Greetings from Seattle. City of grunge, black coffee, dirty sex and heroin. I hung around the docks and the Houses of the Holy. Joe, coffee, cup of mud. The nastiest coffee house I found here last time (Coffee Messiah) is no more. The caffeinated Black Jesus on the wall is no longer hanging, neither are the junkies and the freaks. Another Starbucks casualty. Too bad ... I liked that place. It was real. Long live independent coffee houses! At my lowest Low, during the early phases of this CD, I hung out there in the early mourn and would write songs or just brood. My goal was to write a new song each day, scrawled on the front page of the Seattle Times (to see the date). Sometimes the pierced and tattooed crowd would look over my shoulder, but I always felt safe. The Messiah was with me ...

Peace, -Todd