I suppose I wrote this 9 years, and 364 days ago. I remember I was sitting on a tractor under a big tree outside of Barboursville, trying wrap my head around the news. I performed in NYC about a month later, and my buddy Gus Powell virtually grabbed me by the collar and demanded I play it. I was glad he did. Devon suggested I post it today, and I’m also glad she did. It can be difficult to align oneself with such a universal suffering. It can be difficult to put aside the inclination to consider it more privately, but I’m glad I do.