"I LIKE THE NETS BUT I'D RATHER HAVE SEX, SO I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF JERSEY"
So last night I finally ventured out into the new world for the first time since the trip and saw some friends' bands, which it felt like it's been weeks since I've done. It was good to see the Voyces in full effect (they've really worked hard on their set, their harmonies are lovely as always, and while Brian Wayne's pompousness on stage is a bit off-putting, they're still great singalongy fun, and long may they wave), but a real special treat was to see Jim Flynn go on afterward.

Jim's this gawky tall guy who sings these incredible smartassed songs that sound soulful in their goofy stupid way. He opened last night's set with I'm Not Sorry I Didn't Get All GQ'd For Your Party, and spent the rest of the (late) night getting wordier and more bitchy. It was lovely to watch. "Hey there belly button t-shirt baby I can see your belly button, yeah, you're trendy..."

He even let Sylvia Mann come on and finish his set for him. She's a bluegrassish singer who sings real fast, and she does one song, "Trashy Girl," that is a spot on character sketch.

After the show, we all went out to the Cherry Tavern and had a few beers. They tasted like sody pop after the stuff I drank in England, but at least they were cold. It's been a while since I actually went out with people from the scene in a non-performing situation and just shot the proverbial shit.

And then I actually let myself sleep in today. I won't exercise that privilege too often, I hope. I have a lot of stuff to do, a life to get on with. Today, I wrote two songs, both of which are pretty good and rock and rolly, too. It's been a good day, and tonight at the Fort I'll maybe even play one of them. (It's Pablo from Testosterone Kills' birthday tonight, don'tcha know.)

This feels a lot more like what being a songwriter is supposed to feel like. Now all I have to do is read a newspaper or something again. You know, get out and smell the now-leafless trees and stuff.