Greetings from Beyond the Walled City.

I am literally one week in town this summer, this one. And it's high on my to-do list to get to this blog updated. Typically the more fun I have the less time to write about it. Just as well, I think in many cases it's perceived as bragging. And maybe that's as it should be.

Still, I feel compelled to write to keep you in the loop, I get back to the northeast so infrequently these days, and there are a handful of you who still care what it is I'm doing. Out here, beyond the walled city, in America.

That's how I feel, how I felt when we first moved to Bowling Green, after getting over the initial shock and realization that Jesus is really bigger than Elvis here (and more alive), I was reminded of how initially I initially was at the east coast's godlessness (but crop circles those are real).I learned to ply my stock and trade with snarky-ness and sarcasm, my best lyrics are "zingers", my stage banter all Adam Brodsky meets Dennis Miller, in the dirty town of illadelph, the town I sometimes still call home this worked (or rather gave the appearance of working).

But now I'm on the outside, the middle, the south whatever you want to call it. People are genuine and nice. Sure, they'll lie to you face with the broadest smile you've ever seen, but in general, they're happy to see you. And even if that isn't the case, there's no good reason to not be polite.

Makes it tough to be a smart mouth, don't it?

Anyway, this all adds water (and manure) to a seed planted by my dad years ago, who said that the problem with comedy was that it was all based on the idea that you were better than someone else. He was right, it is as true now as then. In fact it's endemic. All comedy, Cops and shows of that ilk, those stupid Home Video shows, reality TV? we can watch them all and say look how much better we are. People (including my mom, sadly) love Judge Judy cause she tells those so-called "plaintiffs" what she really thinks, Dr. Phil, same thing. And we, who are spineless, or henpecked, who brown-nose our bosses out of fear of losing our job, or from the ever-diminishing hope of advancement, we who are cowards in our own home can watch and live vicariously as others say the things we will never have the guts to say.

And it's a perfectly useful model if don't like yourself, but want to feel better about yourself. But eventually, you're gonna get tired of it, if you base your self-image on intellectual superiority, you're gonna be really lonely, cuz there's a lot of "dumb" people out there. Most of whom are a lot of fun. If i am wise beyond my years it's because I decided a long time ago to believe that we are all truly equal. Sure, I can play a couple of instruments, and I'm pretty good at making things rhyme. and I can be entertaining when I feel I'm in a space where I am supposed to be entertaining. So what? I don't make anything, I don't build anything. I'm a singer/songwriter who plays dulcimer. I can make you feel good for a while but Doctors, Teachers, Leaders, especially Leaders, we really could use a few more of those.

So as I endeavor to make myself a more livable being I find it harder to be snarky. Especially since I am now meeting more and more people from outside my old paradigm, some who are older, all who are friendlier than those with whom I wasted countless hours in cafes sipping organic soy latté whatevers and complaining about the homogenization of America via Starbucks.

By the way, there are days when I would kill for a Starbucks now. There are only three in Ohio, and I know where they all are. In the land of plenty it's easy to complain about too much. It's in the desert, where nobody complains about the water being "tap".

There are a lot of you who are discovering me for the first time, as a dulcimer player, and are wondering what the rest of this is all about. It's a long story, most of it though is here and here. And quite possibly will someday be on a CD of stuff I started and never finished (technically, "the Moonshiner's Atlas" is my 4th record)

So I will be spending less time in the Walled City, for the first time in eight years I am not going to Falcon Ridge. I am going to Chicago for a friend's wedding. Not just any friend, Ted was a personal chauffeur for Christie and I at our first date in Minneapolis, we stayed at his home, his mom fed us, he had never met me, and this was only his third time meeting Christie.

I was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

And I'm not being sarcastic.