Back again with more adventures. I think most everyone would agree that the FISHER TOUR diary exhausted most of the day to day routines of solo (solo) touring, so I'm just going to do a quick overview of the week-and-a-half run.

I wanted to do one more pass through the more familiar cities by myself before I bring the band out, so I asked Marty "Little Big Man" Diamond book a few things where the friendlies are. This, I am proclaiming, shall be the last solo tour for awhile. Although I will always enjoy the inherent romanticism of one man against the world, I have been doing it for the past six months and would like to expand the sonic palette a little. Plus, the solo travel is wearing on my posterior. Where's Damian with the Tuck's when you need him?

Speaking of the Sergeant of Rock, I had a nice catch-up with him via cell phone on the way to Boston. He sounds fine, happy and semi-resting at home after a grueling run with Vertical Horizon. For those of you who have been asking, yes; he still wears the paramilitary vest and, no, nobody knows exactly what's in those pockets.

Was it Monday? No, Tuesday last week I made the quick run down to Arlington for another show at Iota. Had the pleasure of opening for Emm Gryner, who is a sweetheart and a talented woman and, stop me, pretty hot. Not that I had time to notice, really. I was on and off the stage in a flash; 45 minutes came and went so quickly that I can barely remember the set. I do recall everyone being extremely courteous and quiet for the softer stuff. No one joined in for the group dancing I was trying to get going during Emm's set, though. I'd been practicing with that Madonna cowboy video all week, goddammit, but you would have thought I had leprosy by the way people wrestled me to the floor before dousing me with Canola oil. The drive home was sticky and hallucinogenic.

Wednesday brought overall grogginess and disorientation before soundcheck at Joe's Pub. A very nice venue, if you're ever in the City. I opened for two fellows called Citizen Cope- a better version of Everlast with deeper scowls and, wow, melodies. I began feeling woozy on stage, as if overcome with fever, but avoided falling over backwards and turned in an adequate performance. Afterwards, I went to bed early and proceeded to sweat out every drop of toxin that has gone into me for the past twenty years.

Thursday morning I awoke wrapped in sheets that smelled like formaldehyde and quickly prepared for a photo shoot for NYLON magazine. Met everyone at the car and we drove to Williamsburg. The photographer had borrowed a friend's loft- we spent three hours inside taking very manicured poses. I felt like an unshaven geisha girl, for some reason. Drank a beer on the roof with a few guys afterwards. Went to dinner with the folks from the Eliza Carthy Band, who were in town for some TV stuff. Avoided getting too "Scotch," unbelievably.

Set off for Anapolis at 8:00 Friday morning. Suzy, radio diva/guru from RCA, met me at the rental place- we had a nice drive to WRNR, a radio station in Anapolis. She bought the employees lunch. I played a few songs in their conference room (visualize the sex and glory of crooning it out as everyone munches on quesadillas), then taped some more stuff and an interview to be aired later.

The WRNR studios are on top of a candy store- Suzy bought two gorilla-sized pieces of fudge for us. After I dropped her off at the DC train station, I parked the car and kicked back with my Norman Mailer biography while eating enough of the leftover fudge to incur some kind of diabetic seizure. I quickly crashed and fell asleep. My step-brother, Ryan, found me prematurely wrinkled with a narcoleptic sneer a few hours later. We ate a quick dinner and went over to the 9:30 Club.

I soundchecked and retired to my one-man dressing room for a nice chat with Ryan. Also socialized with the Pete Yorn band, the opening act on the Semisonic tour. Nice fellows who play good music, all in need of a good shave. The set went really well- the rock crowd was awfully polite and well behaved, and the lighting guy, Groove, did an excellent job, rendering me in the likeness of Emm Gryner. A truly spectacular experience. I hung around for a few songs of Pete's set, then bid adieu to Ryan and hit the road back to NYC. I am almost certain I saw a 300 foot mongoose hanging from the Delaware Memorial Bridge, but I can't be sure. It is an underrated state, you know.

I slept in on Saturday. Took the car up for a spin through the Washington Heights neighborhood- it's the only cheap real estate left in Manhattan, and I may have to move soon. Unfortunately, it's got nothing on Brooklyn, so it looks as if I'll be heading across the river in the near future.

Drove back downtown for a nice lunch with Ethan, my new drummer. Made a futile attempt to navigate some choice neighborhoods in Brooklyn before hitting the LIE towards Plainview as the sun was beginning to set. Tonight's club, The Vanderbilt, turned out to be quite a surprise. It's an old catering hall that was a pleasure to play in. Another appreciative crowd, and another one-man dressing room, this one stocked with water and cans of beer. I took my liberties, hanging out for all of Pete's set and half of Semisonic's. Entertaining. After neutralizing myself with a few cups of coffee, I was back on the road and into the city around midnight. I parked the car and met up with Ethan, The Honey and friends for more unnecessary libation.

Sunday was.... Hmmm, pretty uneventful, except for a DVD rendering of Casablanca.

Monday I shot out of NYC on the beloved Merritt Parkway around 10:00. Made it into Boston for lunch with Paul Nelson, then headed over to WXVR to tape a show and interview. Took a nap in the parking garage before showing up at the Kendall Café for a long and rewarding set. It was nice to see Leigh Ann and Aoefa again; Aoefa has a new husband and baby boy, Leigh Ann a live-in boyfriend. Seems like yesterday they were showing Robbie, Damian and I around the town; now they're all grown up with baby-sitters. Good stuff. Afterwards, I was quickly back on the Mass. Turnpike with a big coffee and a few new song ideas to keep me humming.

Boy, this hasn't turned out to be a quick overview at all.

Tuesday afternoon was highlighted by the remarkable news that I will pay no income tax for 2000; looks like that $23,347.47 hair and manicuring deduction paid off. Glowing, I made it down to Philly in a flash. The kind folks at the Tin Angel treated me to dinner. After Todd Beauchamp's engaging opening set, I hit the stage for what turned out to be the best show of the tour. The place was sold out and the crowd was so attentive and cool I nearly wet my pants. The set was long and thorough- what an amazing feeling to get to mine so much repertoires and have folks singing along. I wish they could all be this enjoyable. Thanks and thanks again to Philly for an unforgettable evening.

Wednesday I contemplated starting a roof garden.

Not really, but nothing very earth shattering happened. I returned to Philadelphia on Thursday for the last show with Semisonic and, perhaps, my last solo appearance for awhile. I took a hotel room to celebrate the occasion and reward myself for the impressive state of abstinence I maintained for most of the tour.

After being shoved on stage a mere fifteen minutes after the doors opened, I treated a nice crowd of 378,000 to my "power rock" set. They were very accommodating, given that most of them were still buying Semisonic merchandise or ordering drinks. "Girl on A Roof" went down exceptionally well; I hope it will become a summertime anthem. A few of the faithful were in the crowd, too- thanks for the encouraging yelps and thrown undergarments.

I finally met the Semisonic guys afterwards. They were very nice and offered me all of their drugs and hookers for the night, as they were driving to Cleveland after the show. I graciously declined and watched their set from the bar area. Dan Wilson has a particularly affected hip swaying move that the girls seem to like; I wasn't entirely convinced that he wasn't imitating my walk after I exhausted the contents of my dressing room icebox. No hard feelings, Dan. I know you didn't mean it when you had the roadies hold me down in the back alley while you stole my striped socks and laughed like a hyena, either.

And on that note, another guerilla vigilante run ended. I awoke, bright and early, and hightailed it back to NYC to start brainstorming and rehearsing with my new bandmates, both of whom you readers of these soiled pages will meet shortly. The trio is on the way, folks; the fun starts in Pittsburgh on May 8.

As always, many thanks to the kind folks who listened, laughed along and signed the mailing list. I am looking forward to seeing you all again soon in my new, sonically expanded format. Keep telling your buddies about good music, especially mine. Love and hospitality to everyone.

Diggin' It,

DAVID