I spent the night at Todd and Sue's place in beautiful Asheville, North Carolina, and they really made me feel at home. The goodwill and compassion of other human beings makes tours like this bearable. Thanks a 1,000,000 folks!

Driving into a parched Atlanta in the late afternoon sun, the city looked like a piece of fish that had been baked too long. Reservoirs and lakes are so low that the piers and docks have been left high and dry, with the clay soil burned hard and red. The local newspapers were actually talking about the "what if" contingencies of serious water rationing. I don't mean fines for watering your lawn. I'm talking about the entire water system in a city of 4 million people being shut off entirely for three days at a time. No shit. The local fire departments were talking in very real terms of a second burning of Atlanta. Fuck.

No water, no life.

Now imagine how those people in Baghdad feel, often with no water of electricity for days on end. What goes around comes around. We need a karmic metamucil.

Govenor Sonny Pardue has created a stink by leading public prayers for rain on the steps of the capital building in Atlanta. Its understandable. I wouldn't want an elected official telling me what to pray for, when to pray, how to pray, or even to pray at all. Thats not their job, and its also a private matter. That being said, given the sitaution down there, I'd say its probably not a bad idea. Maybe "prayer" is just a bad word choice. Its a term thats a little too loaded for most folks.

Have you ever seen the movie "Harold and Maude"? In the film, Ruth Gordon's character says:

"I don't pray, I have conversations".

I like that. I think connecting with some kind of higher, positive, creative force is a good thing. So if those folks down there in Atlanta want to converse with Allah, or Buddah, or Jehovah, or Yahweh, or Krishna, or Jesus, or Wakantanka, or just with themselves, more power to 'em. It couldn't hurt.

It was a day off for Ani and Buddy, so I played a open mic night at Eddie's attic, a legendary Atlanta acoustic room. I haven't played one of these things in years, but I figured I'd try and make some gas money. Much to my surprise the place was packed and the performers were excellent for the most part. I was shocked (and honored) when I made the final 3 contestants. In the end Eddie (the owner, who actually judges the event, and even sets up your mic stand for you, bless him!) awarded the prize to a local, and he deserved it. It was very affirming just to be selected for the finalists.
Thanks Eddie, and no, it wasn't just a line. I really did open for Ani.

The Variety Playhouse in Atlanta is in the groovy area of town. Every town has one. It gets created organically by artists, musicians and others who aren't afraid to live the way they want. Then the rents go up, the property values go up, the area gets gentrified because its become hip, and then it dies, because the people who made it hip can't afford to live there anymore. God bless capitalism.

Buddy was in an improvisational mood. Minutes before we were to go on, he looked at me and said, "How would you feel about playing some harp on a new one, if I call it out?"

"Sure, why not?" I said. This was something we had never rehearsed, and we just winged it. I lifted a riff from my favorite single by Big Walter Horton. The audience loved it, and I got more compliments for that than anything else so far this tour. I didn't have the heart to tell Buddy until after the show that it was the first time I'd ever played harp in public.

Ani was as fantastic as ever. Her guitar playing is so complex and incredibly precise, its astonishing. The crowd is unlike any I've ever been around before...so supportive, so passionate, so friendly. This is true music making. It benefits all involved. By the end of the night, my face was hurting from smiling so much. No joke.

I can't believe I've been so fortunate to be a part of this experience.

Right now I gotta go set up for soundcheck in Durham, North Carolina. More later.


Oh yeah, I hate to tell all those folks in Atlanta, but their lawns aren't nearly as brown and dry as the hills of Sonoma County California. Hopefully they won't have the experience with fire that Californians often do.


Hau, mitakuye oyasin

Chris