So I'm checking my email like any other day and I get this email from someone identifying himself as a fan who wants lyrics to all my songs. Not just the ones on the webstie. He mentions that he lives in Taiwan and heard my music over the internet. But the way his email reads he sounds American. So I query a bit.

It turns out he's an American school teacher who defected from the public school system here because he didn't feel he could teach the way he wanted to. So he opened a school in Taiwan. It's called Bridge To English. Turns out he's been using my lyrics to to teach English over there. I was thrilled and honored beyond description. Imagine how that feels— words you wrote to express a particular state of mind or experience are being used to teach people another language. He told me that he feels words or text with an emotional component have more impact, are more deeply and thoroughly absorbed, and that his students were very moved by my 700 Miles story.

It just goes to show you, you never know what the day holds. Out of the blue comes a brand new sky.

Cheers,
ML

Hello Friends:

I'm about to be portrayed! There's a theater piece about East Village artists called Alphabet City which involves actors choosing someone from the neighborhood they want to portray. A wonderful young actress named Katherine Renee Cortez chose me. After extensive interviews and spending time with me I think she may be having some regrets. But I think she felt better after I loaned her some of my clothes.

The evening will consist of three actors doing their characters and will last about an hour and a half. The schedule and address are below and also on the attached PDF.

Hope to see you there,
Mary Lee

Thursday, August 9th, 8:00 pm
Saturday, August 11th, 2:00 pm
Wednesday, August 15th, 8:00 pm
Saturday, August 17th, 8:00 pm

Metropolitan Playhouse
220 East Fourth Street
New York, New York 10009
Office: 212 995 8410 Tickets: 212 995 5302
www.metropolitanplayhouse.org

I'd been hearing rumors that the Mary Lee's Corvette version of Blood On The
Tracks was being played as intro music before some of Dylan's shows around the country. Our "You're A Big Girl Now" had been on his website for awhile. So my manager decided to try and get me an opening slot on the Dylan tour. "Yea yea yea" I said. Don't bother me with these silly visions." But he disregarded my cynicism and kept in touch with Bob's people.

On August 13, 2003, New York City was one link in a chain of the now historic "biggest blackout in history". Dylan was supposed to play at The Hammerstein Ballroom that night. Needless to say, it didn't happen and was rescheduled for the following Wednesday, August 20. The Monday before, at about 9:30 AM, I got a call from Clear Channel Concert Promotions asking if I could do a show that Wednesday. "I could probably get it together," I supposed. "It's Dylan," they said. "Consider me available," I announced. They said they'd get back to me.

I immediately called everyone — Andy, Brad, Joe, Graham — telling them we were on hold to open for Bob Dylan and could they make it. They all found a way to adjust their schedules. We figured we should rehearse and thought we'd do it on the way to the venue on Wednesday. I of course didn't get confirmation that the gig was happening till about 26 hours before our showtime. Then everyone went into high gear.

I actually was able to get some sleep that night. I woke up happy and excited and told my husband "I'm going to enjoy every minute of this day." After my first cup of coffee I got a call from Dylan's production manager asking if I had my own sound man and sound board. A low level panic set in. "No," I told him. It turned out I was going to have to rely on the kindness of Dylan's crew to let us use Dylan's PA and to do our sound for us. Apparently this wasn't the first time something like this had happened and I was assured it would all work out. And it did.

We arrived at the Hammerstein at 2:30 and proceeded to wait. This was the same venue where we'd had the odd experience of being the only American band on some bizarre Russian rock show where the audience was given rubber balls upon entering the place to throw at the bands. It somehow represented freedom. It hurt. Anyway, we were assuming the rubber balls came with that event, not the venue, and were optimistic that we wouldn't be bruised during the show.

We started soundcheck at around 4:30. It was proceeding well, in a very business-like fashion. We ran through one song. Then another. Then one more. Then I turned around to say something to Graham and standing about 8 feet away was the familiar face of Tony Garnier. Next to him was a guy, not too tall, in a cowboy hat. Then it hit me: That's Bob Dylan. He's on stage listening to my soundcheck. Our eyes met, I hesitated, then took the bold step of waving my hand at him ever so slightly. He smiled and nodded. It was an indescribable sensation. A thrill like out of a dream where you know you're flying even though you're sure you can't.

I turned around and announced to the sound man that we'd do a bit of our first song. But none of us was able to stop. We did the whole song, too excited not to rock with all our might.

The evening proceeded. We did our show which was fun and fantastic and very well received by the audience. The fastest 40 minutes of my life. And all of this on the birthday of my husband! A magical day indeed.

The morning of the blackout, before the lights went out, I woke up in a darkness all my own. I'd just experienced a glorious 3 months opening for Joe Jackson all over the world but had no other major tours on the books. I was feeling bad. Something bold inside me made me demand a great gift from the universe that morning. "You are going to send me something good today. It might not reach me today, but you're sending it today!" I don't know if it was the gods or UPS ground that intercepted my order, or just regular mail. But someone heard me and delivered the goods big time.

Back from another leg of the LL&L tour. This one and the west coast were the first that Roscoe and I ever did together. It was fantastic. We rocked and folked and all that we're meant to do. Also got to see wonderful friends along the way. And driving across this country is always a total treasure. I love being on the road. It's fun gettin stupid in the car, stopping for weird regional food, hitting the occasional cultural spot. It's the best way to deny reality I can think of. And then you get home to piles of mail and unattended things and the unavoidable mundane. Mutlu was with us most of the way, a wonderful new friend and artist. Check him out at Mutlusounds.com.

I still get the biggest charge of going somewhere I hardly ever am and having people actually know the songs and want to hear them. I just never take that for granted. So if you're one of them, thank you. Teenage girls who bring me drawings, or parents who are there with their kids it's a thrill to have songs that speak to both.

This isn't a very clever blog, but keep checking in. When I've recovered from my road work maybe my wit will come home too.
MLK

I awoke one morning from yet another great dream about Dylan and thought "I can't be the only person on the planet dreaming about Bob." So I posted on expecting rain and a few other places and people have started sending me their dreams. So I am a now a Dylan dream collector. Please send me yours.