343 Days

I’m writing this in the Flying M Coffeehouse in Boise, surrounded by paintings of bedazzled nude torsos and avuncular gnomes, in the company of hipster chic Idahoans adumbrated by glowing Apple logos. 

I mentioned a few days ago that I could easily make another lap around the country. I lied. I am, in fact, exhausted, and it’s on days like today I’m grateful for this newsletter. On past tours, on the homestretch and grasping for what’s at best an ephemeral sanity, I’d stare at my phone, zombie like, relying on YouTube puppy videos to fortify my nerves, long since frayed beyond recognizability. 

Now, no matter how tired, pissed off, or generally over it I am, I made a commitment to write the MoaT everyday, which I guess is my internet equivalent of putting on pants and leaving the house - it may not be pretty, but I’m making the effort, and goddammit that’s more than can be said for that douche in compression pants.

343 days in a row. Thanks for following along.