Kyra and Tully meet Jay. . .

Late Friday afternoon, I finally coaxed Peja to come with me to Limestone Music to buy some brushes. When we got home, I added my new brushes (I know my parents bought me some back in '93, along with my snare and cymbal combo; but perhaps from lack of use, they've vanished along with some trig, a hook-shot, and some horse whispering) to the already stuffed backpack. I managed to squeeze a snare drum, a cymbal, two stands, a drum stool, bundles, maracas, an egg shaker, and now, some brushes into Sienna's old planting backpack.

There's this thing in some era of English lit, where people would do this thing called Cataloging, where you just list things, and the idea is that a really, really long list can become almost like poetry, and the story it tells can be so compact and artful. My list back there was not. Read some Swift, he knows what he's doing.

Get to the point, man. See, here's the thing, Peja's got a flu thing that's involved my getting puked on in the middle of the night. Which kind of gets in the way of my sleeping. Which leaves me all dopey and rambly. Evidenced here.

So, yeah, I went to Kyra and Tully's house, where I got to meet their son Kezyan, who's 3 1/2 and about 10 years ahead of the curve on learning the drums. Just try and throw him off time, it's not going to happen.

13 songs to learn. A really slow shuffle to master. Less cymbals. Less than that.

Quick preview -- the new Kyra and Tully songs are really great. I should send them an Email about that. In a jam, when I'm really busy trying not to fuck-up (sorry mom), it's awkward to fit that in.

The plan, as they see it, is to head into the studio in a couple of weeks, and lay down the songs 3 times, as if live (though from different rooms). . . So, I'd better pull up my damn socks.

Socks!

Get some sleep, little ones. The wolf awakes at dawn. He's thirsty.

Brushes, a pail, two cats, three dogs, a car, a dock, a leaky roof, a sinking deck, mushrooms, a bakers dozen, six midgets, 3 globetrotters, and my aunt Ruth.