The drives have been short since Burlington. We've done about 800 miles so far. I'm in a beautiful loft in TriBeCa. We came in from Freehold, N.J. last night, evening time, having performed at a house party there. Folks brought pot luck, lawn chairs and children. It was a lovely Sunday afternoon.

After spending a couple days in Burlington gearing up, Brett and I did our first show with Rail Road Earth for a nearly sold out crowd at Higher Ground. Good times were had and our first performance came off well. Our voices fit really well and we're both extra excited about it. Despite having been in Burlington those couple days most of that time was spent seeing to travel and gear matters...so there's been a bit of onstage rehersing going on. Some people are religious about rehersal others are functional, some are molecularly disinclined towards it. We are simply lax. Brett's keen powers of observation are what will, in the end, make the show. Sometimes it's better just to play basketball with your fellow musician(s) since after all it's all a matter of catch on stage. I"m sure more rehersing will come in the months to come after we know what we're doing.

From Burlington we gassed up (at the Lucky Spot in Richmond, VT) on B20 and headed to Boston. The sound was excellent at the Paradise Lounge and the usual suspects were all in place. The next morning we were off to Woodstock, NY for a headline show at the Colony Cafe. Woodstock as you may know, is akin to the Bermuda Triangle. Cell phones most thankfully don't work there and the air smells so good it almost makes me hyperventilate in the first few minutes out of the car. After dinner with friends at The Bear, we cruised to soundcheck with the prettiest sound man I ever had named Julia. She wasn't a man at all of course but a real live girl. How nice. And she had the ears to prove it. She got us all plugged in and miced and it was off to the races. The show was intimate and I really felt like singing. I can feel my voice in a good place right now, richer and calmer. Not singing over a band of race car drivers feels rather like floating in the Dead Sea, I'm practically bobbing. Man and how nice is having a mandolin around? Awful nice.

After a long goodbye we poured into the Mercedes and trucked up to Levon Helm's Midnight Ramble in time to catch Lee's set. We were quickly tucked into the fold immeadiately behind Levon. The songs came and went and were great, Band tunes, Dylan tunes, rock and roll tunes. The voices all right on. The band members' playing totally inside and effortlessly. But the push that comes from him on the drums is like nothing, nothing else. It's familiar and not just cause you've heard every lick the band ever recorded one thousand times but because you know it from the womb, like the sound of your mother's voice or the purr of a cat or a waterfall that you knew before you had form.

After church we started another round of long goodbyes that went on for I don't really know how long but I had to hold on to a table so it wouldn't lay down and go to sleep. What a blast! Everybody was smiling.

Leaving Woodstock is like pulling a bandaide off, I have to do it quickly when it's time to go. Get in the car, lock the doors and push on the gas pedal. Don't stop for anything (except small animals crossing the road) because well the slightest derivation from course could derail the next show where ever it is. Earphones and blindfolds should be kept in the first aid box for such times. If you don't have some of those then designate someone else to drive who will turn a deaf ear to your whining to stay and will adhere steadfastly to the sobriety of the plan.

We begin the drive down to Dixie this afternoon. See you in the Big Easy on Saturday with Kenny Brown, RL Burnside's adopted son.