You lie. That's what I said to Joe.

My dearest friend:

So, THIS is why I don’t like to tell you about tours until we’re actually in the car and on our way, and new releases until they’re manufactured and ready to be shipped from the distributor (or, more appropriately, until they’re uploaded to the internet for less-than-legal downloading). Those east coast dates we were planning in celebration of my 69th birthday? Not happening. You can return the gifts. We shelved the dates yesterday. Joe lives to make a liar of me. You may have seen hints of this cancellation if you’re following the new cult (does four followers constitute a cult?) hit twitter show “Pernice to Me.” It’s too bad really, because one day, when Joe was actually speaking to me, he told me he was planning in this next round of shows, to do all those songs you always ask for that he’ll never play. Bastard.

Anyway, bad news for east coasters (now you know what it feels like to be a Pernice fan in say Dublin or Chile) is good news for everyone else (except, arguably, me and my neighbors) because James, Menck, Bob and Joe will descend on Ashmont World HQ (Charlie’s house, where I also live) in November/December to complete the record they started last year, though it seems like they started it right around the time a certain Greek technocrat from Massachusetts let himself be photographed in a tank. (That gives me a cover idea.) We didn’t have a choice, since it’s difficult to get on James’ dance card these days, and this is the only time he’s available (James – I don’t care how big a star you are, you still have to share the sofa bed with Menck when you get here. This is no Knights Inn). We also feel bad about tearing Menck away from his lovely wife at Thanksgiving, but not that bad, because honestly, we’re kind of doing her a favor. I will of course live tweet the proceedings until such time as I am asked to leave my own house.

We don’t actually know what this record IS yet – whether it’s a follow-up to Live a Little or something else entirely. And when I say “we,” I mean Joe, because I haven’t heard any of it yet, though if I had, I would certainly have an opinion, as you can imagine. I suppose I could walk up to the third floor, turn the machines on and do a little mixing. Joe would like that. But it’s a long, lonely walk up to the third floor, and I generally get distracted by something shiny before I make it up there.  At any rate, I expect it’ll see the light of day in the first half of 2010. 

In the meantime, I want to remind you that Sept. 30 is the deadline for tweeting a review of Joe’s book It Feels So Good When I Stop so that you might win a Kindle. So far, there are some good ones, and there are also some comprised of such vile, contemptible nonsense, they make me wonder on what planet you spend most of your time. And can I come visit?

The prize will be a new Kindle, loaded with 10 of Joe’s favorite books. (I expect this will mean a lot of Jonathan Coe and B.S. Johnson.) There are no rules, save those imposed by Twitter’s format – 140 characters, less the 7 you’ll use to put “Pernice” in there somewhere so I can find it (very important). You can write as many of them as you want. You can just read the reviews, which I posted here – http://www.joepernice.com/press/– and steal liberally if you like. Plagiarism is the new creativity.

Also, just FYI, Joe has decided NOT to run for the Senate seat vacated by the late, great Ted Kennedy. He’d have to move back to the States, and that would mean giving up his health coverage from Canada. He’s not willing to do it. I will also decline to seek that seat, since I can’t win. In Massachusetts, we don't elect women to the Senate. Progressive my ass.

My personal projects? Thanks for asking. I am going to wash the curtains and have my gutters cleaned (not a euphemism).

That’s it for now. You guys are kind to stick it out with us, as we’ve seldom offered anything more than disappointment.

Your faithful servant,

Joyce in Dorchester

 

Personal to -

Mark in Philadelphia: Sorry, I won’t be coming, You’ll have to avoid me without my help.

Tom in Hamilton: Oh, you’re adorable! Does your wife know how adorable you are?

Mike in Nashville: That’s precisely the kind of defeatism we embrace here at Ashmont, and we’re proud to have you as a member of what we like to think of as our extended family.

Jen in Seattle: I wish we were friends in real life too! You do live far away though, don’t you?

Jim in DC: I also feel privileged to be living in the personal renaissance of your social networking age, even though I have NO idea what you’re trying to say.

(That’ll teach you people to write to me!)