COMING, LIKE CHRISTMAS

Every day this last couple of weeks has included many of the same issues. Insomnia is one of the worst. If you can’t sleep, I’m not going to be able to help you. (I know quite a few people who, through stress or whatever, have thought it largely impossible to get shuteye these days. Perhaps the Mayor’s office started putting No-Doz in the water supply so we hardworking New Yorkers can make up the budget shortfall quicker.) As it happens now, I go to the day gig, come home, pass out for a couple of hours, wake up around 11:00 pm or so, write until 4 or 5, then go back to sleep until the alarm drags my ass up for another lap.

It’s no way to live, but I don’t have an immediate solution, past just toughing it out (the worst part of chemicals, holistic or not, is that they work; I take half a sleeping pill and I’m out for days).

Still, life isn’t bad. I wrote this pretty song called "Every Late Night Hotel Desk In Paris Must Know Her Name By Now," which has a little falsetto part in it and everything.

Lots and lots of new songs. I might have to start playing gigs again, just to share them.

And I promise to be my usual perkily caustic assholy self very soon.