Fucked-Up Hand veterans tell me that they have uttered the following bitter sentence hundreds, no, thousands of times: "My hand was almost all better, & then I did something careless & sent myself back to square one."

I am saying it once. Believe me, I am crying over this. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel... I thought, wow, maybe just a couple more weeks & then I'll be clipping my fingernails, washing large pots & opening jar lids with the best of them! Now? I'm back to doing NOTHING. I prevailed upon the long-suffering good sport Donna to de-install my show for me. She brought it home & schlepped all the photos up the stairs to my studio. Those things are heavy!

I got to read through the comment book from the show. So many people from the South! It's kind of amazing. I have more to say about that but it's gonna have to wait till my hand gets a bit better.

Meanwhile, thanks to Michele K-Tel for helping me past the annoyingly inescapable media hype about Conor Oberst: there's actually some good music behind all that, including a song or two I could really use right now.