I don't know if we're going to party, or fall down in a heap on the floor.

Is it excitement?

Is that what this is?

It's a curious combination.

What do you feel?

Where do you think our lives are, right now?

On the release of Display and Bloodworks, there was apprehension – how will it be received? What will it mean for us? etc. - but here, with Volition, there's none of that. No doubt at all. Any sense of anything left undone (narf) has fallen away. Maybe that's all that had to happen, but I know I didn't anticipate feeling like this.

As you may have heard, Jeb's not playing with us anymore. Doubtless that's part of the rare-pet-shop of feelings that surround tomorrow's release. He'll still be around (meaning he'll poke his head out of his bedroom door when he hears the kettle boiling) but he's changing his focus, for now. Is everyone happy? Something like that. Is everyone sad? Something like that. Suddenly, Volition makes sense.

So now two of the most bizarre years of everyone's lives are coming to a close. What is there to say that doesn't put us at some removed point? What is there about our alienation in this that can allow us to connect?

That peculiar heightened state of pure joy, perhaps, tinged at every edge with sadness at the end of things.

And isn't that what we're all about?

Roll on tomorrow, with its mountains of words and heaps of playlists and airplay.

Roll on the next few weeks, with gigs and interviews and movement and all that stuff. And all their surprises.

They've just called me to practice. Literally, at this moment. See; everything keeps going.

So I'd better go.

Have fun, listen to the album tomorrow, and remember what my girlfriend often tells me: nothing is as big as it seems from your own point of view.

Tim