Tornados and calluses. Bloody meat and broken glass. All worth it.

One month into Brooklyn, I unwittingly and fortunately landed in a loft space that is crowded with artists, musicians, and other characters. McKibben lofts is known nicknamed the "art dorm," and I'm very excited about the Potion Collective that was born from this feeding ground. Great inspiration, interesting folks doing peculiar things. The neighborhood looks like a deserted warehouse landscape. My neighbor is a gravel quarry and receiving dock for cabbage, and the birds imitate car alarms.

By night I am a musician, and by day I slice meat at a deli in the gay district. Learning to sleep for two hours at a time, whenever that space opens up. Songs pop in frequently, most likely do to the change of scenery and lifestyle. I've been hard at work on songs for the album that follows this Fall's upcoming release. Starting to put effects on the accordion, pushing the capacity for the instrument's output. The isolation that comes from being a new kid on the block is good for development in a new direction...

I miss Milwaukee, for its people and comfort. Feel like I am a Milwaukee ambassador in New York, like I'm a fur trader or exporter...

Experienced the miracle of flight last night, and am giddy from being home. It's nerve-wracking to squeeze in quick rehearsals before the big show at Verge on Saturday, but the band is quick to pick up the new material. Eager to bring a second drummer to the stage tomorrow, and to push performance intensity. I'm very interested in movement and destruction right now. If I'm not scared out of my mind, then I don't feel like I'm doing anything worthwhile, so we will be experimenting with new material. Play, push, pull. Will give everything I've got, expect some sacrificial offerings on stage.