I can't believe it - the final masters are final. It's all done. The record is done.

Well, I haven't been communicating with anybody about anything, so I imagine everyone has pretty well lost track of what's going on with yours truly, to the extent that they were keeping track in the first place...

But you should know that I am happy with my lady, my record is done, and I am very, very tired.

You should know that Sir Tyson Bucwalter Sanchez (etc), the little-person tractor king of upstate New York, is crashing into Brooklyn this weekend, and short shorts will be involved. But this is another matter.

Death to false singer-songwriter indie-pop. Or something.