June 11th, 2000: We're recording at a place called Tiny Telephone. It's located in an industrial zone across from Mark Pauline and his Survival Research Laboratories (www.srl.org). It's already becoming apparent that due to loud explosions and robot wars that Take 1 will often turn into Take 122. Our engineer, John Croslin, is trying to keep the mouse population down but the little rascals have threatened to eat their way into our master tapes. It looks like they have the upper hand.

June 13th: On a day like today, one can only conjure up images of the skeptical architect with arms crossed and a long face with the occasional loud sigh in view of unfinished concrete pillars, metal rods, and a crew perpetually on lunch break.

June 14th: Inspiration has not yet come out of the closet.

June 15th: Halfway into today's session we heard a loud explosion then smelled something burning. The power supply to the 24 track fried thanks to Pacific Gas & Electric, California hippie politics, overpopulation, and 100 degree heat. Unfortunately, our art requires electricity.

June 22nd: We are not Boyz 2 Men, The Oak Ridge Boys, The Backstreet Boys, or any other "boys." Nor are we the Statler Brothers, the Mills Brothers or the Everly Brothers. But the mixing board was once used by the Pointer Sisters, and we were "so excited" because we finally recorded our first live multiple ON KEY harmonies as a group.

June 27th: Miles threatened to hit me over the head with a mic stand. This is going to be a long record.

July 2nd: It is becoming apparent that our visions of a truly orchestrated record by the use of large ensembles and choirs is a cheap fantasy but an expensive proposition. Thank god for the mellotron.

July 25th: Some things were tried, most failed. Mostly we talked about it, and did less of it.

July 26th: I tried some guitar sounds which inspired exactly no one.

July 31st: We're fighting more, of course, but now we make each other do sit-ups. If I mess up a guitar part it's 25 sit-ups. If Miles messes up it's 5 sit-ups and a beer. That's the way things work around here.

August 8th: I pinched a nerve in my right thumb on a shitty tambourine and could not finish so we decided to put it in Pro Tools. I don't remember anything else, besides the four beers I drank in 35 minutes.

August 12th: Near the end of the evening I could hear Bill Evans, ever the soft spoken devil's advocate, tell Miles that "Good Man" was not groovy enough and that maybe we should just start over. Well, you can imagine the rebuttal. I left before any chairs got thrown.

August 17th: We were going to record a song called "The Weight Of My Tears" tonight because it was sounding pretty good while we were practicing, but the minute the tape started rolling we stiffened up like a jam band on crank. It reminded me of Ice Cube in "Friday," where he's hanging out with his friends all loose and smiling but then someone shows up with a camera so he puts on a "hard" look and frowns for the picture. After the flash he immediately starts smiling and talking again. We're all just a bunch of Ice Cubes.

August 31st: During "Heartstrings" we used our friend's apartment to record the strings. It had high ceilings and a lot of natural light. This time we only had three string players and the only "Natural Light" was provided in cans by Steve St. Cin and his plastic cooler.

September: Vocals.

October 12th: Miles was listening to my mandolin solo over and over again, another Obsessive Compulsive Disorder moment. Apparently he didn't like the dropout in one of the speakers and thought it best to pan them more towards the center. I rolled my eyes, which provoked a small argument. I kept my eyes on the clipboard just in case I needed to duck. This is what happens when you become, as Morgan Freeman says in "Shawshank Redemption," INSTITUTIONALIZED!

October 18th: Today was our last day recording. Miles couldn't think of any lyrics for our final song so Steve St. Cin offered a lyrical suggestion that had something to do with the video game "Asteroids" and the dinosaurs. Anyway, Miles is off to Nashville in three days and then to New York for mastering so hopefully we'll all have copies to pop into our stereos and kick back with a glass of wine to show our wives, fiancées, girlfriends and families that this shit is still worth putting our ever growing responsibilities on the line for.