Provo, UT
Last night’s show in Logan was perfect. I am already starting to grow quite fond of Utah. Everyone I meet is so friendly. Trusting. Open. Innocent. Sweetly naive. Unjaded.

It is hard to shift my gears. Hard to set aside my cynicism. I can feel my loaded guns shaking and quaking and ready to explode with sarcasm and face-punching wit…. and I have to keep pulling my finger away from the trigger and NOT fire away…

Despite some weirdness here in Provo (gentlemen, I am flattered, but I have no interest in your pre-teen wives) I’m making some lifelong friends here. It feels good to be out here… thank you Stepford…

Logan, Utah…
This is my first time ever playing in Utah… there is something rather precious and sweet about a first night in any place. I remember the first night I set foot in India, rode in to New Delhi from the airport on a 10pm bus… walked straight into the darkness and chaos and smell of piss everywhere… I took the advice of a girl I met on the bus ride. She swore this particular hotel was amazing and cheap. Cheap it was… $1 for the night. It turned out to be the dingiest, skankiest, sketchiest place I’ve ever slept. Bugs and roaches crawling around. A stained mattress (with no sheets or pillows or blankets) sitting in a metal frame. Pulsating, shimmering, florescent lights that barely lit the room. A broken padlock hinge to keep the door closed. The bathroom was worse. I ended up staying awake the whole night on that first night in New Delhi.

Logan was the name of my boyhood dog. The best dog ever. I was about 15 years old. He was a black collie with a white crown around his chest. Smarter than any dog in the world. Loved him more than anything in the world. Funny how a word or memory from your past can give you preconceived, prejudged bias. I can’t not love you, Logan. Who’s the good boy?

Rocky Mountains… coming back through towards Utah. Still no snow. Another lucky break. It occurred to me, I have never driven in the snow. Never had to put chains on a car. Never had to worry about it. I’m getting used to all the scenery and open space. I can see what makes people want to be here. If they just had a huge ocean and beach and sunshine weather all year long, I would definitely move here….

these last few nights have been grande… this part of the tour, I overlapped with Mike on a few dates, opening some of his shows, and it feels like we haven’t skipped a beat since July… it’s just been fun hanging out and catching up from the summer. after all the isolation and solo drive-time so far, it is a pleasant and welcome change of pace.

at each hotel, I’ve been leaving little treats and surprises here and there… like this toilet paper love connection (insert photo of two toilet paper rolls with eyes looking at each other)… I am not sure why I do these things. maybe knowing that someone will get a tiny spark of happy joy in their day is all that matters… paying it forward…. a simple, cheap thrill just to amuse myself while giving some sunshine to a stranger, to try and make a difference… one cleaning lady at a time…

Drive day today…. as warned, the gigantic storm has hit and the rain has started her pounding. I am happy to get over Donner Pass without any snow. I made it all the way to Winnemucca. Yes, the Winnemucca Kid has returned. I can’t believe there isn’t a party or ticker tape parade through the city for me.

When I was 8 years old, our family took a summer vacation trip, one of those long drive trips that ensures there will be lots of family bonding. We stopped in Winnemucca at a rest stop and I had to go to the bathroom extremely… urgently. The boy’s bathroom was occupied, so I hustled into the girls’ side. I think this was my first time getting to peek inside the awesome mystery of what is in the girl’s bathroom.

After a minute, some women came in. I was horrified and didn’t know what to do. I was petrified and trapped and decided to continue hiding in the stall and remained silent as they gabbed and chatted… and pee’d… for what seemed like an eternity… more women came in… some left… I couldn’t dare leave and let them see me or know I had broken in… to the forbidden other side.

Finally, after several waves of incoming women, the coast was clear, and I ran out. My family waiting in the car with the engine running… “Where have you been?? We thought you were lost!” For some reason, my dad decided it was the most hilarious moment in the history of the Miller family tree, and laughed and laughed… for the entire trip… and would from that moment on, re-tell this classic tale of me being held captive in the girl’s bathroom. For the next couple years, I was known as “The Winnemucca Kid.”

Chico, CA……………. I’ve been dowsing myself in tea and honey all day… trying all the concoctions and healing ointments and recommended voodoo…. carrying with me a honey bear to suck mouthfuls of straight honey… anything to try and speed up the recovery of my throat. It is such a hard and frustrating thing, being at the mercy of nature and reality, and realizing I am not invincible.

My beautiful friends, Rebecca and Bill, brought me here for this show tonight… they are so good to me… they just take such good care of me and I am a spoiled and fortunate son.

I tried to pretend nothing was wrong, and plowed through the radio interview… without voice… whispered all my answers, played album tracks instead of a live performance… it was quite horrid…

Naturally, the show tonight was live-streamed and viewed by millions… a horrid disaster as I fought hard to make my voice go where it refused to go… the entire night just crashed and burned and felt like a herd of wild buffalo all running off a cliff, tumbling down one after another, each blindly following to its death… the harder I tried to make things right, the worse it got, and my voice would not obey…