It’s 12:42 at night. Idk AM or PM when it comes to 12 and I don’t really know if I ever want to. Whenever I talk to people who know the difference, I feel like I’m talking to a slave of any way of life that depends harshly on the oppression of others. Like, please… I never asked for this non-consensual hot, I don’t care how my food died I just eat it- breath, all over my body, berating my skin with tiny shards of passive aggressive energy in the shape of talk only relating to AM/PM. Now get out of here you classist. (This paragraph is so crazy and so assumptive on such an incredibly small detail in life lmfao. But, I really love it so I’m gonna keep it).

I’m on tour with Half•Alive right now. We just had our first show. The bus’s generator just died and we’re waiting patiently inside a way too quirkily fabricated House of Blues Cleveland. It reeks of “Let’s be different”. There’s cows painted on the walls. But, it doesn’t seem like the people who painted them had any fun or any intention whatsoever painting them. They seem like someone just said “Yo, you should paint a cow,” and they did. There’s also a wall completely covered by a black and white naked BABE with “juxtaposing” in-color baby blue beads dangling from her neck framing her amateurly shaded tiny little man-judged perfect titties. I can’t believe shit like this is even made. It makes me feel absolutely wretched because it probably manifested some girl in middle-America to act exactly like what this painting gives off. It makes me too sad to explain in detail what the painting gives off. But overall, the first thing I think of when I look at it is Kid Rock.

This bus basically breaking down on our very first show of this leg of tour seems like a metaphor for something. Definitely having to do with me. But, I don’t care enough to analyze the signs. I promised myself I was gonna be laid back and live, laugh, love everywhere we travel in a way that suits me and only me. I care too much about giving as much love as I can to others. (As previously stated in past posts). And I’ve learned my lesson and it feels really fucking good to have a new form of non-caring mindset. Not-caring evolves just as much as caring does in a really nice and meditative way. Imma lay in my coffin bunk now. On a broken bus in the middle of downtown Cleveland with the stress of the universe seemingly throwing its seeds onto everyone’s lawns but mine. Because I made it clear I don’t want them here. It’s nice being in a garden that you curated. Right now it involves listening to Beach House and Vayda, and drifting into a deep and loving sleep as the world around me resentfully pours more coffee. At a now knowing, 1:31 AM.