Comfort, Carnage, Catastrophe.

Nothing good comes from a place of comfort. Comfort breeds complacency. Some people have knocked me for not touring but I'm disabled and I've been living on my own for eighteen years. Every single month the roof over my head depends on me, and me alone. I didn't get the luxury of living rent free with my parents with zero over head. Missing that piece of the equation makes it so much more feasible to play drive around in a van and pretend to be a rockstar. If I did, things might be different.

Some day I can take my sour grapes up with God. Until then, man I'm existing. I'm sober. I'm feeling everything. The doctors are going to cut some more shit off of me and out of me. I'm working my ass off. I got my finances in order. I got back into shape. I'm writing again.

I need to find the thing that's theraputic for me. It's not music anymore. Music straight up, pisses me off. I'm not getting what I need from it. I'm either ignored or completely misunderstood. People really like being in a band but they don't work at it. Fact.

Ordinary fucking people. I almost became them. I came too close to being ordinary fucking people. Once I'm sober for a year I'm going to make a decision. I might start doing hard drugs for the hell of it. It's been a great run. What do you recommend?