Look, I know what you're thinking: Did he shoot five bullets or six? Oops wrong movie.

OK, maybe what you're thinking is either:

• 'Where's my CD?' Or even,
• 'What the heck are you on about, mate?'

It's simple really. This record (yes, it's still a 'record' even though there haven't been records in twenty years) was supposed to be available last autumn. In fact, the adjoining photograph was taken one morning as I was discussing how the thing was to be released. I refer you to Exhibit A -- the Bird Of Paradise plants are drying out; clearly indicating it's October 2005. But then my right arm (Exhibit B) got other ideas.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I'm sitting on a stage in Madison, WI. minding my own business, playing Open Your Eyes Part II from Compartments. I send a brief note down to my picking hand to get ready to start picking 'really funky like'. And I get no response. I look at my arm. With a complete lack of civility, my arm fails to acknowledge my existence; let alone obey my instruction to Play That Funky Music, White Boy. Since the show must go on, I summoned years of show biz savvy and immediately did what any pro would do: 'Audience Sing-Along!' Somehow, I got through the gig, got paid and got out with my life. Not sure, how, exactly but I'm assuming like any horrible trauma, my brain has repressed the memory in order to save my sanity.

I've spent the intervening time taking drugs (and no not the entertaining kind), having surgery, doing physical therapy and generally trying to figure out what's going on. The current conclusions are that it's a combination of fibromyalgia, arthritis and repetitive stress that had been building for a loooong time. What happens with musicians is that, you spend so many years developing the muscles to play that you can pretty much be on auto-pilot and keep going even though 'under the hood' a lot of things are slowly falling apart. In other words, if I hadn't practised ten hours a day all those years ago, I might've noticed something was wrong a lot sooner. On the other hand, if I hadn't practised ten hours a day all those years ago, I mightn't have gotten injured in the first place!

In any event, that's how I spent my year. Instead of touring to support Balance and finishing up Home, I've been largely incognito---visible at only the toniest Drs. offices, hospitals and outpatient clinics.

So where are we now? Well, I'd like to say that, thanks to fresh air, good food and the love of Jesus I have been cured, but that just ain't the case. It is manageable. Still working on being able to play complete shows, so I'm not quite ready to get back 'on the road again' but I am able to get Home in the can and I am planning on getting some shows together to test drive the new me.

I want to thank everyone who has sent their support. It means a lot. I fully intend to be back as soon as possible and when I am I plan on shaking every one's hand with my completely rejuvenated right hand.

Thanks for stopping by.