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Day One Hundred Seventy Three

Today was a Wilco day (he writes, as if that sentence alone should explain everything). It dawns on me that Jeff Tweedy is a poet for the downtrodden, the disenfranchised, the emotionally lost. The shattered among us all (of which I consider myself one) find solace in his words, his music, his experience. I feel in his writing the same thing I feel in that of Adam Duritz, something that speaks to my soul on a direct line. Both of those guys would make my "if I could write songs like anyone" list.

Tweedy's music came up all day, from the moment I woke up, all the way through my shift, and then tonight with the iPod on shuffle. If anyone out there isn't familiar with Wilco, or for that matter, Uncle Tupelo (the band he was in before Wilco), I'd urge you to check them out. It's great, great stuff. And each album is completely different from the next. It's music that reaches out and grabs you, music that makes you want to pick up an acoustic and dream big.

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