Hi, everybody. TPC3 here to tell you how my summer is going.

I will say my biggest milestone of the summer so far is that I was, like, born. It's good to be out of the womb and into the world but the indignity of the pink safety seat was a bit much to abide. Fortunately, I grew up fast.

Here I am eating gravy fries and quaffing an ice cold Hetty Topper at Nectar's in Burlington. Fresh out of diapers and I already know better than to pour that nectar into a glass. I did frode up my gravy fries because I ate them too fast, but my boy JD cleaned me up.

As you can see, he also cleans himself up pretty good. Had a date night at the Flynn and hoisted our ragesticks for "Ya Mo B There."

The next night, Parker took me to the Paradise and we saw Stephen Marley. Halfway through the first set I had a contact high so lethal that I hallucinated that I was a sentient human being writing a photoblog about my summer vacation. Irie AF.

Soon I headed south and took the train into the city (as in Manhattan) to meet Welsh and Paolini (not a law firm). I found the subway seats very roomy, and could open myself all the way to the "Julius" song history without invading the space of my fellow passengers. Here I am in a more modest and reflective moment.

This is me pretending to be a famous building. Right as I was taking this some guy walked by and yelled "stupid f*cking tourist." But the joke's on him. The only tweezer he's ever seen is the one he uses to hold his REDACTED REDACTED

All things being equal I would much rather be inside the building than outside the building. On New Year's Eve. With my date, The Joy of Sex.

Caught a flight to the left coast to see my buddy Zzyzx, and we stopped at the Paramount. This place is legendary. The Dead played here. Nirvana played here. Pink Floyd played here. I wandered in and used the restroom for #1 and was escorted out by security immediately thereafter.

Here I am back at Chez Steinberg being molested by Cornmeal The Cat, who insisted on not just reading my Harpua song history but basically facehumping it in protest. His response: "The wrong pet died."

Next, I went to California. If hanging out in California teaches you anything it's that the road less traveled is nearly always the best, and not just because there's less traffic. My pal DP and I took this alternate route and...

... found ourselves in yet another legendary music venue. What's weird is that even though there was no concert happening, the line for the bathroom still took a half hour.

Watch this space for more of my travels. And don't forget:

Read The Book!

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