OK, so last week I wrote a new song, and as I read South by Southwest, a Roadmap to Alternative Country by Brian Hinton I wonder if there really is a place in this world for my music. It's not rock (I don't even know how I would write a rock song), it's not country (especially not Nashville), it's not folk (closer than country, though), and don't even go near jazz or anything like that. It's usually just me with my guitar, singing poorly about stuff nobody else cares about.

Actually last week someone cared. Cared enough to come over to my room at the retreat center and give me the thumbs down. Maybe that was just because it was after 11:00 pm and I was keeping him awake with all that racket. I suppose I would most want to end up classified as alt country, but that might be simply because that's the kind of music my brother likes most.

Anyway, I actually wrote two songs, one called Wade in the Water and the other called Built on the Rock. I get a funny feeling that Built on the Rock was already written by someone somewhere else, but I swear I wrote it myself. That one was really an assignment for the Appalachia Service Project -- "Built on the Rock" is the theme for this year's service project. It's really kind of predictable in its lyrical content. Wade in the Water is, I'd like to think, a little more original. I'm most proud of the line "Sweet Lord Jesus in your Hazmat suit, come and heal us from the pain." A lyrical genius, that's what I am...