Some days there is hope.

I just came downstairs into my living room and knew that I needed to sit on the floor. You see, there's an unsettledness in me that needs to be brought out by being uncomfortable. Like when you have to cut open your finger to remove a splinter.

The internet has more than enough words in it. And music has more than enough singers and artists clamoring for your attention. So today I'll let someone else do the talking, and hope that I'm not adding to the noise.

Just a little tidbit of news for the 8 of you who read this...

It's the fifth of December today, and I sat down on my front porch in an old rust-colored sweater to do some afternoon reading. I think this is warm even by Tennessee standards, but when you grow up in Wisconsin, you don't expect to be doing any outdoor relaxing once the calendar switches to October, let alone December.

A few words from my friend Thomas Wolfe in You Can't Go Home Again:

Wouldn't it be great if there was one event in Nashville that featured local musicians, local visual artists, and local writers all at the same time?

Greetings from the land of Grand Rapids, Michigan! The midwest really knows how to do fall.  Tennessee could learn a few things as far as I'm concerned.