11.19.07-Thanksgiving and the Parade Phenomena

Monday's aren't so bad as people say. I don't have a conventional
schedule either, really. Today wasn't a good Monday, though, as my
lack of dental insurance has delivered the proverbial financial sting.
Looks like I need a sum total of three root canals as a result of my
bicycle wreck some two months ago. All of you really should (If you
haven't already) take a thorough look at my catalogue of music and
consider buying some songs for loved ones to lift their Christmas
spirits and lower my dental bill.
Everyone wins.
It's mad hot outside for mid/late November. I remember a scorching
Thanksgiving Day when I was seven years old. At that point in my life,
Thanksgiving was (unfortunately) just as much about the Macy's Day
Parade as it was being thankful. I don't know why. Parades are so
strange. And expensive too. Tradition...sure...I get it. They're very
strange, though. Large blow-up characters, dancers in Santa-wear,
special appearances from famous singers, and whatever else. I don't
think I'd find parades strange if it weren't for the inordinate amount
of hype that surrounds them. Man, people would lose their minds if
there were no Macy's Day Parade. Those same people probably have
hefty, long conversations about things that are mostly secondary in
any context. The flavor of salt. Salt is salt, man. But, I had a way
better perspective as a seven-year-old than I do now. So, parades must
serve some public service, because my seven-year-old mind was a
creative force, and I thought parades were dope. I'm convinced that I
would have no limits as an artist if I had access to my seven-year-old
mind; however, I would have to convince my seven-year-old self not to
focus soley on athletic portrait drawing. Always a catch.
Here's to being thankful in the midst of moderately hard times. It's
what I'm trying to do these days.

Micah

Record Done but Laptop Stolen.

I have taken a serious hiatus from the blog world, and there is no good reason for it: truth be told. However, some shifts have happened..some good and bad. Someone stole my lap top. The lap top has recently had a tumultuous journey as I just replaced the hard drive recently. She served me well for about 3 years. And whoever stole it: I reckon you needed it more than I did. The good news is..we finished the record...it's done. We spent 2 days finishing mixes and tweaks this past weekend in Nashville. Our friend Stephen Gause did a wonderful job of setting the sonic tone and coloring these tunes. I cannot wait for this piece to hit the streets. It's the fruit of hours of labor, coffee drinking, arguing over lyrics/arranging, creating characters, meeting real ones, getting lost in a song, getting found in a song, and, finally, breathing deep. I'm coming up to New York again. If you're there we should go to Virgil's in Times Square. It's not particularly a New York experience, in fact, it's a southern BBQ joint. But I don't care, it tastes good. By the way, the laptop is getting replaced. Bam, bam, body slam.

Micah

Sandlot Baseball + Studio= Blog

We're going to make it after all. I was talking to a friend about our
'pre-release' or 'currently-working-on-a-record' nervousness/anxiety
this morning over coffee. It's something that I didn't have during the
process of my first record. Why should I? Nobody listened to my music
anyway. I was excited about 1000% percent of the time before, during,
and after the process of it. Just working on a record was an end in
itself. There's a certain excitement that's prevalent in the air, or,
at least, in my own air that's reminiscent of the old days - you know,
three years ago. James Gregory and I have been at work making what
will become "PAWNSHOP" or something like it - a 12 song collective of
jams that my consciousness no longer had room for. Here are the
tentative titles of said jams:

Down, Down, Put it Down
I'll Find you in Ohio
She Uses Love Like a Cuss Word
Rev. Ramshack Run
We Could Take the Back Roads
Looking for a New Way
What Would I Do Were They Free?
Easier to Read
We Came Alive Tonight
The Grandest Prize
The Autobiography of Milton Burrows
Your Name is

It's a strange time to give birth to a new musical project as world
issues on a grander scale show themselves strong. War and sadness
going hand in hand. The UN has yet to really get their hands dirty in
Sudan. Thirty percent of my tax dollar goes into military spending.
That bothers me in a general way, but if I were to have that going to
something, it would be nice to know that some of that coin is heading
to fight genocide. It's a do or die issue. I'm not nearly as aware and
pro-active as some folks I know, but any attempt to create a
collective sympathy for a drastic cause seems worthwhile. Even a
simple blog is a worthy medium.

Right now, my pal Tom Yarbrough is bringing Appalachia straight into
the urban skyline. Tom has his banjo and is using it on this tune
we're working on called "Looking for a New Way." It's a sonic monument
built to both Moses and Martin Luther King, Sr. A wild thing about the
recording process this time is the timeline. It has involved two
really intensive schedules at two different times of the year and two
trips to Europe in between. I never thought to go to Europe, and I
never thought to record half a record in January and half in August.
Tons of surprises. Camping out here in Nashville has been quite a
wonderful couple of weeks. I have one more to go, and I'm kind of
dreading it. The past couple nights have been particularly exciting
because of this NEXT BIG NASHVILLE event. I just happened to land in
town during this event. There are tons of really good acts playing
every night at different venues in town, and I think I haven't had
this much fun since sandlot ball. My friend Robbie played sandlot ball
when he was younger while I played in a proper league across town in
Decatur. I kind of hated playing in Robbie's league because they
planned a sandlot league. You actually had to pay to play as well.
That' s absurd only because the whole idea of sandlot baseball is
grassroots and underground. You have to call it rec ball, not sandlot.
Sandlot ball is avant garde, backyard, magic. Plus, in Robbie's
league, they didn't keep score. Unforgiveable.

Movement on the Home Front. Literally and Figuratively.

I moved into a new house a couple weeks ago. For this I am pleased. My
new house carries tons of internal and external character. It's orange
on the inside and out, which is unique and brightens the place up.
I've seen several characters mounting these small motorcycles and
riding them through the neighborhood..the strange thing is they're
like dune buggies, but set in a completely new urban environment. In
fact, yesterday, I saw some kids riding these very motorcycles on the
track outside of our house. There's nothing more frustrating than
getting circled while running around a track in 100 degrees. It's
close to being without water for one week and then trying to find your
way into a caged water park. These kids that surrounded me on their
bikes like a tyke gang asked me how many laps i'd been running: this
was extremely important to them. Their inquiring excited my memory,
and I remembered that this is MOST important to an 11 year old. The
MOST important question to an 11 year old boy, or at least to me when
I was eleven, is " how many?" "how much?"....they simply have no time
for people that cannot achieve physical excellence at insane rates.
This boy really cared about how many laps I had ran and the amount of
time that I had been there, because he'd asked the latter question
first. Astounding. Oh..11..where have you gone?

I am about to go into the studio to work on my third release. I cannot
express how excited this makes me. I really feel as if it's my 2nd 1/2
release because ADVANCEMENT only has 7 songs...in the modern age, it's
hard to classify that as purely "a record"... as a matter of fact, I
called it an EP to settle the scores. I'm happy about this particular
record because it's looking much more celebratory in it's own way.
With ADVANCEMENT, it felt just like that in many senses. It felt like
a move forward and that's all. Completely necessary, but more mental
than spiritual in approach and kind of all over the place. I'm working
with a similiar team that contributed to ADVANCEMENT. I've also
co-written tons for it. Don't worry, there are no 'featuring' slots on
it. No Akon or Pastor Troy..anything like that Although...that would serve it in a way...negative or positive, I
cannot say . When I co-write, I leave it there. It's also communal,
this effort, with the co-writes and short story book. There's a label
thats putting it out as well. Rebuilt Records out of Athens, GA. Jason
Harwell runs it, and I think he's the personification of directed,
convicting, underground music...with his principles and all. Stay
tuned.

Fare Thee Well Hard Drive

As far as anyone can tell...my hard drive died last night after 3 years
of hard work in my mac G4 power book. Bad news is, I didn't back up
some important documents that most definitely need some backing up. So,
I called a friend who has the power with all things computer and he
said my last hope was to freeze the drive (literally) to retrieve all
of the needed data..this was astounding to me. Anyways, my friend Jason
saw how much this was affecting my health as I was pacing back and
forth and trying to put together a rescue plan for data retrieval. So
he took it, and he'll mess with it...he might freeze it....for now, no
laptop.Just using whatever I can find. The POINT: Losing something like
a laptop makes me realize the unbelievable amount of time I spend
investing into machines. My friend Sarah and I were talking the other
night about this problem. She told me that it's almost like a part of
us (our humanity) has already become so dependent on technology that
it's like we're clones... an extension of ourselves. It's very unusual
how people,relationships, and connections become so disposable. This is
so, obviously, for an array of reasons, but I'm saying technology
proves as a very solid barrier for true,organic human interaction. It
provides tons of resources and connections that would otherwise be
unattainable. But it seems to de-humainze a whole lot. I could explain
why, but it's sort of ambiguous to me...I mean it's in the early stages
of my own processing. There's also the question of how it's
(technology) used...whether it's as an aid or abandaid. Simply questioning, that's all.

Last
week, I went to a local farmers gathering where folks were invited for
$10 to eat locally raised and grown pork, beer,biscuits and collard
greens.I can't recall the name of the group that put it together, but
visit my chum Cameron's blog..it's to your right...he invited me to
this event and I owe him $10 for getting me in. The place was vibrant
with conversation, laughter, and farm people. You could tell the
farmer's children had an element of non restraint that was completely
attractive. They had land... they grew and raised food...from means to
end....from seed to plant. The farmer's seemed to maintain a
nonchalant, open disposition that was unlike the city or suburbia folk I'm accustomed to. One farmer even offered me a job on his farm after catching a glimpse of the VESPA t-shirt I had on. He told me I could ride 1 of the 2 engine-less VESPAs he owned on his farm. Part of me wanted to take him up on it. These seemed like a peculiar people who had survived some of the violence of technology. I'm sure they may have computers and/or TVs
, microwaves, fax machines. But these people seemed to understand
process, sun, earth, and what not. There's an inherent connection
there. It inspired me in a roundabout way. God bless the farmers.

Taxi Wars III: Return of the Angst

Today we’re traveling on mainly back roads to get to our final destination of Sheperdstown, WV. Last night we stayed in Bradford, PA..I can only assume that it is here where they make the Zippo lighters or at least this is where you can find the main headquarters. We saw an orange neon flame flashing above the lighter sign fixed in the center of the building, which was also neon…stationed on brick. Next to the sign read “Zippo” (also neon)….as inconsequential as this may seem, we live for famous sites in no name cities. There’s a not loads of sights to look forward to in small American towns other than City Hall…maybe. Today we’re late for an afternoon show, because we did not realize that this show happens in the afternoon.

Two high class stories from NYC this past weekend:
Numero one: Saturday night we ( me, Jason, Brett) made our way to Gramercy to see some friends play at the arts center/theatre there. After the show, we went out with friends (Jon & Amy and Bob)…the night was completely lighthearted along with our late, 2 in the morning, dinner conversation. Over our deli sandwiches, Jason and I described the bizarre subcultures that we’ve dived into on the road. We spoke of quirky hotel clerks who made sure checking in was never easy to do …so on and so on. Our friends shared their similar, hilarious tales as well. Everyone was laughing and before we knew it the clock ticked on past 2AM. Little did we know that our stories had nothing on the story that was to follow. The subways take a very long time on the weekend, so we decided to get a cab back to Brooklyn where we were staying for the night. We waved down a cab. But 2 cabs tried to get our gig and then decided to yell at each other. For a second we stood and watched thinking that these were reasonable human beings and that the cursing and yelling would naturally stop because we, the clientele, we’re waiting on the side of the road. Instead they got out of the car and decided it’d be best to just duke it on out. Nothing a good ol’ fistfight can’t handle eh? At this point, Jason took on Good Samaritan role and decided to try to break up the fight. After one guy was hit the face, a rear view mirror kicked in, and Jason’s chocolate cake smashed in (that he had bought from the deli)..not to mention some pretty daggum creative obscenities…the drama subsided…or so we thought.

We get in the cab with the guy who really deserved to take us to Brooklyn after a couple laughs and deep breathes. Then, our now archenemy pulls beside us and still hasn’t had enough. He is like Iron Mike and nothing will stop this crazed taxi driver. So, naturally, they decide not to fist fight…no that’s be too easy for a red light altercation. Instead, they find it fitting to start ramming their vehicles into each other while we, AGAIN the clientele, hold our position in the back wondering how to respond. Is there even an adequate response to something like this? We’re bouncing around in the back seat essentially having been in a real life accident…..where people normally stop, get out, and call insurance agencies, and all I can say is “hey man”! I’m still in the process of convincing myself and everyone around me that this actually really did happened. The bizarre thing remains: we still stayed in the cab and paid the driver when we arrived all vexed up in Brooklyn. The experience was worth at least $100 but we paid $20. The End.

Number 2:
The next night a couple homeless friends needed some food to eat, so went to a cheap, middle eastern street diner down the street…located in the lower east village. We chatted it up and as I went up to the counter to pay…I began to notice how bizarre a look I was receiving from one the two homeless dudes I was with. I set their food down, asked them where they were from, and then they asked me their question: “ Hey man, are you homeless too?” I laughed and said no, but either way it truly was another priceless moment, and I hope those guys were able to get past all the cold hearts and weather in NYC.

As For My Opinion of Motel 8's..

Morning. I’m situated in the driver’s seat of the tour bus or black exterra…depends on perception I say. Last night we played Waynesburg College and got tons of free cranberry juice. Then we’d ask for more, They kept giving it too…it was fantastic.
Jason Harwell joined up with yesterday to open some shows. He was the showman last night dipping between jovial tunes and the backhanded existential ones. Jason is a visionary and really funny, so I like talking to him. We never get caught in the inconsequential junk. If there comes a time where we do..we decided to stop talking. At least this is how I see it. He has a new EP that just dropped. I had the honorable duty of co-producing it with the resilient James Gregory. It’s called “Broken Headphones”…please check it out at www.jasonharwell.com…it’s that rich, rich indie folk. Motel 8’s aren’t at all so bad either. We stayed there last night, and they even had wireless Internet. I only mention this because I’m mostly sure I’ve heard someone beef on the Motel 8. No need. You can stop because it’s fine.

I haven’t started to miss home yet, but if you’re reading this I probably miss you. Grant Park was meant for the Summer. We have a porch that we’ve designated for what the laymen call “ the summer hang”….a place meant only for those who dwell and brood. You cannot dwell and brood all of the time here; in fact, I will say that it’s only appropriate for one person to brood or dwell per night. That way, the rest of us must counsel and listen. Or everyone is simply in a good mood, and the mentioned info has no relevance. I’ve got loads of love for porches. Looking forward to the transfer of highway to porch. For now, I play, sing, and make friends. Which ain’t so bad either. I’ve got half of a recorded recorded too. New news. Blessings.

MD

Jesus in the Cracks.

So, this week I'm situated in a small town in Florida that I can't quite pronounce the name of. I know it starts with an O. My pal Chesley is down here with me and we're calling it detox from the road or normal life. I mean this in the most glorious and non glorious of terms. We're staying in a cabin with other families (including children) all in the name of Jesus for a Young Life camping event held at South Wind Camp. There are middle school aged kids here. It's non glorious in the ways that come along with trying to relate to an age group of folks that you're not accustomed to. I'm here to play my songs and to lead what young life calls "club songs"....basically I lead the pep-rallying crew in pop anthems and campfire ballads alike. And it's like medicine. The "least of these" come clearly defined around here. The insecure, developing, worried. Everyone comes together in the details...to put these kids first...so they can somehow fall in love with Jesus like we did some time ago...and when you're part of a vocation that requires a dangerous introspection that more times than not leads to self-absorption...it saves me to get to places like this. To see people love until it hurts. To become a friend to the friendless. To treat loving with the same vigor and discipline as a world class athlete or CEO. It's just important to me...to get out of the bitter, cynical, competitive plow of an indie musician and remember to do what I can to love Jesus and people in all the simplest but profound ways. It's very important. It's the point I'd say. I'm the same as the kids. Jesus grins and weeps with me as I develop and slip. He does you like that too I think.

A Big Problem

This is a simple post just to create an awareness for those of you who are in the dark about this. Any commentary I would give, unfortunately, might prove insufficient and ignorant. I know this is a problem. It's worth dialogue and action.

Did you know that 2.5 million people have been driven from their homes in Darfur, Sudan? Each day, they face threats that are hard for us to even imagine including rape, disease, and starvation.

These people need our help to put an end to the genocide and they need it NOW.

Please join me in taking the first step to stopping the violence.

Click here to sign the Save Darfur Coalition's petition urging President Bush and UN Secretary-General Ban to take immediate steps to stop the killing.

Together, we can make a difference in the lives of millions of people in the region who desperately need outside help.

The Save Darfur Coalition is urging the international community to prevent further killings, displacement, and rape by deploying the UN peacekeeping force that has already been authorized, strengthen the understaffed African Union force that is already in Darfur, establish a no-fly zone, increase humanitarian aid, and ensure access for delivery of food, medication and other essential supplies.

Please do not stand by while the violence continues - you can make a difference. Click here now to get involved.

Then please forward this message to your friends and family and ask them to join you.

If you'd like to make a donation to support the campaign, click here now. www.savedarfur.com

Thanks for your help.

I Am A Winner...

There is no theme to this blog; however, I am a winner. I flew in from Minnesota last night. Dan picked me up, and they lost my instrument. Air Tran lost my instrument. Then the woman who was in charge of lost baggage claims got extra angry at me because I lost my airline ticket with the baggage claim number on it.....this was only confusing for several reasons but only one worth mentioning. I am the customer and the customer is always right. Whether I come in with 3 heads, a golden ticket, or no baggage claim ticket....I am not the one who lost my instrument. Air Tran did....collectively. I was steaming until I saw the gentleman who had helped me before...who had, before, seemed mostly indifferent and tired...he found my instrument, and all was well with the world again.

I do have some interesting news. So when we recorded Advancement (the last EP I put out)...my extremely talented friend and vocal mentor Jason Eskridge was given vocal production responsibilities (side note: I did not give him due credit in the liner notes, and I'm ashamed). We had decided to put a "choir" on most of the tracks or, rather, to stack a bunch of vocals on top of each other. Anyways, he calls me and says " Check it. I'm going to call my homegirl Melinda to double these tracks with me." He may have said it like that...not sure...that's the way I'll re-create it though. So he called this Melinda. I came in to Jason's character-ridden basement studio and heard her do her thing. She sang for real. She put sensibilities on my tape that I didn't deserve. I should have asked her for a receipt. So, the session ended. Advancement was sent through post production with 7 months of elbow grease, and I didn't see much of anybody from those sessions...including Melinda. Fast forward. 3 days ago Jason calls me to check in. We rap. He says " Have you seen this season's American Idol?"....I say "no, why?"....(note: I don't watch much TV, but I really dig in when I do. Like the little boy who never had candy...when he got it....he knew how to enjoy)...He says " Melinda is on this season, and she is killing it".....Melinda Doolittle...couldn't believe it. Hopefully, this is all I'll say about knowing her...but probably not. If I hear anyone remotely even mention American Idol....it's going to take loads for me not to say "hey, how bout Melinda Doolittle? yeah....it's crazy...she uhh sang on my last record...he..wild eh?"...
Right on Melinda. I knew you when. If you do, in fact, watch American Idol...cast your votes for Melinda....I haven't seen the show yet, but surely...she's the best.

I made a small step yesterday....I bought Pearl Jam's greatest hits...and I bought nice slacks from the Gap (smaller step than the preceding)...anyhow..that's what's on the minds in the A.M....

M.C.D.

Home. Road. Rhythm.

I've been home maybe a grand total of 4 days since the day after Christmas Day. Seriously though...5. I think. I've been home for 3 1/2 full days now, and I'm uncomfortable. The strangest dynamic in traveling and playing tunes for a living is the ability to fall in and of a rhythm. For a while, I'd composed the home living rhythm. I'd even call it a sort of routine. Both good and bad gigs poured in, so I left home and played them. So then my rhythm got lost. Like Crazy Horse...I mishandled my rhythm. But my road rhythm began to develop. Here...too..you could say I'd developed a routine. I have time off now, and I'm more frantic than everyone else. I'm so excited to see everybody that I haven't seen in quite sometime, and I'm mostly confident that it's bothersome. Genuinely strange to most. Well it's downright intense. When you see familiar faces against the backdrop of ticking watch. You think: MAXIMIZE. You over-commit. You disappoint. Then, you get back on the road. You think to yourself, "Micah, you should ensure for yourself a wife or a full time band...or develop a strong sense for real estate development". All my friends either think I want more from them than they can give...or they wonder why I just won't sit and rest. People excite me more than rest for now. Especially people that I see less than 10 times a year that are fantastic human beings. Folks that have inherent rhythm. This all sounds dramatic, and it most likely is, but it's disorienting. Fast food relationships. Good news: I watched "Of Mice and Men" yesterday, slept through half of it, and still almost lost it at the end...I got myself a library card, and tomorrow I'm going to develop some photos. I haven't bought groceries since May so I see no reason to start now. But I did buy milk and Honey Bunches of Oats with my CVS card earlier in the week. I think to myself: I'm off a good portion of the month..I can hear the crackle of the snare coupled with the ol' bass drum in the distance. Feels like rhythm.

This live footage of the tune "Jet Lag" is courtesy of FilmMeFirstFilms out of Atlanta.

Check it Out.

Click on the question mark.

Carolinian Times

I don't know much of the title of this blog. Seems like a newspaper name, but not sure. Anyways, I'm playing a handful of times this weekend throughout the Carolinas. Thanks to all the people who came out to the Charlotte show. Three things happened the day of the Charlotte show that were disheartening to say the least: 1) I was pulled over by a policeman for "following too closely"...he asked me to step out of the car....he asked me if I had a slew of drugs on me...to which i cordially responded no...then he aksed me if I had over $10,000 US currency in my vehicle...I said that I wish I did...he kind of laughed and then got serious again really fast...and the words that followed as the bookend to our bizarre dialogue were astonishing. He grilled me on the whole weapons front..ie...any firearms, etc....then he asked me if I had a SWORD. Again, I laughed. This man was inadvertently putting me in extremely high spirits. Ryan and I then felt a rhythm. We saw a bunch of other black people pulled over, and we concluded that they were looking for the real life version of Blade's Wesley Snipes. I can only guess that they need his specialty skills in terms of dealing with vampire carolinians. 2) I broke a string on the first song of my set the other night: Blame it On January. I feel cool sometimes when I play that song....probably more so than the majority of the other ones. Therefore, I the embarassment was maximized. Then I changed the string and broke it again when I was trying to tune it. I feel like I'm always having to play off technical difficulties...then I turn into some sort of circus clown trying to maintain until everything gets under control. 3) Someone told me my yellow argile sweater was "awful"....I didn't care too much, I knew it was a risk...but awful? How so? How sure can you be that somethng is truely awful? Mad respect to the fashion poilce in full effect.
If you're from Atlanta, and you're reading this, I'm playing Monday night supporting Ryan Horne and Jon Black...at the Red Light Cafe.. 7:00...$5...I'm performing all new material with a sensible band, and it's going to slam. Please, do come.
MD

The Essential Mathew Linton

Good morning.
I've decided to give you a first hand look into a dialogue had between my friend Mathew Linton and me. Mathew played drums on some of my new material we recorded at Smoakstack Studios in the Berryhill district of Nashville. He might be the funniest person I know. In fact, I think he is. This is an "interview" I threw his way in the kitchen of the studio. Now, understand...this video might not get you the way it got me. It's just a preference thing. Anyways, happy president's day. I'm more than thrilled that I've landed home for a couple days. No snow. No problem.

Upstate New York Apocolypse

Today...I'm in a cozy hotel room after speaking with a kind, talkative receptionist. She put cookies out for me..so she says. So, I decided to scratch the myspace blogging due to my close friend and roomie josh cook. Josh takes blogging seriously. Visit his site at joshcooksucks.com. I am a huge proponent of creative travel. If you ever wonder how indie artists get to gigs...so do i....all of the time. I played at a school called SUNY-Geneseo last night. I flew in...was picked up at the airport...brought to the hotel....picked up again...brought to the venue....driven to dinner...taken back to hotel. This morning I had to figure out how to get to Alfred, NY. I only wanted to pay for the rental car for one day so I was dropped back off at the Rodchester airport in the early afternoon...so I could get back closer to my fight time tomorrow. I made some calls, bought the new Rolling Stone (for junk food reading purposes...purely), and read in the lobby-car rental space and then rented my green pontiac sudan. Started driving. Then the snowing ensued. I've arrived now for the show tonight at SUNY-Alfred. It's overload though...the only way the overload can ever cease to exist (here in my situation) is when grossly cold weather stops AND I learn the art of the airport hang. That's right...the airport hang. First of all, I have to LOVE, LOVE, LOVE hanging out at the airport. Second, you have to find those middle chairs in the terminal where you're not directly next to another human. Third, you have to enjoy...wait ..no ...have a serious dedication to a) listening to music b) reading c) starting conversations with complete strangers or d) ascribing to the Tom Hanks "Terminal" thing...where you fall in love with a beautiful stewardist if only for a short time and then leave. I don't think that lovin' was a two way street though...between him and the woman. But Tom had time and he was an endearing foreigner. I do not fit in with Tom here. So I have hours to burn at the airport tomorrow...from about 3-6 PM. Then I have a layover in Cleveland, Ohio. It's worth it though. Genuine connections through a mysterious medium. Worth it. There's tons of men and women who have to work their lives away to stay afloat...for a burger...or a t-shirt for their little boy or something...and I have time to blog.