2004-06-05

I'M FINALLY HOME! AND THE ALBUM IS DONE!

I'm finally back in the San Francisco area after nine and a half months of traveling. And, I have VERY GOOD NEWS. My new album "Thirteen Songs About Love" is done! The CDs arrived a few weeks ago, and I have started shipping them out. If you haven't ordered it yet, now is the time! Also, there is a limited supply of signed, numbered CDs for sale on my web site. Click here to get one. I've also set my site up so that you can buy MP3 downloads of songs from the album for only $0.99 each!

My US Tour is complete—I am officially back (for now)! So, thank you to all the wonderful people who have let me into their lives during the last nine and a half months!

If you believe in what I am doing and want to help support me, please do so! Check out my web site or email me for more information!

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US Tour Day 265: When is it over?

There's a peace lingering in the air above Tucson. Or, maybe it's the lack of humidity that makes the atmosphere seem so embracing—even in spite of the 103�F heat. The air feels still, even when there is a breeze. Sounds from cars or air conditioners or my own breath seem so much more naked and stark, perhaps without any molecules of water to absorb or reflect their sound energy.

I'm looking. Cars rush around, air conditioned humans inside of each one. There goes another one now. And another. A silver car. A red truck. A white one. All the shops are open and I see the tanned, hispanic faces of Arizonans inside the buildings—buying, selling, talking, eating ice cream, never noticing the way the sound of their wallet or their ice cream cones continues to infinity in this magical desert.

I'm listening. A machine does its thing in the background. I can't tell if it's an air conditioner or the purring of the aguas frescas machine—lovingly tumbling future mouthfuls of horchata and jamaica and pina over and over until the sweet, refreshing water–bearing droplets will be dispensed into the mouths of babes, only to be evaporated out through their hazel skin into the atmosphere, and then never to be seen again in these parts.

I'm wondering. How long until I come home? I've tossed a few temporal waypoints in my own path—an upcoming Ministry of Unknown Science performance in Los Angeles, my own performance in San Jose, and six weeks of employment at a summer camp near Occidental. When I reach one of these have I then achieved the state of being 'home'?

Or, is it the moment when the last piece of my physical belongings is removed from my storage space that I have returned home? Or, was it yesterday, when I walked into Mexican Fast Food in Tucson and ordered a familiar carnitas quesadilla—a comfort I've longed for many more times than I've longed for my old bed; more times than I've longed for my friends or a mailing address I can expect to receive packages at; even many more times than I've longed for a space I can call my own.


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