There was a way,  waaaaay out there among our city of lights at burning man,  there was a way that my hippie-ass necklaces bumped together and made a little ‘ding-ding-dink’ sound, a bell, a reminder, that all things are in their right place at all times.  I promised myself that every time i heard that, i would do my bestest to remember…the fleeting importance of life on this planet,  the eternal soul residing within.

AND ANYWAYS-  i suppose those ideas arent so hard to come by right now, getting flown to the far reaches of the planet, rocking on their dime and it all rides on music & charisma (might i be so bold).
But its all so different up in the far northern reaches of capitalism, and nobody knows here, nobody relates to our anti-establishment establishment.
But people, if this shit ever gets to my head, please sock me in the neck.  I realize it could all vanish in an instant.

AND back to the World Report :  Stockholm, Sweeden!!!   BALLS COLD here. Amazing beer. Ive spent most of my time sleeping, as usual,  only now with my gigantic pillar of a father in Tow, it might be funny to picture the both of us sharing a bed together for the first time in probably 25 years.  Trying to eek out some sleep before things get crazy and i have a show to put on.  He farts.  I fart.  The smell lingers.  He is huge. I am small.  We wake up and laugh about silly things, becoming more every day like the old friends we’ve always been, minus my drug-hiatus.
People here talk real funny, and cute.  Everyone looks like Tavis. Food is thick.   And for a good headspin, walk into old town, among buildings & history, five, six-hundred years. Whitey McGee has been here for longer than us punks set foot on injun soil.