I drove down to Texas last week.

I played a couple shows in Austin, had a really good time.

I saw a lot of old friends, saw a lot of people that listen to this show just a

really good time getting to catch up with people but on the way down there I drove

out of the way I drove way out of the way went down to Pineville Louisiana and I

visited Sputnik Monroe's grave just a beautiful old old graveyard. It's actually a beautiful old town,

a little bit run down, but sort of place I wouldn't mind living one day. But I stayed in San Marcos

in a not-so-great hotel, but the price was right. And I got up one morning and drove down to San Antonio

so I could pay my respects to Doug Somm visited his grave.

It took me about an hour and 15 minutes to find it.

I walked all over the graveyard, but it was a beautiful morning,

and I got me some breakfast tacos and headed on.

But as I headed home, I stopped off in Texarkana.

I figured I would get me a hotel room for the night because I got a late start. And I checked in. And man, it was one of the worst hotel rooms I've stayed at in quite a while. It really was not a thing of beauty. But you get used to that sort of thing. We'll just call it an occupational hazard when you're a folk singer. I woke up early in the morning to a couple arguing outside

my door, really loud. I peeked out my window and I realized it was a prostitute and a pimp arguing

over money right outside my door.

It's a hell of a thing to realize that you just listening to Thanks for Giving a Dam.

I'm sitting here in my living room in East Nashville.

This is a personal journal.

This is a bit of an experiment.

I'd like to say right up front that I haven't the slightest idea of what I'm doing, but I decided to do it anyway.

And this show was founded with the idea that there are only two people in art that

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