Hey, I'm back at Square One and not really too enthused. Just finished a long day of rehearsing, haven't played my songs acoustically for almost a month and last time I was here, the place was empty almost the entire night, except for a few people who obviously wanted to read and not be bothered.

So I get there and the place is actually hopping--that's cool. There's a new girl working--Cara--and she's nice and interesting and has a cool haircut, so already things are looking up. I start to set up---I brought a significant amount of equipment this time--when I realize suddenly that I've left a major necessary piece of equipment at home. Very professional, Frank. So I go home and get it and come back and set up and oh, sometime around 8:15, I'm ready to start. Very professional indeed.

So I haven't even played a note yet when one of a table of three cute girls says to me "You look very familiar." I say, "Did you go to Manheim Twp.?", she says, "That's right!", etc.---we've covered this before, n'est-ce pas? But then she starts doing the math in her head and says suddenly, "How old are you?" For the first time in my life, I consider lying about my age. But instead, I simply respond with the truth: "25."

So, after everyone is introduced to everyone else, I finally get started and end up having a pretty good night, considering I hadn't played for a while. I perform a new cover by Pete Yorn and then get a request for a Beatles tune. I stumble my way through "Something" which seems to delight everyone (the fact that I didn't know it and was willing to give it a shot impresses people way more than actually knowing the song--go figure). I actually do more covers than usual, which was fun. I also didn't take a break, which was cool because that seems to be when I lose everybody.

Last, but certainly not least, my new friend from the cute girl table does an interpretive dance to my final song of the night, Snow Globe. It doesn't get any sweeter.