June 25, 1998
After being worked to death on deadlines and having these sudden musical emergencies come up, I turned off everything electrical and considered that the official start of my vacation.
Guy Michel is this “guy” that lives in San Francisco and is a graphic designer. I haven’t seen him in ages. He decided, after writing this, not to send it to me, believing it was needlessly hurtful, or just didn’t have the nuts to deliver it. Soon afterward, Pete Straus discovered it on Guy’s computer, and talked him into letting me see it. Yes, I agree, it’s a terrible thing to read, having just put out my new record, but it’s no worse than a negative review. Except in this case, I think he listened to the CD a few times, and apparently spent hours composing this (reneged) letter.
To all jinxed space travelers, earth shakers, cave dwellers (and pop stars):
I sincerely hope this finds you well and in good enough spirits to read on, after all, Christmas is approaching, if not already come and gone.
Since last year’s seasonal outburst was such a fantastic success and a blow to my self-image, here I go again with more love and tidings to match this year’s chidings. There’s no business like blow business, I can swear to that, my friends. Everyone from the dentist next door (Dr. White and Mr. Jones) to Bob Licky and Zoe Snow will testify that there were some days on the ‘95 calendar that just blew. All rejoice in the glory of days with no blow.
I'm an outa touch man, but I try to keep a foot on a ground when I recollect the correspondence over the past 94 year. I sincerely dig the letters I've received; answered, or not. We all know of the letters that we've neglected to answer. I hope all of you have had some successes this glorious but maybe boring year. Anyway, this past year for me has been a real learner, getting hip the fact that this music is a young man's game. Well, I can vouch for meself that I can still carry the rock card for a few more rekkid's worth. Now that release #2 has been sighted on the record rack, I can relax (unless a dream tour starts tomorrow), and look forward to my introspective third album. Then again, I might have used up all my pensiveness on my first two CDs. Peers are pushing me for a more street-wise sound, one that reflects on an urban upbringing in the ghetto. In order to get right down to these roots, I must flee this San Franciscan paradise, and live in relative squalor in a funky city somewhere in the South. Never happen. Could just make more melodic rock for unadulterated folk. I welcome any patronage. I see you.