So I have a gig on Friday, at the Coffee Loft in Marlborough. And I’d love to see you there. Because I long for ears, and eyeballs. Such is the life of a musician. Read more »

This is going to be a shorter essay than usual, because I gotta go practice. You’ll see why in a minute. Read more »

This is not exactly a holiday story, except in the sense of its being about an unexpected gift. Read more »

One of my friends has mice. It’s never singular, because there’s never just one mouse. We had mice a couple years ago. My wife, She Who Must Be Taunted, dubbed them “our hated enemies”, and it stuck: we have always been at war with Mouselandia. Read more »

This is one of my favorite stories, ever, period. Read more »

So I’m stuck. Read more »

Oh, what a night. (“Late September back in” – oh, wait, you can hear that.) I could see the Big Dipper dipping overhead, as I lay there in the breeze. On stage, it was Richard Thompson, the man with more fingers than me, wowing the audience with his cheeky, self-effacing English humor, not to mention his guitar playing. The sound system was perfect, the temperature was perfect, the audience was perfectly attentive. And as I looked around at the beautiful setting, what I thought was: no, thank you. Read more »

I have a good friend who’s using Kickstarter to finance the editing of a documentary he’s working on. Now, I have lots of thoughts about Kickstarter, most of which don’t really belong in this here newsletter; but the thing that caught my interest on this particular day was the fact that, apparently, some of my friend’s Kickstarter pledges are people he’s never met. That’s right, he’s gotten a little viral action out of the social aspect of Kickstarter – and I’ve gotta say, I still don’t get it. At all. Read more »

I’ve got this thing about bridges. I don’t mean the kind you drive over – I mean the kind you sing. For some reason, I discover that my cleverest moments end up being in the bridge. You need an example, you say? Well, coincidentally, I’ve got one right here. Read more »

My wife, She Who Must Be Taunted, and I – we’re sick. Not morally degenerate (although you could make a case for that), but rather, physically ill. We don’t know what it is – but it might be pertussis, otherwise known as whooping cough. Medieval, I know, but we didn’t really have any choice in the matter. Read more »