I’ve been spending way too much time on other people’s couches lately. Something about sitting on a couch past 3am somewhere other than my own apartment creates this field of ultra-gravity that’s inescapable. I’ve couched it twice in four nights, and on the alternate night i wound up sitting on one for at least three hours quietly reading a magazine before i finally got up to leave. Last night my couching was justified, though, seeing as it was nearly 3am and i was standing in the middle of West Philly with a guitar strapped to my back. I swear… the muggers were circling me like vultures at one point. I’m usually pretty brazen about walking the streets at night, but sometimes you’ve just got to turn tail and flee to the nearest couch. Mmm… couch.