Adventure #102: Lexington, Kentucky

He was an older man, impeccably and fashionably dressed (except for the sandals) with two bags and a sign that just said "OHIO." My trip to Kentucky had been, at best, a waste of time. I was headed back to Ohio anyway. The least I could do was take him with me. "Anywhere in Ohio?" I asked. "Anywhere." "Is Cincinnati OK?" "That's perfect." He got in the car.

Here are the things I can be reasonably sure are true that Star told me:

1. He had hitchhiked from California to Lexington, Kentucky in about 5 days.
2. He was a disabled Vietnam vet with a gnarly foot injury.
3. He was well-read about history and knew a lot of obscure facts about the Founding Fathers.
4. He once had a dog named Awesomest, but doesn't anymore.
5. He's sixty years old.
6. He's part British and park Cherokee and maybe descended from a Mayflower passenger.
7. Obama doesn't know who he is.

Here are the things that Star told me that are probably not true:

1. He's never consummated his marriage to his wife of 4 years, and she told him that if he hitchhiked to Ohio, she would fly out to meet him, and they would be married at her parent's house in Dayton in front of a Rabbi.
2. His wife is a model who actually owns QVC and is one of the richest people in the world.
3. His wife is going to let him on QVC to spread his message of peace and love.
4. His wife bought him a 75 foot yacht that is currently anchored off both Martha's Vineyard and the San Francisco Bay.
5. He once gave away $15,000 in $100 bills at a Walmart in California around Christmas.
6. His wife is descended directly from Mary Magdalene and is a shipping magnate because Jesus told her ancestor to go into import / export before he was crucified.
7. His wife has a long-term girlfriend named Tracy, but he doesn't care because he loves her.
8. His wife is buying him a new dog which he will name “Awesomest Two,” but call just “Two.”
9. He and his wife will buy all the world's debt in order to force all the world governments to declare world peace, at which point Obama will finally have to publicly recognize him.
10. You shouldn't call someone a “Jew,” they prefer to be called “Hebrews.”

I want his whole story to be true (except the Jew bit. I bristled every time he insisted on calling us Hebrews...). I want to believe that after I dropped Star off at a truck stop north of Cincinnati, he called up his wife, who was waiting patiently at the airport. She took a cab like she promised and met him. And they lived happily ever, after enforcing world peace by controlling all world debt. But mostly I just hope he finds someone to take him back to California.

This is Pen Pen and a random castle in the middle of Lexington, Kentucky because why not?

This is a song I wrote one time. You should download it and share it with your friends.

Adventure #101: Philadelphia, PA and Wilmington, DE

I'm continually amazed by the transformative powers of music. I can spend an entire morning driving in a terminally pissy mood; tired, sore, frustrated, homesick, and then suddenly a radio station in West Virginia plays Living Colour's “Cult of Personality.” By the end of the intro I'm a person again. By the end of the first verse I'm singing along at top volume. By the end of the first chorus I'm re-energized and invincible. This is Pen Pen, future cult of personality.

I was undecided about Philly at first. The last show I'd played there was disappointing at best. Plus I lost a mic stand at it. Bah! Driving around in search of a coffee shop to finish some work, I ended up on a street so covered with cherry blossoms that it was slippery. Philly's not so bad. The show that night was actually pretty solid. It was a small crowd, but warm. Everyone there was participating, shouting out random covers, singing along. Interrupting my rambling stories with their own. Though many of us were strangers at the beginning of the night, the power of a Tom Petty singalong and a poorly executed impromptu Queen cover transformed us into friends. Fun fact: Queen sounds dumb on an acoustic guitar. Todd from the Susan Drangle House showed up. In all my years of touring, exactly twice has someone I've approached about a show said “we can't do it, but let me know if you get a show and I'll come check it out and you can crash with us!” It was seriously humbling. Maybe it doesn't sound like much to people who don't tour a lot, but it meant a lot to me. This is Pen Pen warming up to this whole Philadelphia thing.

Delaware, on the other hand, I had no preconceptions about. I've never gotten out of my car in Delaware. Sure I've driven through a bunch of times, but always on the way to somewhere else. It turns out Delaware is pretty great—or at least Wilmington is. I ended up talking to a store owner for almost an hour (his son discovered Norah Jones, apparently!) before one of the other patrons started telling me all the places I should play next time I'm in town. When I got to Mojo13 it was totally empty. “I'm the featured artist tonight. I was told to show up around 7:30.” I explained to blank stares. By 9, a few folks had started to trickle in. By the time the music started, this group of strangers and acquaintances had become friends. I finished my set backed up on congas by a bassist who had snubbed me earlier in the evening and against whom I had nursed a foolish but short-lived grudge. I don't really understand how playing music together can turn people into friends without a single word passing between them. I don't understand how the right song coming on the radio at the right time can transform you from a cranky tortoise into a real live human person. And I guess I hope I never do. Magic tricks are diminished when you know their secrets. The world needs all the magic it can get. This is Pen Pen crossing the Delaware.

This is a song I wrote one time. You should download it and share it with your friends.

Adventure #100: Belchertown, MA and New York, NY

I'm not a superstitious person. I don't think that the position of the stars when you're born have anything to do with who you are as a person. My quasi-observant Jew-hood has more to do with respect for tradition and the comfort and sense of place I find in ancient customs than any faith in a divine whatever. But I do believe in the serendipity of the radio. As I pulled out of the house in Brewster, the radio was playing Tupac – Changes. I took it as a sign from the tree peeper I befriended the other day and named Treefrog Shakur (my childhood pet frog was named Biggie. I'm a fan of themed names...) that this was going to be a good tour. This is Treefrog Shakur being fucking adorable.

The last few months in Brewster with Marisa and Jack have been probably the longest period in my adult life that I've gone without either having to pack my suitcase and leave the state for a project or suffering some terrifying medical crisis. It's been a period of some stress and upheaval, sure, but also one of relative stability. Daily routines and habits. My life has changed in such huge ways since my last tour. Suddenly I'm part of a family. I'm charged with being an example for an impressionable tiny person. I don't really know what I'm doing, but I'm trying my damndest to do it well. This is the first time leaving for tour hasn't been a relief. This is the first time I've ever been homesick on the drive to my first show. And I have a beard. I should have led with that. I have a beard now. I'm undecided about it. This is Pen Pen with a beard.

I got to the venue and discovered that my tiny trusty netbook had finally kicked the bucket. So much for good omens. Treefrog Shakur works in mysterious ways. But seeing as my good laptop was dead for 24 hours earlier in the week before inexplicably rising again like the hologram of a beloved performer, I'm not worried. Plus, there's not really anything I can do about it from the road. The show was a lot of fun, and I guess was only the second show they've done in their space. I haven't performed a full set in a while. And I've never performed with a beard. The crowd indulged me as I fumbled my way through a few new songs. I'm hoping to test out a lot of the material for my new album on the road before I finish recording it. So far, so beardy. This is Pen Pen: Time Detective.

My Brooklyn show was canceled last week after the space got noise complaints, and I decided that instead of scrambling to find a half-assed show that I wouldn't have time to promote, I'd just spend time with my friends. Besides, I had a few meetings and rehearsals that I needed to make. I'd hoped to make it to New York in time for court support for Cecily McMillan, but traffic rules us all (radio update: Looking Glass – Brandy, and Notorious BIG – Mo Money Mo Problems). I didn't know Cecily McMillan well. As far as I can recall we'd only ever really spoken once. But I witnessed her assault on March 17^th 2012, just moments after I'd been beaten myself by the NYPD. I pulled into the city just in time for the guilty verdict to be announced. How any twelve members of the human race could find her guilty is beyond me. The Puppet Guild met in Zuccotti instead of our usual Monday in the Secret Puppet Lair. I showed up and was immediately put to work making signs and cards. It was wonderful to see so many people in the park. It's been far too long since I've sat in Zuccotti Park with a Sharpie mass producing signs for a demonstration. The crowd was lively, mostly respectful, and tried their best to be constructive. An assembly was held in which we brainstormed ways to continue to support Cecily and hopefully influence her sentencing. We all laughed as we dusted off the old OWS process. Do we need to mic check? There's only like a hundred and twenty people here. I don't miss New York. I've been gone for 3 months, and I don't really miss it. I miss my family far more after just a day apart. But I do miss this stupid awful park and the amazing conversations it inspires. This is Pen Pen demanding #Justice4Cecily.

This isn't a song I wrote. This is the greatest song in the history of music.