Recently in Explicitly Mystic Category

Although i could have cried for joy.

No broken bones.
No heatstroke. In fact the weather was perfect.
A memorable evening at the TR3 DMB Pre-Party at the Jefferson Theatre.
Two stress-free drives filled with new music and beautiful scenery.
The hotel had good coffee.
And half and half.
And the shows.
Wow. The shows.
I got Halloween.

There may have been a bit more to the story. Carry on, carry on.

Okay, a lot more to the story.

In fact there may have been two stories.

No crying in either.

In other news, I'm having the second surgery on my hand next week. The plate and screws are coming out, which I am happy about. I don't know if they contain enough metal to set off a metal detector, and fortunately I won't have to find out.

The doctor will also be fixing my trigger finger, and eliminating some of the scar tissue from the first surgery.

All I want for Christmas is to be able to put my palm flat on a table.

Combined, the three things on deck next week, plus another round of me doing everything I'm told, as many times as I'm told, for as long as I'm told, should get me my Christmas wish.

Over the course of 26 hours, I drove 1000 miles. By myself. Tried and failed multiple times to give away a free concert ticket. Lost the cover to my Blackberry. Got heatstroke. Ice melting all over me made it look like I wet my pants as I walked around. Had my camera snatched off my arm in the crowd.

Met Jeff Coffin.

The scales balance.

As they should.

I saw the coolest ad today. (Was for Blackberry).

Like is watered-down love.
Like is mediocre.
Like is the wishy-washy emotion of the content.
Athletes don't do it for the like of a sport.
Artists don't suffer for the like of art.
There is no I like NY T-shirt.
And Romeo didn't just like Juliet.

LOVE. Now that's powerful stuff.
Love changes things.
Upsets things.
Conquers things.
Love is at the root of everything good that has ever happened and will ever happen.

Occam’s Razor: The simplest explanation for a phenomenon is most likely the correct explanation.

I was conceived the day Dave Matthews was born. When the angels assigned to him safely delivered him to earth, and went back up for their next assignment – me – they still had some Dave on their hands.

Rather than change it they simply ordained it to remain latent in me, psychologically and pathologically, for thirty years.

Words, I need to have some words with you
You words are just not coming out
In a manner I am accustomed to.
I’ll have to ask you to explain yourselves.
But please don’t change, words.
Don’t change the words. I’m in no distress.
Your vocabulary, words: a curious mistress.
Whose words flow up not down.
It’s a wordfall, words wash over me.
With a complete disregard for the laws of gravity.
I know there are more behind them, words
And I’m finding that I can’t wait to hear them, words.
A start, perhaps, when the first drop hits
But after that it’s like a kiss
That you just settle into.
Unsettling, not, words, I made that clear then.
Make the deep end deeper.
Heart over head.
I’ll dive in.

Living in rhymes and laughing out loud
A face in my dreams that's a face in the crowd
Far too dramatic
I'll take it
Under advisement.
Overtly redundant I know
Blatantly obvious, and clearly, not at all called for.
Unconditionally embedded and plain to see
Hitherto unsolved, up in the air so to speak
Consistently lacking punctuation plainly magic.