That’s All Right

T-minus 48 hours until The Big Move, and nothing’s packed.

Looks like Thursday’s gonna’ be all about loading my life into cardboard boxes. As I walked through my apartment this morning, I made mental notes, ‘That goes, that doesn’t. That goes, that doesn’t.’ I thought it interesting that none of my Elvis ephemera — save for my Guralnick books — is making the cut. The dream has died.

Ends up my Tuesday wasn’t so bad after all, though it certainly was a long day. And a soggy one. The Smith Family did it’s monthly residency at Great Lakes, which is always a hoot. I ended “That’s All Right” on my back, a la Derek Smalls. Then I had the good sense to call a car almost as soon as we were done performing, as opposed to closing the place with our bartender friend Julie. The ride home found me talking about the Yankees game with a 21-year-old driver who works at Smith Barney by day, and drives a Town Car by night. He plans on retiring by 25. I just wanted to be asleep by 2. (I was, after a bowl of ice cream.)

Kevin, CJ, and I have our last night in the studio tonight. I’m not sure how I’m going to get the whole record done — tracking, mixing, artwork and all — between now and next Monday, but I’ll figure it out. It all manages to get done. Oh, and we’re shooting a video this weekend. Right after The Big Move. And did I mention the NYC Marathon?

I’m going to Eluthera, Bahamas, on December 26. Moments like these, when the city is lost in the clouds, when my office is hot and claustrophobic, when my head feels like an anvil’s resting on it, well, it’s a good thing. It’s a fine vision to hold. It’s a nice break to imagine. It’s a welcome finish line. It’s all right. Anything will do.

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