I have a prediction: in five years I will speak with a southern accent again. No, I have no plans to move to back where old times are not forgotten. It just seems like the inevitable process of sentimentality-with-age his hitting me like Ernie Shavers at the moment. I think I am sort of homesick and I miss my family and I am grasping anything that reminds me of home. For the first time in my life country music makes perfect sense to me! I am on a serious Loretta Lynn ("Dear Uncle Sam" seems like the most touching and prescient peace of country cheese of all time) jag right now (thanks Sissy Spacek!) and that has followed hard stretches of Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, George Jones and the Louvin Brothers. The funny thing is (and proof that I am probably more than a little confused by all of this) is that the music of my youth and place I grew up would be the soundtrack of Dazed and Confused. The suburbs, not the honky tonk, in other words. I just don't know anymore.

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