decided what the hell, let's do it. We met a few days later to record at his house—just me and the guitar. It was the first time I'd worked with a click track, which was an immense experience in itself, since I'm not known for staying in rhythm.

Well, Trav worked his magic and mixed "Where to Go" into a full-fledged song. As many of you will undoubtedly pick up, I wrote this fairly soon as my Mom passed away, and it's one that I haven't revisited since working with Travis two years ago. I'm still in awe when I hear the violins and back-up singers (back-up singers!) on the track. It's like hearing the song for the first time.

Travis is updating his Web site, so stay tuned for future updates about him and his great work!

No excuses; it's been a hell of a long time. I've been writing—I promise you that—and so I hope these are the first of many, many consecutive new music offerings.

You Remind Me of Me

Hmm. Suffice to say that if you overlaid this little whirly gig of a song on top of my journal, much of it would match up. Except the title and chorus—I plum stole those from a book I got at the library by an author named Dan Choan. The phrase stuck with me, and I couldn't shake it. I don't think it's plagiarism to steal a title, but I guess we'll find out when this song hits it big.

Nobody Ever Listens

Holy geez, it's soul-baring Sunday. This baby's another winner in the honesty category. Perhaps a bit exaggerated. A bit.

Nobody Ever Listens was written as amalgamated apology/explanation for some of the boys I done did wrong, in one way or another,over the years. If you're wondering if this one's for you, the answer is probably yes.

But don't worry potential suitors. I'm all better now.

Perhaps also a bit exaggerated. A bit.

My dear friend, Glynnis, is a bit of a conduit for Universal messages. The Universe, the faeries, spirits—whoever or whatever it is—use her as kind of a post office. They leave messages for her to deliver to us, her thankful friends.

She had one for me the other day, but she was a bit hesitant to share it.

"Now, you know this isn't coming from me right, V? It's not a judgment" she said.

"I do, G. Spill it."

"Well, they told me to tell you to make sure you're not getting further away from your path."

I assured her that, while that particular thing was constantly on my mind, I was grateful for her delivery and that it couldn't have come at a better time because I've been flooded with songs that were crying to get some attention.

And it's a funny thing because while I pluck a good 90% of my songs directly from my own experiences or feelings and can tie them (or at least small bits of them) back to exact moments in my life, there are some that aren't mine, but simply come through me. One of those songs has been extrememly persistant.

So, when this happens, I understand what Glynnie feels when The Universe gives her a message to deliver but you're not sure you want to hand it over. You want to do it correctly and you don't want to leave anything out, but it's hard when it's not quite something you would normally say.

"Ruined" is one of those post-office songs. I'm just delivering the message. But I like this sad, little song. They're always my favorites, anyway.

Those who know me know I squirm when I have to listen to my own music, but this one isn't really mine per se, so I've been playing it over and over again. It's got me captivated. Who is this poor broken-hearted man? Why'd he choose me to try and tell his story?

I don't know. But I'm glad he did.

*Sorry to juxtapose you with a song called "Ruined," G Love—nothing could be further from the truth.

George Harrison, Jeff Lynne, Roy Orbison, Tom Petty and Bobby Dylan -- that's good stuff right there.