Question: Can I meet you after your show?

Answer: Yes please! I would love to chat with you, and to sign whatever (within hygienic boundaries) you like. Plus I am always up for a photo, as long as you promise not to make a goofy face.

Question: Would you like to get together for lunch or dinner before your show, or maybe to go to the zoo or a rodeo or something?

: I would love to, but I'm always way too nervous about my pending performance. (Having said that: if your zoo offers a rodeo option... ) 


Question: Would you like to go someplace after your show?

Answer: Again, I would love to, but I'm invariably way too exhausted after I get off stage to go a-galavanting out-on-the-town, for the simple reason that I always give 100% (unless, of course, I have a second show later that evening). 

Question: When will you play my city?

Answer: I have no idea -- but I'm happy to assure you that I play just about everywhere, eventually.

Question: When you do finally play my city, how can I know?

Answer: The instant I get a gig, I proudly post it onto the "upcoming shows" section of my website, like a pet cat leaving a dead bird outside the door, or a ghost cat leaving a live one. I also post on X (Twitter) and Instagram, which, sadly, are not always the most reliable fount of information: once an Instagram friend told me that a posting -- which would have alerted him to a performance not a nine hour's drive of his own backyard -- had somehow slipped past him. To avoid the bitter tears, let alone the eternal self-recrimination, of finding out, only-too-late, that I have just played your metropolis, I suggest you request an Emo-Philiac Proximity Warning; but even that might not work, if your spam filter is over-vigilant. In summation, it would be a small miracle were you to learn of my presence in your vicinity. But I won't give up if you don't.