"October's poplars are flaming torches, lighting the way to winter." - Nova Bair

It's the end of the day, an expansive twilight.

News:

Bo and I are playing a show on December 14th (a Friday) at the Coffee Fixx Bar in Chicago (Sheffield Ave., right by Belmont's Red Line stop). It's very easy to find, and a great place to sit and drink and watch a straight-as-tassel snowfall. So, come enjoy a night in the lit-up city. It is free.

I feel relevant again musically. We are going to go through the hours of songs we've recorded, to edit out all the mistakes (except the interesting ones). I feel like an artist, showing her work. A painter. "Come and let these songs breathe in air shared by others." And then buy them.

I feel like my novel (which I am nearly done editing) will be spectacular. And a failure. I hate parts of it, and parts of it make me glad I chose to be a writer. A mess of interesting mistakes...

I have little room for things at the end of the day. Sometimes, being around people makes me hurt and very, very depressed. I'm not introverted all the time, but when I am, I get meepy and small. (I can share these times with my lovely wife, however. She's the same.)

I feel like I'm in 1964 right now.

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