The High Line.

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We did a long rehearsal at a studio near 10th Ave, and the High Line–disused elevated train tracks that used to haul cargo from the piers to the West side warehouses, and are now covered with weeds and tall grasses. During the dinner break, waiting for the Thai food to arrive, we all went outside and squinted up at the High Line, trying to figure out a way to get up there–shimmy up that girder there? Use hedge clippers to cut the fence there? Make friends with the owner of the auto body shop and see if there’s stairs to his roof? Jump up onto that fire escape and climb over, being mindful of the barbed wire?

So I’ve Got a New E.P. Up on iTunes.

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Yeah, it’s called The Gambler EP, it’s got Magnetic Fields, Kenny Rogers, and Neutral Milk Hotel covers on it, two of my fave tunes I wrote for Soul Coughing, one of which I played to the people standing in line outside my gig in Seattle in May.
And, naturally, I’ve misplaced my copies of all these recordings, and thus had to go onto iTunes and pay $5.94 to get them. Sigh.

We Play!

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Rehearsing for the upcoming shows, and it’s really exciting.


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Being with these guys makes me really happy. We spend a lot of time in the rehearsal room playing this jamming/improvisation game I wrote called Face Calls, sort of an iteration of John Zorn’s game pieces. It’s a blast.
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We Eat!

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After rehearsal, Pete and Scrap and I drove out to DiFara’s in Midwood, Brooklyn.


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Yeah, my inner fat man won last night. It was paradise rendered in cheese.
We ordered too much, and as we drove through Williamsburg, we realized that we were right near Handsome Dan’s place, so we called him and told him that we were parked on his corner with DiFara leftovers for him. He came out of his building running.
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DEEP ROY!

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I saw the Burton/Depp Charlie and the Chocolate Factory last night, and I adored it. So. Great. The best part is that all the Oompa-Loompas are played–and played in an awesomely hilarious deadpan–by the same actor, whose name is Deep Roy. Deep Roy!

We Rocked the Block Party in Minneapolis.

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This gig was huge.


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Oh, it was fun. Scrap and I flew in from New York, and Cee-Huck from L.A., and we played this Block Party thing, and there were fried cheese curds, and we hung out with Ben Lee:
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(directly above is Ben woodshedding harmonies with his band in the artists’ trailer)
It was really fun. Chuck and I went out to a bar with some friends post-gig, and as we sat there chatting, the Last Call With Carson Daly performance came on. The sound was off; we sat there watching it as the closed-captioned lyrics scrolled by. Well, at least we looked OK. Nobody in the bar noticed.
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Scrap and I went to the Cinnabon in the airport as we waited for our flight; it was staffed by Ethiopians, who bugged out that I had a tattoo in Amharic on my arm.
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Exit the Shrinks.

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I’m cramming appointments with my shrink before I head out on tour again. August, when I get back, is the traditional shrinks’ vacation time. It’s like Ramadan for all the neurotic artists in New York.