>>You used to say that there's a time we all deserve to loose our minds...<<
Almost 4,000 miles in the span of less than a year with nothing more to show for it than Amtrak stubs, a shoe box of photographs and negatives, and a whole slew of memories. All for the cluttered confusion of concerts. After attending the 5th one of this year, I decided to find a way to chronicle my adventures because one day I'll be senile and standing in front of some poor 20-year old clerk in my house dress with pink curlers in my hair and green tissue paper slippers demanding to know where my 250MG of Augmentin is and not remember any of the past months of my travels.
Rachael dubbed me as Chicken Little when referring to me as the webmistress of my now defunct site Even Angels Bite Their Nails. I thought that she somehow knew of all of the flurry of activity, running around, and stress that went on before one of my shows and that resembled Chicken Little. But no, it was just me frantically spazzing because nothing was working for me for the Hanson TTA Tour. However, I grew attached to the title and with that, I give you my road journals taken from pages within my Brit and American Lit notebook, fragments written in my American Lit anthology, or Chicken Little vs. The Fantastic Supermarket Trolley.
