Even an open mike can’t dim the sunshine, puppy dogs, flowers and good living, smiley mood. What the fuck? I’m seriously not suicidal at all. I can’t handle this…

In reality, nothing is quite like cruising down a highway (but not like a Boston highway, a California one, which is like a regular road but a lot more lanes, and lights, if any, that favor a peppy speed) at 10 p.m. roof down, stereo blasting and the air redolent with honeysuckle or lilac or whatever the fuck smelly stuff they got growing here. Sweet.

The mood has been so upbeat that I actually went long on stage, because I was having fun. Anyone who knows me from Boston knows how fucked up that is. (Not only that, but it was kind of a diva move of which I am not proud and of the sort I would “tsk” back home. To whit, the woman booking the show was nice enough to offer me a couple of extra minutes once I introduced myself and let her know I wasn’t new. So I take those two and a couple more. D’oh. I truly couldn’t figure out the light, though.)

I might post the set, depending on whether reviewing it proves the “fun” as “delusion.”

Big for me, I also socialized a bit with the other kids on the show.

At this rate, I’ll be all up in the charity soup kitchen pouring out good will and good food and saving humanity and tell people to turn their fucking frowns upside down.