I’m writing this in the green room of Brooklyn Steel in, well, Brooklyn, a preposterously expensive haircut in my near future in anticipation of tonight’s sold out show.

Some of my most empowering moments as a Berklee student involved taking the train into the city and experiencing, well, everything - music, theater, food, fool-hardy yet necessary fallings in and out of love, the whole gambit. It is difficult here, and overwhelming, the palpable nihilism and miasma of stale, street-lining garbage all too real, but there’re few cities where so much life happens so quickly and, much like touring, you’ll find out in a hurry what you’re capable of.

In a few hours, two thousand pleasantly inebriated and otherwise joyful fans will pack into Brooklyn Steel, and in the post sold out show euphoria I’m sure I’ll promise myself I’ll move here. That is until we hit the next city, and the next, and the next, and a nomad’s heart hums a familiar tune.