Weeknotes: June 1–6, 2026
Monday, June 1
Light rain falls on the crew resurfacing South Elm Street. Greg and I watch the procession of heavy machinery from the front window of the Oaks Eatery. Black coffee, Nueske's bacon, roast potatoes, two eggs over medium, and a pancake. I think the single pancake, as a toast alternative, adds a measure of pizzazz to the day ahead.
Last night we returned to Three Oaks to retrieve my favorite yellow scarf, accidentally left behind after the Jonathan Richman show in February. For three months, I mailed postcards addressed to My Yellow Scarf c/o the Tom Cat Tavern, offering reassurance and reminding it to behave: We'll talk about your drinking when you get back.
"Can we keep the postcards?" asked the bartender, handing me a paper bag labeled "Tim's Scarf ♡." I certainly don’t need them. We stayed for a couple pints, and I thanked them for putting up with my shenanigans. I considered intentionally leaving behind another article, but then thought better of it. In the evening we drove to Sawyer to hear Marisa Anderson play songs from her new album at Out There, a wine bar and concert venue built in a converted Shell service station.
Tuesday, June 2
I walk with my headphones and notebook to Frog Island and sit on the concrete ledge, making mix notes. It's 72°. Warm, buttery sunlight pools between the shadows. There’s honeysuckle in the air. It’s a perfect summer night.
Back home, I spend 90 minutes hammering out a minimalist keyboard part on my old Yamaha CP-20, an electric piano I think of as the poor man's Rhodes. Outside my headphones, its weighted keys make an insistent mechanical thump. It’s my latest attempt to complete a song that may already be finished. I don’t know. I've tried so many different ideas during this section — I’m still searching for a breakthrough.
At 8:45 I head back out on a hunt for ice cream. My local, the Keg, disappoints. Five blocks away is Tom's Market, a crusty old campus staple with its faded hand-painted claim: The Coldest Beer in Town. Its doors are boarded up — I didn’t know they’d gone kaput. R.I.P. Tom's. Across the street, at Eagle Market, the clerk leans against the bricks smoking a cigarette. He stands half-in, half-out, watching me examine the freezer's contents. I settle on Ben & Jerry's cookie dough, and he stubs out his smoke to come inside and ring me up. Walking home though my quiet college town neighborhood with a pint of ice cream feels like I'm playing out a script titled June Night.
Wednesday, June 3
I spend part of the morning practicing. I don’t do very many three-set gigs anymore, but I have one coming up in Flint on June 20. I usually budget around 15 songs per set, so roughly 45-50 for the night. That’s a lot of material to rehearse when you’re not regularly playing those kinds of gigs. I’ve been playing a lot of classical guitar, but not steel string. I also haven’t sung very much over the past month, and I’m pleasantly surprised by how decent my voice sounds. It usually takes a little more work to get back into shape.
A message from my mechanic uncorks a wellspring of latent anxiety. Significant car repairs are needed, a major financial setback. In response, I cancel tomorrow's studio session and the haircut I'd scheduled for Friday, as if these meager savings will make much difference in the bigger picture. I go to bed feeling a sense of failure disproportionate to the issue at hand. Why am I so hard on myself?
Thursday, June 4
It’s quarter to six and I'm resting on a slender island in the Huron, surrounded by poison ivy. I just wanted to get my feet in the river somewhere. At Frog Island, the most desirable wading spots were occupied by fly fishermen. Further downstream at Riverside, the sun felt too bright and each sandbar was an unappealing morass of goose poop. Across Michigan Avenue, I walked down the footpath into the Water Street Redevelopment Area, an overgrown brownfield where towering cottonwoods border the river. Four stepping stones brought me onto this little island where I now drink a beer, read my Roger Deakin bio, and listen to orioles, gnatcatchers, and waxwings. Avoiding the poison ivy is a challenge. I may pay a price for this adventure.
Friday, June 5
Some might disagree, but I think Whammy! is the best B-52's album. That's all I really want to say. Today was fine.
Saturday, June 6
The annual Normal Park Neighborhood Yard Sale is an Ypsilanti holiday. Today’s haul:
Converse Chuck Taylor High Tops, size 8 ½ (Tan) $3.00
Casio SA-2 Keyboard (Broken) Free
Rand McNally Interstate Road Atlas (Bicentennial Edition, 1976) $3.00
Important Information Inside: The Art of John F. Peto and the Idea of Still-Life Painting in Nineteenth-Century America - John Wilmerding (Hardcover, 1983) $1.00
A Dictionary of Marks: The Identification Handbook for Antique Collectors - Edited by Margaret Macdonald-Taylor (Paperback, 1962) $1.00
The Creative Act: A Way of Being - Rick Rubin (Hardcover, 2023) $1.00
Maps of the Artic and Atlantic Ocean Floors (National Geographic, 1968) $1.00
A Traveler’s Map of the British Isles (National Geographic, 1974) $0.50
Colorful Colorado (Travel Map, 1968) $1.00
American Oil Company Road Maps of Arizona/New Mexico, Iowa, and Denver (Undated, est. 1970s) $3.00
Hot Dog, Lay’s Wavy Chips, Can of Coke $5.00
TOTAL: $19.50
