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Kitana reminds me that today (yesterday is still today because I haven't gone to bed yet) is the one-year anniversary of our Last Tour Show in Walling-ford. I may weep, I really may.

I just watched Almost Famous and I really loved it. I just did. It struck chords in me. The fandom thing. The glamour of Tour Life versus Real Life. I love Philip Seymour Hoffman. I love Frances McDormand. That Patrick Fugit boy was adorable. I even liked Kate Hudson a lot. Kate Hudson, the Golden Girl. I think this may be somehow hormonal, but then, I think that liking anything is all a matter of having the right hormones in the right bloodstream at the right time. That's all "striking a chord" means. That's why sometimes Michael Penn's "Bunker Hill" makes me cry and sometimes Rowlf and Sam the Eagle singing "Tit Willow" does.

And The Tour was a year ago. Officially over a year ago. Although it never quite ended. It feels like it's sort of going on forever, only the ripples are getting bigger. They're just at the edges of the Tavie Pond now and going out to sea. (Let me have my metaphors, you fittas!) The ripples are still there. That's why Linn lives in Mint Manor and sometimes I do, too, and we make trips to Toronto to see Kitana and why cheese fries and cigarette lighters and spiralling shapes and noisemakers and people with their feet in buckets make us all laugh.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:57 AM | shower me with attention