It is perhaps the central dilemma of the internet that, as the quality of one’s Real Life increases, one’s ability to report on such boons dips precipitously. Must we always choose between living life and recording it? While sitting down by a placid river with a group of fine friends and at least one bottle of whiskey, that’s a surprisingly easy question to answer. But then a couple days later, when you found you’ve neglected your duties as a tabulator of experiences for the fleeting joy of fully realized experience, you learn again that one only affords the increasingly rare indulgence of life lived wholly in the present moment by paying a currency of regret over what one has failed to document and thus preserve for the benefit of the rest of the social commons — people who are, after all, responsible for so much of what makes a life worth living in the first place. But if all this is true, my near-0% internet presence over the past few days should give you comfort.

People, what I’m trying to say is I’ve been busy having fun on tour.

The second Punchbuggy Tour has begun, with a drive up from this

to a St. Patrick’s day bbq & poker party at my old home in White River Junction. Within 30 seconds of stepping out of the tour van a plate of sausages had been thrust into my hands, and I found myself surrounded by many warm, familiar faces. And in what must be the most egregious case of my friends’ charity yet, by midnight-thirty I’d won a rather well-attended poker game.

The next morning I was able to get in some quality pajama kitchen chats with my old Red House roomies before strapping on a tie and hoofing down to the school in my dress shoes for a visiting-artist presentation with my tourmates.

Afterwards we went down for beer and burgers at Than’s, a place where the bartender actually knows my name and wonders why I hadn’t come in lately. Jesus, the last 24 hours in WRJ had been so pleasant that I was starting to wonder that myself.

The next morning I got up “early” (8:45) to do a tidy little inking demo at the school with Jon Chadurjian. Then I traipsed around town in the sun, running errands and marveling at the pureness of the area’s benevolent quietude. The ice-cream windows would be opening soon, as the maples got their green back. The town’s quotidian funk had been polished to a fine sheen by the ache of my fresh nostalgia.

After CCS took a few of us out to dinner, we walked back to school to put on our big tour show, complete with ukuleles and powerpoint and nervous energy.

To what shouldn’t have been my surprise, our efforts were met with waves of vigorous applause! I suppose that if anyone could understand it would be a room of other cartoonists. I must now curse them for setting the bar for the rest of our tour so impossibly high.

Afterwards a few of us walked down to the dark river park and drank some fine distilled beverage while chatting about the finest stupid nonsense, until it was just too cold to stand it. Where else in the world could I afford to have it this good? I do not know.

And the next morning we were already packing up the van and hauling our carcasses back to The City. I’ll be back here for just a quick day; then we venture back north toward Massachusetts for more tourage. You can find out lots more about the rest of our tour here: www.punchbuggytour.com Come see us! And if you notice this blog languishing in silence, know that somewhere out there, beyond the laptop monitor’s pale glow, I am enjoying my life well.

(Oh, and I’ve been doing a mediocre job of answering formspring questions here — ask more and I might improve.)