I awake to the sound of rain absolutely pouring down. As I come to, I have this feeling like something’s different. Maybe this is what it really feels like to be reborn, not that hollow religious rebirth crap. I know it doesn’t sound like much considering I’m stuffed inside a sleeping bag on a hardwood floor, packed in a tiny room with four other guys in sleeping bags, but for the first time in my life it feels like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
This is how we heard it’d be from all those bands that showed us how to do it, that went out to chase down their dream in rented cargo vans. I’m ready for this to be the first of many floors we’ll sleep on.
As we make our way out of Portland, we experience the completely alien concept of doing exactly what we want to do while the rest of the world carries on with their dull and dismal Saturday morning errands. Back in L.A., you play a gig then face the tremendous letdown of returning to your shit day job, school, mid-city traffic, whatever. For us, it’s back on the highway to follow the breadcrumbs left by our heroes in this sort of parallel universe.