Hello everyone,

It's been way too long, I know, I know. I've been hibernating in this summer heat, writing new songs, preparing for the next batch of shows, and settling into a new stage of life. I turned 27 last June, and I don't know what it is about entering my "late" 20's, but the landscape of my entire life feels "shifted," and I couldn't be more excited. She's all growed up, folks. :) New songs are emerging. We should be back in the studio in December, and you know, I can't WAIT for you to hear it all.

Hugs for days. See you on the road!

Life is full of surprises
like watching Ani Difranco
blow out birthday candles
now, at the age of 36
on our dinner break
backstage at the Orpheum theater in LA
like the fact that this legend
in her own right
with her righteousness
sits with another human life
inside of her
carrying the brilliance
that resides deep in her mind
in her life
in the way she chose to play it out
this lifetime


and i'm all a stutter
with two 5 dollar bills
to my name
folded up in my pocket
in the basement of the Orpheum
choosing from
a catered menu of vegan pad thai
and stuffed chicken


and i'm all a flutter
to sit and talk to my 15 year old inspiration
manifested in such a small female frame
with her big voice
pink heart exposed
and her belly full
with so much more to learn


tonight was godsent
the top dream on my top list
crossed off with angel dust
and "i cannot believe this"
but it did,
happen, that is
and i hit notes high on a stage
built in 1926
rumored to be haunted
one of 17 in this one
abandoned LA district


and if there is a ghost
wafting above the cheap seats
somewhere deep, deep in the mezzanine
well, i left behind my 12 year old heart
to keep you company
and she'll play guitar for you nightly
and she'll leap free off the balcony
crowd surfing into a world
that felt a lot like home
reunited with an old soul
that tucked me in late at night
even though she didn't know
wiping the tears off
an oily kid face
saying, brace, brace, brace
yourself, kid
you've got a big life ahead


it's an understatement to say i'm blessed
to watch Ani blow candles out on her birthday
to watch her applaud
for me
for the voice that filled 2243 seats


and now i am farther from full
than i have ever been
my life
made up of surprises
of 10 dollar names
and legendary applauding prizes
i am all a go
to move like i was meant to
with Buddy love curled up
pocket-size
next to two folded bills
and a night now chrystalized

black dog
don't come around here no more
i've had enough
of losing

blue sky
don't come around here no more
i can't trust
you won't keep falling

angel
promise me
you'll stay close
by my side
cuz i don't know
if i can go on
no, i don't know
if i can go on

desert sand
don't come around here no more
i've had enough
of stumbling

desert sun
don't come around here no more
i've had enough
of burning

angel
promise me
you'll stay close
by my side
cuz i don't know
if i can go on
no, i don't know
if i can go on

with such a piece of me
missing now

brother, sister
you are so far from me
and all my new friends now
are blinded by their bravery

yeah, i don't know
if i can go on
no, i don't know
if i can go on

black dog
don't come around here no more
i've had enough
of losing

barricades in the desert
barricades in the sea
we turn to fire to speak

i have turned my thoughts into tiny shovels.
the kind you find in stephen king novels.
metal handle, wood splintered shaft, metal to metal
concaved to carry the dirt of each heavy memory and expel for good.
we're not rearranging deck chairs on the titanic anymore,
this is permanent stuff.
spring cleaning just before summer sunburns.
kt tunstall's "heal over" soundtracks the work it takes to create a clearing.
a big flat land of new.
top soiled and all.
and here, standing on this plain of good news.
of soon-to-be green grass, nature lush and ripe.
i stand, with the bluest sky as my cleanest slate,
i stand.
molecule against molecule, atom to atom,
i stand.
one with you,
i stand.

the railroad

i want out like heaven's only a plane ride away
nothing compares to the minutes that move
so slow on this day
i guess it's me
and the way i put myself
up against everything
that passes me
by
the
way
i
still haven't found the love
i believe in, no.

each and every time
you try to pull me close
i twist your whiskers
roll myself up in rope
and show you to the railroad
i show you to the railroad
come along, come along

i was born with the world
twelve steps ahead
waiting for me to quiet my troubles
and just listen
six billion stories
hidden in the rain
and i think
when it stops
our sweet, sweet hearts
with turn in figure eights

each and every time
you try to pull me close
i twist your whiskers
roll myself up in rope
and show you to the railroad
i show you to the railroad
come along, come along.

i want out like angels
singing behind iron doors
nothing compares to the minutes
stuck inside one lifetime more
i guess it's me
looking for the light
in this new April morn
so slow to change my eyes
so slow.

i'm caught. between a peanut and an elephant.

"how do you eat an elephant?"

"one bite at a time."

a very wise woman once told me that.
mocha in her left hand, lit cigarette in her right.
too simple to forget.

silver spring, md

home.

today is earth day. everyday should be earth day, but today is earth day, officially. a let's get together and figure out better ways to change our carelessness day. everyday should be earth day, don't you think? what we could accomplish if we all got together more often.
i've been on a driving strike lately. not only for the emissions but also for the oil. i cannot support it anymore. i'm still trying to find the eloquence to convey my fury. until then, no driving. complacency kills.
we need more earth days. human days. we need more human days. i just want action. more action. more earth days.
april 30th, 2006, there will be a rally on the national mall in D.C. to save Darfur. FOR MORE INFO.
i will be getting off a train at Union Station, D.C. that afternoon... who's spending the day with me?

you don't know yourself until you know yourself through a 6,000 dollar microphone. every little breath and swallow documented. every little hesitation, insecurity. so i guess everything else, every other sonic form is somewhat of a filter. somewhat of a meshy substance thrown over the raw to contain, contain, contain. and yet, you get used to it. the 6k mic, that is. you get used it. you start to adapt to every breath and swallow and realize you're lucky. privileged. you place your voice inside that tube of small wire and spring to see what it can do, and you make the best of it. make it better than ever before even. you begin to understand the space. it begins to become a part of you. the mic, the clarity, the voice, all one. space. you begin to learn how to control it, quickly. efficiently. getting the point across in the space provided. the clear, crystal, ice water space. a musician friend of mine talks about making that space in front of many many faces staring back, letting them in, thinking they know. they don't though, do they? but they think they do. and they listen, some of them, and others talk, clank their frothy glass down on the wooden tabletop and interrupt the space. she can feel it, you know. they all are the small wire and spring, they all are the six thousand dollar microphone. they all are, but static is difficult to sing through. bar talk is difficult to sing over. create the space, create the space, you tell yourself, but that stillness, that comfort in knowing that you're safe is being interrupted, by "excuse me, miss, i'll have another, please?" and "bartender, 2 martini's dry, 3 olives each." the mic depreciates in value. wait, wait, wait. meshy substance thrown over the raw, you remember. safety. there is movement in your stillness, there is movement in your stillness, there is movement in your stillness.

oh my goodness, oh my goodness.

it's starting to get rowdy with excitement in my little noggin.

the national convention was a success! the dates are starting to fill up! it seems that i'll be spending some quality time back on my home coast! perhaps a permanent relocation? it truly is the greatest city in the world. truly, truly.

lullabyes are important. they're my chamomile. i have one now called "Even Though." meant to tuck in a slightly injured heart.

"...sleep so peaceful..." love, love.