Perth

Ottawa airport. Just played this really fab festival called Stewart Park Festival in Perth, Ontario. I cannot tell a lie - Perth rivals my town in beauty, with its canal, rivers, parks and old stone buildings. I was surprised it has the same population as where I live, because in Perth there seemed to be more restaurants and places to drink to your victories, drown your sorrows.

en route to Perth: Hats + Maya.

Maya is horrified by The Big Apple rest stop.

"This hat smells," I announced.

Waiting for grilled cheese.

Maya's tattoo.

I like signing arms. Chests not yet.

Old-timers LOVE apostle of hustle!

Maya and I made the pilgrimage on Friday and as the back of the Irish sugar packet says, "Two Shorten The Road!" So the trip didn't feel long at all. She introduced me to Electrelane and we listened to her Johnny Cash bootlegs. We talked about our various stints as "hired help" in various bands, and how glorious that experience is but how its surrounding madness can also fuck with your head.

The sun was out all day on Saturday. Maya and I played as a duo when we weren't looking for somewhere to get new tattoos. We rocked and then I played at a workshop where I was forced to improvise which is like telling a cat to disco dance. I liked the challenge and realize my classical training has bastardized my free spirit. I guess that's what absyinthe was for but now it's off the market and I refuse to engage in the consumption of pharmeceuticals. Kelly Lee Evans blew my mind.

Same day, the Def Leppard boys played my birth town of Sarnia and it pained me to not be there to witness the spectacle. A few texts back and forth with Joe. My brother went and I was jealous though Dawn and I are probably still recovering from their show in Toronto. There's nothing like seeing people in the crowd mount each other and tear each other's clothing to "Love Bites". Nothing.

Back in Perth, on the mainstage I saw Apostle of Hustle, which Dean plays in, and they killed me. I had never seen them before. What a great band. Andrew Whiteman's banter is so ingenious, he's like a mad poet in a crashing car. One of his comments about Stephen Harper apparently enraged a crowd member and the police came which is just plain brilliant. No police show up when I talk about losing the Juno in 2003.

I played an after-hours show. The last time I played that late it was the Attic in Halifax and they were trying to stretch out bar sales. This time it was just because there was so much great music going on. I wanted to take the audience home. They were so terrific and patient and attentive. When you looked at them while singing they would not look away.

Back to the Aquarius Motel for the whiskey and Euchre. I'm off the drink (as they call it in Ireland) for the most part because I hate flying and feeling dehydrated and stupid after a night of partying. But I got caught up with the masterful Marty Kinack and the lovely Dean Stone. I packed till 3 a.m. because my suitcase always explodes even if it is only open for a few minutes. A little trick I have called - DISORGANIZATION.

So I'm off to L.A. to make this album. Thanks for all the great wishes. Greg and I are unnaturally excited. We keep texting each other...four more days, two more days. I will be counting the hours today.