I missed you, impenatrable fog layer

It's halfway through May, the tour is over, and it's time to start thinking about the ever pressing issue of rent. And food. And haircuts. I don't want to start looking like Bootsy Collins over here; I don't think I could pull off the sunglasses. So the issue, of course, is money, and, rather than pull a Margita Bangova, I decided to crawl back to work, yet again. I have expensive habits...like, say, not eating cardboard.

Of course, I exagerrate. We did rather well on our tour of the Northwest & the Midwest & the Southwest & the ever elusive Westwest, but we have creditors and they have goons, so, in the interests of not bleeding internally, I'm back at work. Hip hip hooray.

I spent my first and only true day off scouring my room for old letters, drum machine chords, and clean socks while taking too many banjo breaks. In the end, the room is now actually dirtier, but there's a few bags of trash to show for my efforts. And a nice little banjo ditty. Last night I was lucky enough to check out Cloud Cult & Hijack the Disco at the Makeout Room and they were both worth the lack of sleep. I've got that post-show-ten-song-medley-stuck-in-my-head-thing going on to boot and it's a rather enjoyable one. Lots of keyboards and catchy basslines. Bravo to both.

So, 8500 miles, 27 days later, we're home and we're rested and we get to crank out the new songs that have been sugarplumming through our noggins in the van. But first a break. And, of course, LOST. I've missed the last two episodes (SO SHUT UP) but I'll be caught up tonight. Hook it up to the vein.