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Whoa, this is sad. Almost five months since the last diary posting. While I am Extraordinarily Busy, there is really no excuse for this. And you would think that I'd be fixing to burst with news and information, but that isn't the case. Sure there are the usual updates, such as the news that there was another performance of sea shanties on November 2, which was triumphant and epochal. The Valparaiso Men's Chorus got its collective shit together and learned another set of music not on the CD. I harbor the faintest of hopes that we can make another CD. I can't see why not. Maybe the chorus could go out and sell magazine subscriptions to help raise the money. I think it would be cute to see Fayard and Starnes knocking on doors and putting on an earnest face. We could offer people Ranger Rick and Boy's Life. If those magazines still exist. Perhaps a sailing magazine or one devoted to piracy (even though we are not a pirate band). We have been offered a slot at the Offbeat Best of the Beat awards show. Hopefully we can field a quorum.

Outside it is a nice mix of rain and wind. High quality late November weather and a hell of a day to lose a window in one's car. We were driving over to Henry's birthday breakfast over at Elizabeth's when all of a sudden going down Gallier the driver's side window exploded with great fanfare and noise. Kourtney and I just about shit our pants, thinking we were shot. The window fell off its track a few weeks ago and last night I jammed it into a spot from which it could not be moved, in a frenzy of Bayou Classic traffic trying to find a parking spot by the casino. I guess it was wedged in there pretty good since it only took a little bump to make it shatter. Now it is covered with a garbage bag and its raining and my wife had to drive out to UNO where the campus is pitch black due to a power failure. She just called to say she's coming back home. Sometimes you just have to cut your losses and play your Nick Drake records. Yeah. I feel like if it wasn't for the car I'd have nothing to think about, it feels so much at home in the very front of my imagination.

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In other news, I finally broke down and ordered another 1000 Banjaxed CDs, although I wanted to use that money on making a new recording. There is no reason not to do both, except for money, which will always be the lamest excuse for not doing anything. But no matter. There will be Banjaxed CDs for all who desire them in just a few days. One thing there won't be are 007 CDs, at least not "Studied Rudeness", because we are almost done recording a new one. We have been down at Andrew Gilchrist's "House of 1000 Hz" rocking the steady. We have only a few overdubs left to do and then mixing and mastering. The good folks at Discmakers will be soaking us down soon and you will have the new 007 in your hot little hands just in time for the post-christmas rush.

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So there it is. there will be more CDs soon of all sorts of stuff. Did I ever mention the story about how my father once asked me about my future? I was out of college about a year or two and floating around in a kind of brownian motion, halfway expecting and hoping for a career in music. It was in the living room of the ancestral home in New Jersey and he asked me almost thoughtfully what were my plans for my life. Now, one thing about my old man is he can take a joke, so I took a moment and thought about what would be my reply to this very charged question. "I was thinking I would go to law school", I said. He then looked at me with an expression very close to anger and told me, sternly, "I'll break your fucking legs". I think of that every time I'm loading bass amps into a car.