Off The Interstate

We are so bombarded by gross consumerism that it’s sometimes difficult for people to take independent businesses with lower advertising budgets seriously but today as we drove through Auburn, MA I happily noticed some local business that are just as valid as the U-hauls, Walmarts, Pier 1 Imports and Best Buys that we can’t escape:

– ‘Olde Lamp Shop’ – Where it’s not just the shop that’s old but all the lamps too!

– ‘Safety Smart Gear’ – Specializing in reflective vests.

– ‘$5 Per Item’ – Junk sale with a 16 foot long flag that says OPEN!

1st ever video blog!!!

missing or corrupt \system32\hal.dll

Woke up this morning with enough ambition to dust off my old PC and see if I could recover some long lost WAV files. I’ve been itching to remix some of those ridiculous songs I recorded way back before I even went to school for music. Unfortunatly but not suprisingly I couldn’t even get the beast to boot properly:

A few hours of geek meditiation later I abondend the endover entierly and decided to just block out some jazz chords on my keyboard. Maybe I’ll try again next week. Computers have been known to malfunction in this humid wearther only to magically fix themselves a few days later.  After emerging from the murky relm of windows boot menus I wondered whether an artist should even bother busting open old works.  What could I possibly gain by remixing my teenage angst with my modern self?  I guess that’s what I was hoping to find out.

Olde Cape Cod

It’s weird to be back home on Cape Cod. I’ve grown to love the constant stimulation of traveling everyday. When I first hit the road full time, one of my more seasoned contemporaries told me that it takes a while to get into the groove of indie touring. How true! We’re going on our third year of perma-tour and every day feels better then the last. There’s no end in sight which means we’ve succeeded in what we originally set out to do: support ourselves on music alone. Every time we come back to our old stomping grounds in the Northeast it’s with a new perspective. Right now things are looking excellent. We’ve got loads of exciting shows coming up, enough gas money to get to ’em and a new album in the works. That should be enough fuel to keep my spirit burning through the harsh rain that is my annual Cape Cod family reunion.

Homeward Bound

Here we are in Atlanta, GA gearing up for the show tonight. Sometimes people seem so nice in Georgia that it makes me suspicious. Laurel keeps reminding me it’s just “Southern Charm” but oh how I long to hear “Aey f*ck you!” for going the speed limit. Something about being given the middle finger for obeying the rules just makes me feel at home.

The Real Miss Cleo

This past weekend I played a benefit concert at Mother Earth in Lake Worth, FL. The benefit was hosted by Miss Cleo herself. Long ago, in a galaxy far far away, I remember staring mesmerized at the late night infomercial where she would jovially exclaim “Call me na for ya free readin!'”

I used to imagine the glorious revelations Miss Cleo had in store for me “Oh meh dear! You goin to be da mos famous rock star ya are!” As I sat in Mother Earth years later, waiting for my performance to start, I thought to myself “That lady seems a lot like Miss Cleo.” I was thrilled when my suspicions were confirmed. We had a wonderful time after the show drinking rum, discussing mercury retrograde and what the future holds for us. People often ask if we meet a lot of interesting people on the road. Of course we do! We meet wild, beautiful people all the time, including THE Miss Cleo.

The Tempest

2“Oh, isn’t this funny” was our attitude when we first noticed that the parking lot was flooded.  After all, we weren’t in the middle where the water was deepest.  In fact, we found a nice island on which to park the scamp.  Little waves were crashing right outside our door in an area we called ‘The Shore’.   We put on our crocks and proceeded to wade through the tropically temperate, ankle deep water to the Barnes and Noble where we’d wait out the storm and get some quality internet time in.    A few hours passed and we realized that the storm was getting worse and wasn’t going to pass any time soon.  As we started the wade back to the camper we were shocked to find that the tide had come in, the shore had disappeared and the newly formed sea was about level with the door!  “We need to get to higher ground!” I shouted over pounding rain as I tried to gauge if the tailpipe would be completely submerged.  3The verdict was: yes it would be underwater.  Our only hope was to go it at a steady pace and create enough wake behind the car to keep the pipe clear.  With Laurel at the helm we miraculously made it out!  Soon we were passing parking lots that were much worse off than the one we had just narrowly escaped.  We started seeing abandoned cars with water up to the headlights and I knew things were getting serious.  If this was going to be a matter of survival then so be it!  We shall prevail!  “Stick to the left lane!” I shouted to my able helmsman as I attempted to capture the drama on camera.  “Aye aye Captain!”    We decided to alter our current course from North East (toward the next gig) to due West where we hoped to find refuge above sea level.  After thirty minuets of navigating the banks of roads that had been torrentially transformed into rivers complete with swift currents, countless emergency vehicles and hastily abandoned cars – the flood was behind us and we were sopping up water off the camper floor.  5We certainly suffered from post traumatic stress syndrome the next day but we recounted it as swashbuckling pirates facing a fierce squall.  We made it out alive with our ship intact, our treasures abundant and another true tale of adventure on the high seas.  What more could a couple of  road-warriors ask for?


Woke up this morning to a warm ocean breeze filling the Scamp with sublime happiness on this 15th of December, then spent the rest of the hot Southern Florida day at Hallandale Beach just North of Miami. 87º F is nothing compared to the summers here but as a hearty New Englander anything above 80º F seems oppressive. When we bought the Scamp we decided to get an awning instead of an air conditioner which may have been a better choice!  Anyway, a cool dip in the Atlantic Ocean seems to wash away even the most stubborn tarnish afflicting my spirit.  I can’t even remember what I was stressing about yesterday. Was that yesterday? Who knows? Who cares? Let’s hit the beach again.


I’m the hiphopopotamus. My lyrics are bottomless.

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