I have heard hardly a thing about Justin's UK tour. I've been flashing back to England. Lyrics from songs and things Justin has said and done kept resurfacing in my mind; particularly "The Western Sky" and "Sur la Mer." Today at church I snapped out of a daydream and started paying attention, and then I wanted to go back to that memory I was reliving that felt so good. What was it? Oh, yeah. Justin.

So, I hope Justin is well and well-received and all. I hope to always remember the words he said in time. He's always been so gracious and loving in his interviews. If memories are what I am, I am so much better for his influence.

Thank you, I say with a mushed face exuding glee.

I always thought it was, and have been disappointed it doesn't get any better. I tap out at Justin Hayward concert level. Then again, peeps say love is service, and I haven't done much of that lately.

Yeah, but I don't have the musical insights other fans do. I just go and stare instead of analyzing nonharmonic contributions to timbre mixes and kurtotic drift in wave forms as a function of deltas in fundamental-frequency amplitude; exploring the impact of natural and clinically-enhanceable musculature on richness and body in intonation to the nearest tenth of a percent with a confidence interval of no less than 96 percent; doing comparative studies of techniques of five major recording artists to interpolate the abilities of classical masters and extrapolate to capabilities of the musicians of the future to improve the human equation along twenty-six axes of awareness. I go and bask in the love and good vibrations, giving nothing back except maybe heartburn for Udo who has to do do double duty because I look so unstable.

Most importantly, I am not worthy. I don't have the celestial vocabulary or mechanical understanding of how Justin pulls down waves of heaven every night.

So, yeah. I'm back. Seventeen hours of overnight driving was worth this dizzy, vomitous after effect - the road kept moving every time I stopped for gas, and winter returned as the ascent back up the mountain began. More importantly, I should be more considerate of Justin and apply what little mind I have to whether or not it is conscionable to continue blacking out a portion of his audiences with my absence of spiritual beauty. In my wildest of dreams, I wish I could be a normal fan, bringing light and joy to the world. (P.S., this subducted sternum, self-inflicted while climbing a playground slide, is easing the relative pain of the Post Moody Blues. It's kind of funny how I almost entirely forgot about it at the shows.)

The fans were all very nice and fun. Justin was beyond awesome. I can't complain about Mike and Julie. The Houston show made paradise look/sound/feel weak in comparison. How good was it? It was so good, in a unique moment, Julie lost control of the keyboard volume, and she and Mike fell out of rhythm for a couple measures, but it was all fun because the twin disaster didn't even register to faze the ecstasy of the mood. Gotta get back to work.