I’m sitting in the beautiful home of Jack’s best friend Brett and his girlfriend Amanda while trying to find inspiration for an epic blog. But you know what they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. So I guess this will be worth three thousand words. And I would put pictures of everyone but this is my blog, so it’s all Nitzan.

Back in Philadelphia. Trying to elevate the game here by raising these blog postings to new levels of literacy and relevance. Failing.

Four dates in with the Routes now, and somehow we’ve always been about 45 minutes behind schedule. Circumstance then seems to tear us apart after shows, night after night, and I feel like the new chimp who has yet to be fully accepted by the tribe, still waiting for my chance to beat one of the other juveniles to death with a bone or piece of wood in front of the others, to get that bite on the back of the neck that I just made up but could, in some ape communities, signify acceptance.

We played in Manayunk tonight, a suburb of Philadelphia that was described to us as “sort of an open-air halfway house for recent college graduates who aren’t quite ready for the real world.” We estimated that Grape Street had at least three and a quarter metric tonnes of door security, in the form of countless 1/8 to 1/4 tonne bouncers scattered throughout the club, as well as a bathroom attendant who gave several of us stage fright and is probably indirectly responsible for the persistent urine smell we experienced on our way to and from the parking lot.

But what of the men, you ask? The Speechwriters themselves, how are they holding up? The answer is: fine, for the most part. Nitzan got his phone stolen in New York and is not a happy camper. Jack got a bunch of new clothes and is quietly but firmly elevating our fashion profile in ways we can only begin to understand. Misha’s been getting his mind blown left and right by the writings of Ray Kurzweil and the curveballs life seems to be throwing us all as we approach week six of the tour.

My story is the least exciting by far. I’ve become addicted to a video game from 1987. Jack got a Nintendo emulator for his PSP, and woe unto him that walks willingly into that great, dark wood. I’m not going to say which game it is, but I will say that it involves ogres and gauntlets and I’m just as horrified as you are that I can’t seem to put the damned thing down. The less said about this portion of my life, the better…I can only hope that I find the remaining three power orbs in the next couple of days, so I can stop viewing my world in terms of vitality and experience points and be done with this forever.

This is all so uncool. I’m probably going to get fired for this.

tonight my best friend’s sister got married..
i don’t really have anything profound to say about the institution of marriage, but i do know that it’s going to be really weird to call her boyfriend her husband.. will it be weird for her to call her boyfriend her husband? (when she introduces him at a party, won’t that be a weird thing to say.. “hi, i’m natalie, this is my husband tony”..) i wonder how long it takes for it all to become totally natural..

regardless, CONGRATULATIONS NAT AND TONY!! (sorry for yelling. i’m excited)