This tourist town of shattered dreams and greasy BBQ got the best of me last night. I need a standing eight count and some smelling salts. I need something good to happen. I need to play a show for an audience with some zest and excitement. I need to play for more than 12 people. I have the mid tour doldrums. I've done so many load ins and load outs that sometimes it's all just a haze. Faces and places blend and blur. Fingers and hands ache and bags accumulate under eyeballs. Right now I have a heavy pair of Louis Vitton bags sagging and bringing down my eyelids. My vents are in need of a filter change. Life goes by in a blur and a whiz and I'm a whiz, kid. I've seen so many hotel rooms and graffiti scrawled backstage walls and hollow cheeks that I forget sometimes where I am. I need a shot in the arm. Just a booster shot. Either that or it's finally time for me to take about 8 months off. Sometimes when I get stuff off my chest things start to seem funny. I feel a smile cracking my frozen ice lips but it's a slow build. Ahhh who cares? We're nothing but gnats on the ass of a cow. Insignificant little creatures. Lovely little creatures blindly feeling our way through this crazy thing we call living. Darkened corridors leading us down to rooms and choices that can completely change our lives. A fork in the road? A spork in the yogurt. Nashville, Altman of the Robert variety and glitter and glam. Get some sleep and let your mind wander in restville land. Breathe deep and exhale the works of the fiery day. Be the ball. As they said in England during WWII, "keep calm and carry on."