Here' a small, stream-of-consciousness report. I'll try not to objectify.

It was so great to see Dallas was on. It was also great to see Austin was a go.

Things started with Peter Dawes. In Dallas, he sounded off his game in "Boogie Shred," like the right and hands were not in synch. The sound was muddy. He sounded way better in Austin. "Purple Rain" didn't do much for me, but I like "Tight, Trite Night." The chords remind me of the Fixx' "Save by Zero." He makes "Somebody That I Used to Know" look so easy.

As for Justin, of course he looks good. He hasn't had a bad hair day since the '80s. He wore sneakers with silver Adidas-style stripes both nights. Julie continues to do cool things with her hair and wear shabby-chic. She walks with ease on cruel shoes and harmonizes fabulously with Justin.

By the way, I like the color of the new Justin Hayward T-shirts. I think it corresponds to a vitamin deficiency because I could almost eat it.

I'm going by an out-of-order set list I found online. The first songs were done rather well, as I recall. It was only for about the last four that his voice started grinding. It was painful to hear. All the drive back to work (haven't been home yet), I was thinking I should have stood up and begged him to sing an octave lower, transpose everything down, or just talk. I think his fans would understand if he took preservation measures. Besides, I really, really love it when he sings low.

Justin was straining so much on "Your Wildest Dreams" I forgot to clap both nights. I realized it after awhile, and in Dallas I gave polite applause, but in Austin when I came to, I thought, "No. I won't applaud him hurting himself like that." I'd rather watch him sip cough syrup. Really. Coat that throat. Gwen Stefani had some advice here. Nuff said.

Another weirdness was the sampling. In the previous solo shows, "YWD" was soft and gentle, and really nice. This time, there was a sample that went 1 SET 3 & 4 &. It was sooooo aggravating and nonconforming. On the way back home, though, I heard similar vocal rhythm samples that sounded just as bad in other recordings. I suppose it is the new thing. (In a similar vein, I was thinking about the first kids that came home in cowboy boots and cowboy hats. Mom and Dad surely said, "Where did you get those things! Take them back!")

I didn't cry for "The Western Sky" either time. That's new. It bothered me that Justin mentioned twice that the window wasn't there anymore. Was he speaking metaphorically or literally? Did somebody remodel the house, or is the vision gone? This matters to me because the imagery was more compelling than you could possibly know. I was thinking how poets provide the dots for people to connect in infinite ways. As I've said before, Justin really nailed some of the visions in my mind with those words and it hurts to think of shattering the window, like breaking a dream.

Justin talked more about the pop-star house. He said he and his girlfriend lived in just one room of it at first. That was funny because that's how I house sit.

Justin repeated his line about girlfriends of guitar players having to listen to tuning. Tuning never bothered me. It's playing out-of-tune instruments that does. Justin added the girls would need to have a place, too. Like who (besides me sleeping at work or in my car most of the time) doesn't have a place?

"In Your Blue Eyes" continues to mystify. In Dallas, I thought, "This is surely about infant mortality." In Austin, I thought, "This is clearly not about infant mortality." My best hypothesis now is it is about three people. I honestly have no clue.

Justin does pretty well on "The Eastern Sun." I'm still not convinced he doesn't have help with the "woooo" part (as in, "Are you with me, Dr. Wu?").

Justin asked for help from the audience with "Question." That was fun, but my voice probably cracked worse, plus I sing with a stinkin' American accent. Justin asked Julie for help with "Forever Autumn." She did good filling in as needed. "I love you, Julie," said Justin after one song. "I love you, too, Mike."

A cool thing is Justin keeps saying he loves this one or that one. It's so cute, so positive. He and Alberto love each other very much. He loves Marty Wilde, etc., etc.

I really like the way the instruments sound and blend with "One Lonely Room." Julie pedals each chord. What a multitasker. The words are really downer, making this one of those bittersweet songs you don't want to enjoy because they make you think the performer is hurting.

"The Wind of Heaven" is a hybrid. It's got great chord progressions reminiscent of Chopin's Prelude in C Minor, Opus 28, Number 21. (I had to look that up. It is perhaps better known as Barry Manilow's "Could It Be Magic.") But it is half connective tissue. I like music where every note counts. I was thinking today I'd like to rearrange the boring parts just for kicks. HOWEVER, the song made me cry, too, and that's what counts. So, technically it has a duty cycle of only 50%, but when it's on, it's full-throttle. The words were nice, talking about wisdom and such. The instruments blended beautifully here, too.

Mike has some nice timbres going on his guitar. Both nights, he called attention to the guitar tech, Chris. He teased saying Chris begged him to do that thing where he's acknowledged. Thereafter, in Austin, whenever Chris came out, one would hear random shouts of "Chris" from guys throughout the theater. One time, Justin kept turning around as Chris chased him with a lead. It was rather slapstick.

Another time, Justin asked Steve if they were lighting their backdrop. He said they were rather proud of it, and they should be. How did they print something so big?

Oh, there's much, much, more; but you must buy a ticket to find out.

Driving back to the ranch, I got two speeding citations before I got out of Texas. Then, I lost my keys at the gas station and fortunately had a spare after a futile hour search. Visibility was near-zero in Knoxville, and traffic was one delay after another. The final delay, right where an escaped horse had stopped traffic on my return from a previous Moodies tour, was a truck on fire.

I thought we were zippering-in, and I was in the lane we were supposed to be in, so I let a semi go in front of me, but three cars then bumper-to-bumpered in front. The guys behind me got mad and pulled in front on the shoulder. About 300 people got in front of me before one chivalrous knight in a white sedan yielded the right of way to me. It's like the grocery store checkout lines. People just cut in front and act like I'm some kind of weirdo who goes to the store to hold groceries behind the lines.

So, right when I got up to the truck, something else exploded. The pulse of heat reminded me of "War of the Worlds." The good news is, my headlights waited until I was back here before they blew.

Yes. That is what I said. A "thimg."

I just finished washing my hair. Was it ever dirty.

A couple people asked me to write reviews. I balk, as getting older I realize how terrible my writings are and how psycho my impressions. I'm not exactly smart enough to analyze the music, but here are some schizo comments:

I question my sanity when I plan to go to concerts. It is so much money, so much time - not the concerts, but getting there. Traffic has been horrendous lately, and my car is currently dead. But then after the first show, I feel I'm where I belong, all is copacetic, and the long stretches of highway seem to take on meaning.

I can't explain the phenom. Justin's music/personality/aura put me at peace. I get lost in the music. At the last show, a member of the audience captured the feeling. The band quit playing in between numbers, and a dude yelled out to Justin something, I can't remember exactly, like, "Don't stop. It returns us to reality."

The arrangements are superb, now. After Alan jetted, I was no fan of the arrangements. Julie's taste in music was more raw and edgy than mine, and I didn't think it blended well with Justin's style. Now, everything is smooth and professional. Julie does an amazing job. Sometimes she sings, plays percussion, and does two hands in different timbres on the keyboard while operating foot pedals - all in cruel shoes. Her voice blends well with Justin's, and she does well with melody, color, and technique. "Wind of Heaven" has turns and glissandos and parts that remind me of "Morning" from Peer Gynt, which she executes with technical precision. I never tried to play her keyboard, but I on occasion play one that I suppose (perchance erroneously) is similar in terms of touch sensitivity. It's feast or famine on the volume, so I really appreciate how Julie keeps the volume so controlled. I'm usually where I only see the bottom of the keyboard, but one weirdness is she seems to play several melodies with her left hand. The annoying "SET" in "YWD" was reduced to a tolerable volume in later shows, much to my glee.

Mike does well, of course. At one show, a security guard came out from backstage to watch. Sometimes he's more Nigel Kennedy-esque than others, but it's all good. The acoustics in the venues have been very good, and it is a treat to hear how he manages waves. I'm glad he replaced "Purple Rain" with "Tight Trite Night," but I find the "Smoke on the Water" and drum solo non-sequitur.

At the last show, things were getting goofy. Chris and Brian (?) put something on Mike's mic before the show and aimed at it with their cell phones. I thought they had added some kind of sensor microphone or something and were calibrating it with an app. As it turned out, it was a small hand, which must have been some kind of private joke. During the drum solo, Chris strobed a flashlight on Mike.

Mike was also complaining about England. Udo introduced it as the loneliest country (?). Mike called his countrymen idiots and urged members of the audience to meet him at the merch table so he could get as many American dollars as possible. He would be throwing in a free English pound with each CD. At an earlier show, as things were ramping up in England, he said he might not want to spend his two months of vacation home with family and friends anymore, depending on how the vote would go.

He was especially flippant the last night. Then, as at other shows, he interacted well with the audience, which he said he couldn't see for the lights. He gave people coming late a hard time. Once, he said four times, "Late people," as he waited for a few to find their seats. Another time, he followed a couple ladies walking across the front with his guitar, much to their oblivion.

I really like the way Mike handles IKYOTS. When I was crunched to take a redeye, and everybody was saying we needed to get to the airports three hours early, I risked getting there only half an hour early or so because I had to hear that guitar at the end, where he makes the bubble noises and knocks the whammy bar for a loop. I most like the choice of timbre.

The last show was kind of strange. I felt more like an outside observer rather than as if I were basking in the spirit. The acoustics were incredible, and I hung onto every note, as if in slow motion. Justin was staring at somebody or something in the back of the auditorium, much like I like to stare at him, I guess. I got jealous, wishing I could be that kind of fan instead of a creepy clown, but I was happy he was happy, and I like him too much to blame him for my psychoses and all. At one point, Justin looked at me and shook his head no, as if saying, "I don't know what you're thinking, but whatever it is, the answer is no." Just ouch.

Justin's voice was strong and quite amazing for the most part. There were some points of struggling. Julie filled in beautifully and seamlessly. We all got to sing, "I'm looking for a miracle in my life," when he cued us, but my voice was still cracked in the highest ranges, so I wasn't any help.

His hair is always perfect, and his eyes are to die for. I won't freak out over his fretwork, as he was just strumming. I didn't notice any innovative technique, but I didn't expect any. His art form is, to me, evoking spiritual transformation, elevating the emotions, and there is nothing I would rate more important. When he interacted with the audience this tour, he showed concern and was always sharing words of love. It made me appreciate how amazing he is to dedicate his whole life to love and kindness, to make beautifully transfiguring music. And I'm down here just trying to pay bills.

I say I go in trance at the shows. I forget the cares of the world and let the spirit of the music wash over me. It tingles my spine, softens my heart, and enlivens my mind. Justin is so lovely, I can't put it in words. Some songs make me cry. I think I've heard "The Western Sky" live three times without crying so far. It is just beautiful. "Wind of Heaven" made me cry a few times, too; and "The Eastern Sun" and "Nights in White Satin" got to me once, also.

Sometimes it's the words. They trigger images of spiritual experiences or escapes in my own life. The chord changes are inspiring, and the overall smoothness of the presentations, with Justin's hauntingly beautiful voice, make the best music anywhere.

At one of the shows, lots of us waited by the buses after the show. It was, after all, the "Stage Door" tour. Justin was kind enough to come out the stage door this time, and he was super nice and waving at all the fans. My heart could have burst for joy. That night, the show was so amazing, so full of love and good vibes, I couldn't wait to write it all down when I got back. But by the end of the tour, I couldn't remember a single thing about it.

There was the photo op thing. I had noticed a blurb on the venue's web site a day before leaving town. I inquired what that "meet and greet when available" was about, but they did not know. They said they would send an email that day or the next. I didn't get an email, so I showed up at 5:00 p.m., and they gave me the lowdown. There would be a photo op for the first twenty people with a platinum pass. I said I was there, and asked if that didn't make me among the first. The lady and her son were sooo very nice, and she let me be #3 on a list.

At 6:00, the pre-show party started. The strawberries were the best. The lady with he raspberry beret went in through the in door, and luna and I tried to get her to do it right, but she ignored us. We lined up and waited. It seems the band only made the decision to do the meet and greet around 4:40. The photographer finally arrived (may have been out mowing the lawn or something when he got the call).

We waited behind a black curtain. When my turn arrived, it was like a refrigerator. Justin was prepared, all bundled in a coat and scarf. I could have done the supermodel thing with my hair had I known about the breeze. Instead, I had to watch the steps because I was wearing cruel shoes. When I got to the top, Justin gave me a kindly enough smile, but then Udo said, "Oh, no." Then, my heart sank. What did it mean other than I'm a creepy clown on the band's terrorist watch list, the brunt of jokes. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. KC had rolled her eyes when she saw me, too.

I really don't like playing wax museum. We were told we can't talk to, shake hands, get autographs, etc. I wanted to rap Justin on the head and ask if there was a real boy in there. I couldn't remember how Pinocchio came to life, but I wished I knew. Then again, I'm just a fan, and Justin seems to like people self-actualized enough to change society in one way or another.

As for me, it was a semi-sleepless jaunt the last time around, having to catch five hours of a county commissioner meeting, which luna was kind enough to let me do on her computer. I managed to put my chin in some poison ivy or something. I had a rash that was weeping and oozing beyond anything makeup could cure. Then, running to my car for my jacket, I took a spill in the road. Every day was a bad hair day, as I recall. The trees (including palmettos) and clouds and flowers were powerfully gorgeous, but I do enjoy being back in summer temperatures.

At one show, it occurred to me that the problem with the last few concerts was not the stage lights setting up strange diffraction patterns on my contact lenses so much as me having them in the wrong eyes. I therefore tried swapping them out, while seated in the auditorium, and dropped one. Maggie, Annie, a guy with a flashlight, and a security guard with a flashlight managed to find it for me. (Shout out.) I put it in and lived happily after, in the vision department at least.

Now, it's back to the glum real world of sitting around to get a pay check. The boss was kind enough to let me borrow his car to go to the airport when mine wouldn't crank. Now, I must tend to that, taxes, medical bills, and all that fun stuff. No fun.

I wrote messily. KC rolled her eyes another time when I was at the stage door after a concert. There were other people around, but I got the eye roll. At the flash-n-dash/shoot-n-scoot, I was too a-skeered to get my bearings. There were shadows of people against the light. I only recognized Udo because he spoke.

Justin was bundled up like a snowman with a scarf and a jacket I did not recognize. I think it was a light color. He was wearing gray dress pants (with a pressed pleat) and his sneakers with the silver Adidas stripes as I recall. I caught that much before, through the curtain. I remember wondering if the scarf was the same one he wore during a freezy outdoor concert (somewhere). That one was plaid, mostly white with touches of red. I remembered wishing I would have dressed similarly. We will know what he was wearing if the photos show up. Then, we'll see how bad my memory is.

I will take the blame for Justin looking at the back of the venue and ignoring all the good people up front. When I get rich, I'll hire a shrink to help me with my creep factor, but I'll probably be all decayed by then and really creepy.

I can't recall any dandelions just now. I liked the two palmettos. That was impressive. I asked a lady how she kept hers alive, and she said it was there when they moved in, and it is just happy there. I enjoyed bright flowers, thinking the West Coast has saturated colors, and we have pastels. I also appreciated how the flowering bushes were as tall as the homes. I loved the tall, deciduous trees contrasted in sunlight against the pines, which I said have droopy boughs in your part of the country.

I'd love to meet the band, but worrying about where their hotel is remains out of my league. I've talked to dozens of people who have stories about how Justin initiated warm and friendly conversations with them in hotels. I is-pose the band appreciates the attention of proper fans, folks who do feel like family on the road, who can talk shop, etc. I can't even sit with my hands folded at a concert and watch the lead singer without getting on a security detail. Yes. Many times, I have had security guards hovering over me like I'm going to rush the stage.

It's not security's fault. I touched Justin's glove one night when he was greeting fans at the stage door, and then in Cherokee, when he tried to sneak out behind Alan, I grabbed his hand to shake it. It wasn't any different from the way other people interact, except were in the loop, I would have known Justin does not like to be touched by fans. Then, there was the show in England about fifteen years ago where I heard a sound check in the lobby and tried to go upstairs for a view. A couple guards escorted me back down. I've waited in bars for band members to arrive, but that was always with fans in good standing and at their initiative. One time, I took a nap until everybody was ready to leave again. In Texas, I followed the bus down a long stretch of highway - until I needed to stop for gas - but they pulled in front of ME. I followed it another time to a toll booth, where it was stopped. I wondered if I should give them some American change, but chickened out and left them in their dilemma. Worst of all, when I was in Nice, I did photo reconnaissance with View from the Hill CD cover. Perchance Justin and Marie watched me out their window as I aligned distant trees and mountains. I was told they lived in a gated community, so I didn't expect to land on their doorstep, did I? Then again, I've given Justin flowers and letters full of psychobabble. And I wonder why I'm on tight security detail??????

We can add to that my ill-fitting '80s clothes, my hair perfectly coiffed and then uncurled and tangled with a skull dent after five hours of sweat and wind, and a quarter inch of makeup insufficiently hiding acne and misplaced facial features, mini dresses that show off all my scars and scabs! Oh, children, don't do what I dun!

OK. Nuff about MEEEEEEE. Let's talk about the band.