Faced with the feeling of an impending non-specific conclusion, I retreated north to sleep on a floor and clear things out. What really happened up there in Maine? I’m not that sure to be honest, my memory of those months is partial at best, late beery nights moving seamlessly into late mornings and early afternoons filled with nothing but instruments and cigarettes. Blankets were hung over the doors and the windows in the day time. The police station was right down the alley and all the cops tested their sirens at least once as they turned onto Pearl Street. There was a city employee that cleaned the streets at 4 am with a leaf blower. Kyle was there. Sulli was there. Marcy’s was filled to bursting all the time and don’t even think about substitutions. There was a drop dead gorgeous girl that worked the Market Street General Store counter and I’m sure she was on to us. You can’t hide when you’re back a few times over the course of an evening every evening. I’m sure something happened. In the end, I moved on. Some of these songs were begun in Jersey with one mic and a 4 track. Others were finished in Chicago, a great place to get some work done, looking out down State Street seven stories up in the middle of the road. Sometimes, everyone needs a little bit of nothing.