I'll admit, writing posts has been somewhat of a challenge for me since I've been here, even though I've managed to get a few down. But not for the reasons you might think. I'll explain how I normally write, first. Normally, something funny will happen in the course of a day. J will do something noteworthy while shopping at Wild Birds Unlimited, for instance, and I think immediately, "That might make a good blog post." I think about it for the rest of the day from time to time and when I finally sit in front of my computer I have a pretty good idea of how that particular piece of writing is going to play itself out, and it gets done quickly. That's how it normally occurs.

Here, however, here in Maine, with the band and our friends (the house currently holds nine), my days are different. I wake up, we make coffee and have breakfast, 100 or 200 funny things happen, and then it is nearing the end of the day and, yes, I have time to write, but what the hell do I write about? Do I write about all the funny things? Do I really tell you what's going on up here, really? Because the thing is, if I did, you would hate me. "Oh no," you're saying, but I'm not kidding, you might. If you didn't hate me - if you didn't hate us - you'd shake your head slowly and go, "Those guys..." and by "Those guys..." you'd mean, "Those guys are being ridiculous."

It just is. It. Is. Ridiculous. Here. In a good way, sure, but in a way that if I simply wrote what we're up to, you'd certainly recognize that the amount of fun we are having is shameful. But for a few reasons (like the fact that we're all planning on resuming fulfilling and productive lives once this is over, and because I believe that sustaining some level of writing integrity means not leaving all this wonderful material out) I'm going to do it. I'm going to tell you as much as I can about Our Summer In Maine, because honestly, it's been great and I'm not lying when I say that I wish you all, except maybe people who are total strangers (although that would probably be ok, too) were here.

First you need to know who you are dealing with (and I'll catch you up as the visitors increase).

The Cast of Characters:

Jennifer - Best friend, maid of honor, partner in this Maine adventure. You can see a picture of Jennifer here. That picture is very informative as it pretty much sums up a normal day for her.

Max B. - (who arrived yesterday). You all know Max from previous blog entries, so I'll leave him for now, but needless to say he'll be prominent on this site these next few weeks.

Matt (Rogue) - Buffalino manager and PR agent extraordinaire.

Pete - Singer, rocker, dreamer.

Nick - The keyboard player and sometimes vocalist, as well as a fabulous dancer.

Cory (Hawk) - Bass player for the band, intellectual superstar.

Alaina - Another Wooster alum who is (very sadly) only here until Thursday when she must depart to return to the world of doing-important-and-career-oriented things.

Vinnie - My brother, the drummer, who is constantly using excuses like "This is my house," and "I made all this happen," when we try to get him to do things he doesn't want to do.

On our way back from picking up Max in Manchester yesterday, a subset of the group - Pete, Rogue, Jennifer and I, who, by the way, are not only the ones who got pumped about driving hours to and from Manchester to get to the airport, but are also the ONLY people who had gotten in the ocean at that point, and therefore, a superior bunch - were telling our new housemate about our adventures. I told Max it was a little like "The Real World" and he said maybe it was actually like "The Intellectual Real World" since a lot of people in this house are incredibly smart and very well-educated. We decided that in between eating lobster rolls and hanging out on the patio overlooking the ocean, snuggling up watching movies in the cozy den and making rum cocktails, drinking cold beers, or heading out to town in the tour bus to make a scene, we'd probably be discussing a wide variety of worldly, weighty issues. We'd use our skill and logic to examine those issues, not looking facts up on the internet, or in books, because, well, let's face it, we've got the time. And what better way to spend one's time in Maine, jobless, living in a house of musicians and other crazy, fun individuals, than examining philosophical truths and then maybe later that night making movies of ourselves playing basketball and dancing in the house? Really, you tell me, how we could better spend our time. That's right. We couldn't do anything better than that.

If you're starting to get angry at this situation (Max said he was actually afraid to tell some people what he'd be doing this summer because it was "too awesome") just remember that there is a sad part, and that's the fact that we are going to have to go home at some point, and it's going to be very, very sad.

(By the way, I thought about writing this post while on a run this morning and actually had to write an outline in a notepad when I got back because I was afraid I'd be distracted during the day by the prospect of a trip into town to do some shopping or maybe a swim in the frigid ocean followed by some sunbathing on the rocky beach. And I was. I was diverted by both.)