dear mike doughty,

it’s been ages since i’ve sat and really listened to your music. too many memories tied up in your voice, a lot of times it was just kinda painful. but i am stronger now and i can listen with remorseless glee.

i’m listening to the “only answer” tonight. it’s on repeat along with joe jackson’s “is she really going out with him,” leona naess’ “i tried to rock but you only roll,” and that dog’s “minneapolis.”

mike, there’s all kinds of schmutz in the jellyjar i am drinking hi-c fruit punch from. i am trying not to think about it, but it’s still sorta giving me the willies.

it’s weird to be calling you mike. you were always the elusive and sexxy m. doughty from soul coughing. soul coughing, the one band that i nearly discovered on my own. i discovered them early too, i am still quite proud of that fact.

soul coughing is smoky bars and unattainable boys. soul coughing is meaningful pixels and adventure. i once dated a boy only because he knew who soul coughing was and i foolishly thought that was enough.

so i’m sitting here late on a wednesday night when i should be making a pasta salad for the potluck. but i can’t chop veggies when your voice is ringing in my ears. my family has already reached the loss of fingers quota for the week.

instead i sit here and listen, enraptured again. like i was all those years ago when you were nothing but that guy who sang the crazy counting song. but the voice, it’s so entrhalling, captivating and amazing.

i’ve missed you something fierce mike. i’m glad you’re coming around again. sadly i missed you for rufus and now i must endure my karmic payback because your show coming up is all sold out.

so mike, you know you could give me the hook up, i wouldn’t mind.

goodnight mud by the thousands,
jodi