Sandman's Journal

I've spent all of today's writing creativity on job application shenanigans and I'm spent. I spent and got spent--and ultimately that's the problem with jobs in the first place. How do we remain creative forces when we're having to force creativity? To pay rent it seems we must remain spent which I resent. (I could be full of shit, too. Sand Pan hates responsibility, commitment, and the ilk. Sand Pan is dying a slow death. Sand Pan is an illusion.)

Last night I visited the Stanford campus where Jen and I played live. A sweet gang of four high school anarcho kids joined us in the studio. They'd heard my tunes via CrimethInc. It was pleasing to have them as an audience.

My pal, Jack Norton, just offered me a string of midwest shows starting April 11th. This might conflict with my potential curator job, though. Ay caramba.