Forgive me if I'm a little incoherent this morning.
That is, more incoherent than usual.
I got up pretty early to drive Gina to the airport for a brief trip to New York to help launch the furniture line she designed. Heady stuff.
So I dragged my ass out of bed and now, after fighting rush hour traffic, I'm back home with a little time to kill before rehearsal.
Add to that an erratic night of sleep fueled by the fact that I played basketball last night and was haunted by some severe foot and calf cramps in the wee hours of the morning... I get the feeling that today is going to be a bit of a trial.
After rehearsal, it's up to Deerfield to teach, and then to the Pontiac Grill in Wicker Park to play an acoustic set. No cover, cheap drinks if you're in Chicago looking for something to do. I play at 9:00-ish
The drive out to O'Hare and back this morning was kind of a pain, but it did give me some time to reflect on another trip out to O'Hare, one in the fall of 2004 which yielded the genesis of the song Fallout Grace...
"On the edge of town, the planes fly overhead..."
And now, for whatever reason, I just can't get the word ecnalubma out of my head.
jbg
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