"I'm gonna learn to play the pennywhistle. I don't care what you say."

-Michael Doss, my roommate, about 10 minutes ago.

For some reason, that struck me as being insanely humorous.

Wish you were here

These Asians look like they're having fun. I had a wild craving to go to Disneyland today. It was crazy.

iTunes Music Store card

You catts remember this gal? Yeah, well, she's back. And she's bringin' hell with her.

Dreams

I'm sitting here at my desk before Brit Lit, and I decided to fill you in on life. Thankful? You should be.

Anyway, I had a series of really crazy dreams last night. In one dream, I was on my way to A&M to play at a party for a black fraternity. Which is random. But on the way, my car broke down in Oklahoma(?) and I stopped at a little church to get help. Turns out they all knew me, and assumed I was doing a show for them that night. To make things even stranger, Blake and Steve Collins were both there. We spent a lot of time setting up sound equipment, and then I ended up not having time to play. It was a terribly frustrating dream.

And two nights ago, I dreamed that it was my birthday, and this girl I hardly know took me to Popeye's Chicken. Weird. Later the same night, I was somehow on a road trip to Las Vegas with my family.

Well, I've done a lot of reading and stuff this week ... Read Walt Whitman for American Lit. He's great. I wasn't crazy about his stuff before, but I really enjoyed Leaves of Grass.

In the next week, I've got two giant research-type papers due. Suuucks. So that's my agenda for the next seven days.

Friday night, I'm playing in College Station, at The Coffee Station on Harvey Road. 9 p.m. Tell your friends.

I'll leave you with some words from Whitman ...

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
but I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre yuor blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

I've been really intrigued lately by the stories of depression-era laborers - and especially by the story of Ragtown.

When workers came to build the Hoover Dam (as pictued above), they set up a city a few miles from the site. Ragtown was lost, however, when the dam gates closed and the reservior was flooded. The city, along with all it's memories and ghost stories, sits at the bottom of a deep lake. That's spooky to me, and I like it. I like the idea that all those secrets are covered with water.

For a good time call

THURSDAY NIGHT! (Diadeloso)

Seasons 3:1 Cafe - at 9 p.m.
in Baylor's North Village

Me and my guitar will be all up in ya face. Come out and bring your friends. You know you wannna.

More information ...

(Photo by Ryan Mock)

I'm gonna get you, sucka.

A big ol' mess of pictures at ThePhotoHat. Check 'em out.

The weekend

Here are my plans for the next few days. Tell your friends. For real.

Thursday, April 7th - 9 p.m.
Ridglea and Vine Wineroom
(on Camp Bowie, above LaMadeline)
Ft. Worth, TX
with Mark Philpot

Friday, April 8th - 8 p.m.
Borders Books & Coffee
(in Norman Center Court)
Norman, OK
with my bad self

and of course ...

Saturday, April 9th - 8 p.m.
Borders Books & Coffee
(HWY 30 and Hulen)
Ft. Worth, TX
with Marshall Hooper

And some other interesting news ... I have an appointment this afternoon to get a haircut. Yikes. It'll be maybe my second or third professional haircut ever. Let it be known - I am nervous.

"The fiend in his own shape is less hideous than when he rages in the breast of man."

-Nathaniel Hawthorne, Young Goodman Brown

Memories

Arley drew this picture about one year ago. Thanks, Arley.