Sometimes with my flair for romanticism I make it seem like I am living the life. Such Freedom! But I tell you now freedom is expensive. It doesn't always go so well.


Sometimes I venture into a new town with no money for hotel and no idea where I am going to stay that night. I hope to make a friend at the show. Things are almost always better after I play but sometimes (too often in my case…) it is a bad show. No one shows up or I perform at a place that has no interest in my music… or any music for that matter. Those nights are tricky business. I don't have a proper RV by any means. I just have a small Toyota pickup with a camper shell. I can and do sleep in it but it is pretty exposed. Sometimes I drive up the interstate until I reach a rest stop and sleep to the hum of the tractor diesels… I do my best to get just enough rest to make it to the next stop… without falling asleep at the wheel…. which sometimes is so possible…. miles have slipped by unnoticed… my life is dangerous.


On other nights, I drive with the high beams into the forests. I find a lonely dirt road to pull into and wake up half lost and thankful to have no one but the trees for neighbors. Other nights are spent in parking lots or on the curbs of dubious neighborhoods… where everyone is a bad guy… both the cops and the criminals… I don't belong…


anywhere.


Oh, this is not done…. not even half baked… this life but what else do I have to live? Put me back on the inside… in the matrix… on the grid…. to whither in unemployment… to be reminded how little I am worth to the default world. A world where my thoughts turn to a knife at my throat. At least when pitted against physical survival I will take up my side and rally to my defense. In that world where I don't belong I cannot even rely on my own help.


Travel on. Half assed and half baked and heading nowhere… hitting bottom and falling through floors. Each time I survive a fall I know I can take more than I ever imagined. You cannot imagine my life… not through my music or my words… the devil… death… disease. It all creeps up at night, digging in their claws, pulling me into darkness. Sometimes I admit the Darkness is comforting… peaceful… that Siren Song. White Light. Darkness. It's really the same, you know. Surrender. Surrender and you shall be set free but not today. Today it is still rage, Rage. I cannot say how long this road continues but, for now, I drive on.

 

 

 

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