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About a week ago I woke up and got out of the RV, which I've had parked on the same street for the better part of the last five months. To my surprise there was ANOTHER RV in front of mine. It was a lot older, but about the same size.

I went to lunch, and as I returned I saw a man getting into the RV.

"Hi! Welcome to the neighborhood," I said jokingly.

Early On a Sunday Morning

On Where Pianos Roam

Sometimes, I like to think about what my life will be like in a few years.  There are two extremes that I seem to dwell on more often than not.

In one extreme, I will be a hermit living in a very remote and secluded location, far away from the spoils of man.  Every day, I work in my little vegetable garden, and in the afternoons, I sit at my piano for hours on end playing my songs.  I take long quiet walks into the countryside and spend time drawing plants, animals, and flowers.  Books are devoured more than they are just read.  It is a calm existence.

In another extreme, I am travelling constantly performing shows or in whatever occupation/capacity I will inhabit by then.  Every new city is more vibrant than the last, and every person I meet has a name that I have to try to remember among hundreds already.  I try to eat some local dish in each geographic location without becoming a sizable bovine beast.  I stare out of airplane windows, car windows, and hotel windows endlessly, not really looking for anything but just absorbing the views.  I take note of local habits and sensibilities, all of which serve a stark contrast to my own nomadic livelihood.

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