I'm reading Jen Trynin's book Everything I'm Cracked Up To Be, as she is going to be reading on Wednesday when I'm playing. It's very good and funny and also sad in parts. I'm also listening non-stop to this new Linda Ronstadt The Capitol Years CD, which is blowing my mind. Along with the fact that I'm gearing up for this gig, my mind is running and racing with all these thoughts of the various musical segments of my life: Singing along to Linda records while watching myself in my bedroom window at twilight, the leaves of the hedge outside slowly fading into me, scrawny in Dittos or Luv-its and a shirt with cats on it...going to see bands when I lived in the East Village, heading out into that same twilight, a little more confident, starting to do music but not really knowing what I was doing, seeing Jen at the Mercury Lounge at one of those shows where you're in the front row and your experience of it is pure and you're able to remember and be inspired by it for a long time...and now practicing in my suburban office, a tiny replica of my EV apartment, and the music is still there and doing it is easier and harder at the same time, then getting in the car and blaring those same Linda songs. "Rock me on the water, sister won't you soothe my fevered brow..." All the music was saying there was so much possibility, and there still is.