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Iíve been traveling for 226 days! I'm back in Washington, DC after a quick trip to Sedona, Arizona with my mother. My new web site: is live and there are all sorts of things on sale there, including my new album! Go forth and buy stuff, including MP3 downloads of the new record!

Iím converting the diary entries and photos of my travels into a book. Iím still collecting content, too. So, Iím looking for nice, fun people who can put me up for a few nights, host me, and show me their unique flavor of America. Iím looking forward to learning about your world and writing about our times together! If you think it might be fun to host me for a day or two or three, email me.

Please make sure to include your address and phone number in your email.

I am especially looking for places to stay on the East Coast north of Virginia and in the Midwest between New England and Texas.

Please contact me ASAP if you want to hang out!

If you believe in what I am doing and want to help support me, please do so! Check out my web site or donate money to me using PayPal or with a credit card. Email me for more information!

US Tour Day 193: Quick Washington, DC Update

Last night, oh last night. Justine came over again to hang out with Ellie and me. The drinking started early at Ellie's. We planned to go out dancing, but I knew we wouldn't make it. We said we were going to go out dancing every night that week and never once actually did it.

After preloading on coconut rum and cola we moseyed to Tim Tate's place at the end of the hall to see about including him in our evening. Tim is a glass artist in DC and recently earned the Mayor's Art Award for his contribution to the area art scene. Far more interesting than his art is his hilarious, charming nature. His stories pulled laughter from places in us we weren't aware of. Like a giant magnet, he drew everyone in the room to him.

And he was full of stories. He told us about how he ordered a monkey from the back of Monster Magazine in his youth and how it arrived at his childhood home in a shoebox.

Justine and Tim.

Later he shared the story about this toy stuffed chicken that was stolen from his house at a housewarming party. He hadn't really noticed it was gone until a few days later he received a ransom note—the classic example with words cut out from magazines. With the note there were Polaroids of the chicken in dangerous situations—one for each day of the week the chicken had been missing. There was a picture of the chicken with a squirt gun pointed at its head; another snapshot showed the chicken trapped behind a fence.

As time went on, the chicken game only escalated. Months passed, and Tim got photos of the chicken all over the world—inside the White House, in Europe, posing with famous people, even underwater scuba diving. Our eyes teared up and our sides split open from the laughter as he showed us photo after photo and postcard after postcard, all tracking the chicken's exciting life. It's been almost four years now since the chicken was abducted. The problem is that it look like the chicken is having more fun than Tim is!

After hours of chatting and flirting and general silliness, we all said goodnight. I retired to Ellie's apartment, where I slipped out of my clothes and into the comforting embrace of an actual bed. [Original ending to the sentence: to climb her long, sweet tree and get myself tangled up in her branches.]