Stew was good. Brighton was good. Back to London tomorrow. Choreographer meeting. Audition logistics starting to take shape. Good weekend. Good birthday.

Also apparently Shauna has a person. Dillan. He was here for the birthday. Seems good. That’s all I’ve got on that.

Soft launch. Shauna’s touring configuration going forward. Shauna Beil on vocals. Fynn McDonnell on drums. Penelope Stewart on strings. Luca Strand on guitar and as music director. More to come.

Stew is doing what stew does. Takes time. Doesn’t need watching. The house is finding its Sunday rhythm around it. Different energy than yesterday. Good different. Marie isn’t here this weekend. That’s its own thing. Moving forward.

Brighton Sunday. The house is quieter this morning. Someone made coffee. I’m making stew. The cables are still in the hallways. Nobody has moved them and nobody needs to.

Brighton. April. The sea is out there somewhere being the sea. Inside there’s music happening in four rooms simultaneously and none of it is scheduled. Recovery apparently looks like this. Fine by me. Good night.

Someone found a theremin. Someone else found what I think is a hang drum. The kitchen smells like something that’s been going since this morning. 52 degrees and cloudy outside. Nobody has looked out the window in hours. Good birthday.

Made it. Delivered the basket. Shauna looked exactly like herself which is the correct way to look on your birthday. The house is extraordinary. Cables in every hallway. Instruments I can’t identify in at least three rooms. High energy. No expectations. Staying the night.

Train to Brighton for Shana’s Birthday. Gift basket taking up the seat next to me. Still not entirely myself but better than Monday. Coast in an hour.

I picked up some kind of ick on the plane here.

Urgh. I have been ill. Regular content returning next week. Everything is delayed.

At the airport.

Happy Easter. I am off to London today from Law. Just trying to get my ducks in a row before.

I’ve been mostly offline for the better part of two weeks. Dealing with attorney paperwork with Evelyn and digging through notes and emails and texts.

It is…. Not my favorite thing to be doing.

Good news is it’s done now. We finished at 5:30pm last night.

I’m off to London tomorrow night.

Long day. Good day. Week is moving. More tomorrow.

Clearing a path in a crowded venue in the dark. Don’t point the flashlight at people. Don’t keep it on the floor where nobody sees it. Bounce it. Waist to chest height, rhythmic, in front of you in the direction you’re going.

Bed checks. Not what you think. Not a curfew. Not surveillance. One call to the room phone per person. Are you in your room and do you need anything. Done well it takes ten minutes

Has an AirTag shaped hole that we don’t talk about. Does its job every time.

Still things there means people still off the bus. Seat clear means everyone is back. No headcount. No waking anyone up. No roll call. Mine is a platypus. Missing an eye and most of its fur. Been repaired by costume departments on three continents and once by Shauna.

Rest stops on a long drive with a full bus. Everyone needs something that goes in the driver’s seat when they get off and gets collected when they get back on. Doesn’t matter what it is. A stuffed animal, a keychain, anything visible. Driver looks at the seat before rolling.

I can tell this story now. Last November as I was waiting in line at the airport in Dallas Evelyn coordinated to serve me with discovery paperwork. It’s taken a while both with her schedule and mine but I’m finally filling it out. That’s why I’ve been quiet this week

Quiet Sunday. The crash pad is settling into evening. Tomorrow starts early. Two weeks of this and then London and then whatever comes after London. Good night.

Suit is handled. Files are reviewed. Notes are where they need to be. As prepared as I’m going to be tonight. The rest is Evelyn’s department.

Got the suit out of storage. Assessed the situation. It needs pressing. Pressing is happening. Monday is Evelyn. Different kind of week starting tomorrow.

iPad out. Pulling up old files. Show notes, equipment settings, dates, venues. The meticulous kind of records that exist because they’ve always existed and now exist for a different reason. Reviewing.

The crash pad on a Sunday is its own specific thing. People coming in and out. Someone made too much coffee. Dane is explaining something about Egyptian festival infrastructure to whoever will listen. Good house.

Sunday. Nobody is moving quickly. Brunch is happening at whatever pace Sunday allows. Bethanne is still horizontal. That’s correct

Home. Crash pad. Saturday done. First real night out since Seattle and I’m home before midnight. Tour manager behavior. Good night.

Gyro place on the way. Someone always knows where the gyro place is. This was the correct decision.

Someone suggested a club after. I wanted to go home. Going home. Some nights you know

Back Woods Drifters delivered. Completely. Was not working tonight. Just watching. That’s a different feeling than I remember. Good different.