does my heart earnestly long for truth, for beauty? for righteousness and realness?

um, sure, i guess. right after i enjoy this ice cold pilsner.

sorry, enlightenment - i'm booked solid trying to get richer and thinner. instead of kinder and smarter.

tonight my band is supposed to play at the fringe stage and sell heaps of CDs and enjoy golden moments of cameraderie on stage. it's also supposed to storm, donnert and blitzen, pissing down obstacles to my delightful fantasy.

when i open up my mouth and sing, a portal opens to planet real. singing is a self-directed activity - it develops its own momentum, happens for its own sake, and momentarily eclipses the frantic ego monologue.

that's why i do it. i don't suppose that knowledge makes me a genius musician. i just like it. plus, i could end up a rock and roll icon, snorting coke from the outstretched palms of supplicating boy servants.

email me at leese75@hotmail.com now to order your fresh copy of mayfly's heartbreaking tour de force called nymphomania. 12 bucks canadian. like our namesake you may only live for another day. why waste it not listening to our sweet, sweet voices?