Sometimes when I get home from a trip, I get very nostalgic. Don't we all? Well, if you do or ever have,  then this blog is for you. I haven't written a blog in over a  year or so, maybe cause I can't stand the thought that they are nothing but transparent, and I am usually in the mood to write when I am melancholy. Tonight, almost tomorrow, I sit in the dark, starring at the only light around...  trying desperately to make sense of how to collect the pieces of myself that have been scattered around the globe. Today, after spending half my day doing the responsible sort of duties, I stood at my car, chatting with a friend, trying to describe to him how when I come home from countries with centuries upon centuries of art, history and culture... I feel terribly lost. And not to begin a political discussion, but I long for the depth that only time can achieve. I can see it in a piece of art, smell it in the rain soaked cathedrals, taste it in the coffee. When I come home, there is something missing in this respect. Not that it isn't filled with so many other unique qualities that only home can provide... yet... so much feels scattered. How days and nights can be filled to the brim, playing music in uncharted territory for my hands, feeling so many things at once. And then there is the silence that I must settle back into, the slow molasses-like movement of the present, the unquenchable desire to run back into the arms of my travels. What may shock you even more is that it has been over a month. I feel myself falling back into place for the most part, and then there are nights like tonight. A relapse, if you will, of rememberance. The deep thread of desire for all that is colorful and lively pulled like a snag in my everyday costume...
  I read that there is a time for everything, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to gather seeds and a time to scatter them. I am content to know that just as the seasons come and go, so will these desired moments of what makes me feel most alive. I will not fight the moments of what seems plain or ordinary, they too have their place. Certainly peace is achieved not by the circumstance, but the wisdom with which we receive these circumstances. In the uncharted territory of our lives, may we be free to run as fast as we can and hit the stops at full speed when required.

Monika and I just got back from my "poor girls tour" in europe, where I played out virtually every night in Dublin, Stockholm, and London. It was amazing! We met so many new friends, saw so many new things, experienced the cultures to their fullest. I was so excited to meet up with some new really talented musicians, and some I had already had the pleasure of meeting. Stuart O'Connor in London... thanks for putting me on your bill. Markus Nylund, what a voice... really. We stayed up all night writing songs and playing together. Serious musical chemistry. Thanks to all our hosts along the way, we were well taken care of. Thanks to the girls in stockholm, we had a great tour of the old city. I will be posting up some pics.. so if you all are interested, take a look.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YuMuLK9okFk

As I sit here, I am overwhelmed with the thought that I alone will carry the burdens of my decisions, or lack there of.  Staring back at me are all the things to do, the album to make, the shows to book, the newsletters to keep up; the innovation and inspiration of music to hand out. As an artist, ever growing older, there is the constant burden of keeping up, of staying prolific, believing that you still have something to offer. Somewhere, it can become too much carrying that burden alone. Bands are great because at least you have someone to share the joys and pains with. As a solo artist, unless you have an awesome team of supporters behind you, it can be enouph to drive one mad. I am not trying to be depressing, this just seems to be the ever flowing stream of my heart over the last 3 years as I have reached to accomplish something through music.  And, in all this, I have to ask myself over and over again, why it is that I play music as a carrer, other than the fact that I am driven to it. There is that message to be sent, the love of God, the truth of humanitys' insatiability and sorrows and of course the relation to it. There is the hope sung from a broken hearted point of view. All of these things make it reason enouph to keep on keepin on, but the road is marked with suffering. And, as every hard working independant musician will note, sometime the lonley road of music just plain sucks. thank you and goodnight.

It is Februrary, and it is HOTTTT is australia. Vacationing on white beach bush land, watching the sun come up over the ocean, and set on miles and miles of untouched forest. Ya, the forest that american developers would die to bulldoze and develope, leaving all those cute little kangaroos without a home. My breath is taken away by streams that run with tea tree oil naturally, the abundance of fresh air with all these plants, the amount of green one place can contain, not to mention the size and detail of their spiders. What can I say, who wouldn't be inspired to write or sing when even the birds here can carry melodies that are unmatched by the finest voices. It is, most definatly, a trip to remember.

I have searched san fransisco musicians as I am getting ready to depart here on the ol april spring tour. where have all the alley cats gone. scrolling through the masses of musicians, i found only but few to string along an appetite. why is making fun of people so hilarious. who is making fun of me? It's easy to make fun, it's all good fun, funfunfun. ever said that word enouph to wonder who made it up and why they chose such a dull word to describe such a good time, and why is the english language so dull, and how is it that there are such increadable ways of manipulating it. ahh, good times and late nite laughter....