Striking Sparks Off the Moon: Home of Tomorrow's Man

Been a while what with craze and chaos my crippling constants these days, so this is just a quick update on the distribution of Toxicocktail, which is now available on Amazon. All of the other biggies are coming soon — iTunes, eMusic, Napster, etc.  Stay intoned.

If I live to tell the story of the last six months of my life, they’ll rename the Pulitzer.

At last (if only roughly finished).

Ten years is a long time to keep the demons in.

The writing on this album began in November 1999, and has become larger and more complex than anything else I’ve attempted along the way. Since this is as good as any other forum these days to disseminate liner notes, I would like to thank about a skillionty people.  I can’t think of any order that makes sense, so here’s this. Thanks to:

Hank Kuczynski, who told me from an early age that I’m both too bald and not bald enough to be a rock star; and who might hit me if I don’t put him first;

Mike Hairston, who has forever provided me with amazing support and invaluable critical insight about my musical progress;

Brett Holinbeck, who has done the same for my mental progress;

Rahel Holinbeck, for putting up with Brett and me when we’re together;

Thanks to the rest of my Madison Major Arcana:  Kat Davis, the Emperess; Steve Davis, the Emperor; Sloan Davis, the Star; Nate Marx, the Magician; Ryel Estes, the High Priestess; Lisa Bell, the Sun; Ned Kirby, the Hierophant; and Al Ritchie, the Tall Dude with the Hair;

Thanks to Tara McMullen, for founding my poetic memory; and to Marianne Lachance and Louis Simard, who I still miss every day they grace distant France with their vitality;

Thanks to Valerie Clark, for being a little bit of every reason I’ve learned anything in my life;

Thanks to Astra Kim, for remaining my destiny; and to Dustin Sklavos, for being my slavedriving muse and most recently acquired best friend.  Also, thanks to the rest of the Skeleton Crew gang, including the lovely and wonderful BJ Mortimer and the wonderful and lovely Laura Osburn;

And thanks to so many others for so many reasons:  Kim Marx (and Mouse) for thunderstorms and bacon; Kevin Nelson, for being my unofficial hero; Chantale Arsenault, the Visionary Goddess, for a glimpse at Pandora’s box; Amy Ketchum, for being the angel behind our Nocturnal Requiem (and I pray many more to come); Carmen, Jeff, and Amy, for being creative and precocious (keep on rockin’, kids); Apollo Marquez for my first chance to read in Madison in 2000 (so the rest since then is all his fault); Chris Korte for Vielspassvotze; Dean Peters for his slim fit jeans; Jessica (Red) Ingalls for being the first but not last inspiration for the scary middle of this album; Kala Snowflower because she is always; and my family back home for keeping the ocean there waiting for me, hopefully with a side of manicotti and ricotta pie.

And most importantly, thanks to my lovely wife, Sarai Lenore, for her ongoing support, unbelieveable patience, and amazing enchiladas.

If I’ve left anyone out I apologize, but the Alzheimer’s kicks in right about now.  Thank you all,

Thank you all,

To you all, here’s Ringo: “Peace and love, peace and love.”