You've seen it happen before: a couple songwriters get together, it's a happy reunion of like-minded creative individuals, and they're excited to catch up.  "What have you been up to?" one asks.  "Oh, I'm fresh back from a musical sojourn on the east coast," says the other.  " I see.  Did you play at Passim, the Living Room, any in-studio radio stuff?" asks the first.  The conversation quickly moves into familiar troubador dialogue territory...who books there now?...ever heard of so-and-so?  i opened for him in Syracuse...pretty good, yeah, kind of aloof...want to hear my new song?.......and so on. 

Well, that kind of patter certainly serves a purpose.  Obviously, the best source of advice and information is other people who're trying to make a career out of music.  For my part, I've benefitted enormously from the sage counsel of other, more experienced, touring songwriters.  After awhile, though, it's nice when you can move on to less directly song-related confabulatory material.  I have no problem with political discussions, for instance, and the sharing of more personal feelings and goings-on is a surefire way to become better friends with someone.  However, it may be difficult to abruptly transition to this kind of talk,  moving beyond the customary palaver without some well-designed segue.  For this reason, I offer up the icebreaker of roadkill talk.  Everyone has, at some point, had to drive a long distance late at night, and anyone who's been lucky enough never to hit an animal has certainly had some close calls.  This may seem like a gruesome line of conversation, but think about it: what better way to pay homage to the animals who's lives were ended by a fast moving vehicle than to remember and relate the experience to others?  Well, yes...eating them is a good idea too.