It strikes me that today is a markedly different departure than others I have made. In the past I have longed for the road as an escape. These veins have always carried nomad blood and no doubt always will, but tonight I felt a pull towards home as the conductor made his final call from the back car of the Pacific Surfliner. It's a moment I wear with pride. I doubt very much it is a signal I will travel less, but if nothing else it is a sign I am closer to being where, and being who I wish to be. This is a strange adventure as any true adventure is. I have been lucky to live as a songwriter and a troubadour. No doubt this is the dream of many, and with each new day I pay my respects to the blessing. Still, I have earned this right. I have bled for this gift. I have lost and gained much for the music I carry in my suitcase. This year I will play a hundred shows, I will release new music, I will attempt to reinvent myself ironically as myself. The truth is I'm winging it. Some of these shows will be great, some I will hate myself for. Some of these songs will be divine, some I'll wish I had never played. The act of being human is only an artform if you really let it fly. Let's fly!