New York, I’m coming for you. Also, Maine.

It seems like the last couple of days have been relatively uneventful and since I consider this blog a tool to summarize events of the LLC and not just give my opinion on why I hate cats or love penguins I’m sticking to my guns. Today was the rainiest day of the tour. Luckily, we don’t have shows, I know that doesn’t sound right so maybe luckily is the wrong word, but we have a few days off so we’re in New York. While the singer-songrwriters of the group are staying at Rocker-Producer extordinare Adam Richman’s house, the rhythym section resides in Brooklyn. Jack is staying in another part of Brooklyn but its good to know that he’s on this side of the river. Anyways, today was an awful day for walking but I had the keys to the beast (our van) which after some investing is good to go with a new oil filter and transmission fluid. So basically I drove around with my buddy Paul and he showed me all the sites. I got to see some authentic off-track horse betting, Polish women which I couldn’t look at because of the strong presence of a mafia, a sort-of main street area which had an abundance of stores which sold diapers, jewlery, wigs, and delicous chitlings. I also got to see the Marcy Housing Project which is the home of rapper Jay-Z (whats up baby) and Notorious B.I.G (RIP). So I feel like I had quite an amazing day. All this without having to even get out of the comfort of our beautiful van. So basically its all about the van, its our home, its our life, we love you. I also hate cats but I won’t write about it, if anyone really wants to know my opinions about felines I’ll gladly discuss them, but the tour diary is a sacred blog and I plan on keeping it that way. Respect.

I am in a band that is at least 50% zombies.

We’re currently two shows in with the Routes, and I couldn’t be happier, but this picture still scares the living hell out of me. I pray for short sets, so I don’t have to turn my back on these two for more than a few minutes per day.

In a letter published in the LA Times today, journalist Brian Williams, inspired by Clooney’s “Good Night, Good Luck,” argues that our generation’s unprecedented ability to access incredible amounts of information incredibly quickly can have a surprising, negative effect: it can actually make us worse, rather than better, informed. Because we have such easy access to an absolutely ridiculous number of television channels, radio stations, newspapers, blogs, journals, magazines, etc., etc., we can limit our daily news to what we want our daily news to be. Take talk radio. “[It] removes the guesswork from the listening experience. Why not listen to someone who already agrees with you?” This is especially true when NOT doing so, say by watching the O’Reilly Factor, might produce a heart attack even in this skinny but awfully robust 23-year-old.

I’ve been thinking about one short paragraph all day:
“While we yearn for clarity and authenticity, we are awash in choices and distractions. Never before have there been so many tempting incentives not to pay attention to what’s important. We have created staggering, historic amounts of noise, all the while yearning for more substance. There’s never been more to watch — and yet the odds are slim that any two people in any given community are watching the same thing at any given time. These days our shared experience is the fact that none of us shares an experience with anyone else.”

Isn’t it strange that at a time when we could know more about the world than ever before, we can more easily opt not to? And isn’t it strange that in an era when it should be so easy for us to become better connected, we might actually be moving farther apart?

if there is any justice in the world, the yankees will get knocked out today and we can all get on with our lives.

that aside, speechwriters llc has successfully completed yet another marathon drive and are presently gearing up for our first show with the alternate routes in chicago. i love chicago and wish the white sox the best of luck and it must be said that il duque is a fuck-off amazing pitcher, but chicago needs to get its act together when it comes to as side of fruit with oatmeal. a side of fruit for oatmeal should be berries and such, not watermelon and chunks of orange. i don’t know how the hell that happened this morning, but hopefully, chicago, it was a fluke.

mark, if you happen to read this, you have saved the band hours of tedious boredom and we are eternally thankful in spite of the fact that castlevania 2 doesn’t work.

dave is tapping me on the shoulder, which is llc code for “get off the damn kinko’s internet work station.” dave in a rush is up probably the only contender against dave with a few drinks in him for the title of scariest incarnation of dave. he’s like a cornered mountain goat. it’s sublime and poetic to see in the flesh, but poke it with the stick of delay and you will reap the wrath of dave as a mountain goat. dear god i need some sleep.

respek.