Sandman's Journal

Ay caramba. My fingers are perched upon the keyboard of western Montana's slowest computer.

For breakfast I ate frozen grapes that I found growing in a Spokane alley hanging in fat clumps from a chain-link fence. Each sugar-sweet clump was covered in two inches of powdered snow. Last night's show at Empyrean Coffee House was good. I must've got at least three encores and made some friends afterwards. One of the other performers, Locke, is a performer with a mid-era rap (almost Tribe Called Quest) style--super cool, danceable stuff. I stayed at his and his wife's downtown studio apartment. We all chatted until 3 a.m.

The night before last I gigged at Mississippi Studios in Portland opening for Dana Lyons. After the show I decided to drive to Astoria to hang out with my friends Miranda and Teresa. We partied until 6:30 a.m., and I then drove to Olympia for a quick power nap and massage from Nina at her house. With an hour of sleep under my belt and lots of caffeine, the Blue Stallion and I cantered over Snoqualmie Pass and galloped the remaining 250 miles to Spokane.

Speaking of the Blue Stallion--he's just been shod with a sweet set of new tires. I love my new old Buick Century sedan. Pictures will be forthcoming later this week.

Lastly, but best, I just visited Grandma Vi at the nursing home. She returned from the hospital this morning after a mild heart-attack; thus, I was expecting her to be in worse shape than ever. But lo and behold, Grandma looks better than I've seen her in two years! She's walking again, albeit very slowly, which to me is pure miracle. She hasn't walked in 12 months. Her vision and hearing have improved. She's knitting and sorting through old pictures, and everything she says makes sense. I can barely believe it.