Of Loves and Wives

Lay down rollaround the LUVS love loft gig, the great Gatsbian party in the sky, part past part future, all now. The holographic moment, layers of texture on layers of vibration on layers of feeling on layers of chemicals on layers of molecular skeletal reality.

BOOM, beautiful. Humans mixing sweat steam ghosts in atmosphere, beautiful – BOOM.

Morning finds us on the Brown family farm, a type of paradise but like every paradise – paperthin. We are gone before breakfast has been cleared. In the time between, talk is swing and prayer is something you sing. Dearly beloved we are gathered here to do IT. Consummate the marriage of spirit and flesh with food. A naturally high hang.

Doug Brown makes us Man Tea. It tastes like glorious dirt, made of ground roots and bee pollen. Feels like every time the lightning struck the ground it gathered here for me to drink.

Now we roll on to Chicago, the twisty city blowhard. I feel the pull of spring as we drive in the direction of warm weather. The sun is generous and the breeze kind. The world is froze over but at least it’s bright. Andrew says it is a New Renaissance of Positivity.

This is day two of a tour stretching from Valentine’s to April Fool’s, a coincidental hologram of the album we’re touring, Young Love.

We dive in like Young Love too. So far it is the simple joy of a simple love affair with movement. Tonight we join The Crane Wives for a last taste of the Midwest before becoming more distantly flung.

From the backseat of a dot moving left on a line on a speck in space,

yours in perpetuity,



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