I am not in Hobart, that's for sure

As Dorothy said to Toto: "We're not in Kansas anymore."

And, as Cher said to Nicholas Cage in Moonstruck: "Snap out of it!"

Golly gosh, this culture straddling ain't easy. Yes, I have twice the friends than I used to. I'd love to see that glass as twice full. But, it's still feeling like half empty, while I miss my Tasmanian friends and life. The only way to make that right is to think about some trips back down the road. And, hopefully, host some travelers here in New York State in the mean time and drink in their accents and humour and fond memories.

Good thing my old American buddies have welcomed me back and we're playing lots of music. More playing out in public. Often involving ice cream. I'm having to stretch to learn tunes that are new to me. And, we're all stretching and dusting off those tunes that somehow fell by the wayside since I've been away.

And, I'm digesting all the 'souvenir' music that goes round and round in my head. Sweet Tassie tunes learned from oldsters who learned it from oldsters. That means during the convict era. Old. And, modern tunes from folks who I met through sessions and music groups. Note to self: must write about this more and get some workshop-able content ready to go.

Then, there's some old American musicians that were gifts to me from my southern hemisphere friends - Ernie Carpenter (yep), Benton Flippen, Gene Goforth (thanks Charlie!!!!), Clyde Curley and the Oxymorons, Harvey Sampson, Joe Thompson, Hobart Smith. I learned so much about them because my Australian and New Zealand friends introduced me to my own culture. If one can even 'own' a culture. As if.

I should be back to some regular postings soon. I'm all wired up with hill of festival and jam recordings just ripe for the picking. Time for a bowl of popcorn and some mp3 editing.