NAMES

Boston, Massachusetts

I made good time, got to Boston in just over 5 hours, and tried checking into the hotel right away. The guy at the front desk said since I hadn't arrived earlier they assumed I wasn't coming and gave my room to someone else. There were no rooms available until the morning. I gave him hell, but it didn't help. He apologized and said he'd get me into the first available room in the morning, and that I could make myself at home in the lobby. He offered me complimentary food and beverages while I waited. Rather than have to carry all my stuff back to the car and find another room somewhere, I stayed. Fuck it, I said. I'll just put all my shit over here, OK? Will you keep an eye on it?

I didn't feel like eating or drinking, so I just sat there for a while. I texted Maria to let her know I arrived safely, but she didn't reply, must have been sleeping.

I told the guy at the front desk I was going for a run, that I'd be back in about a half hour or so. I changed in the public restroom and put my gear behind the front desk. If they're stolen, I said, I'm screwed. I'll be so bummed. So pissed. I don't want to have to buy new ones or borrow anyone else's for the remainder of this tour. That would be the worst. Please watch them closely. They're the only guitars I've ever owned, between the 2 of them I've written all my songs, and I don't want to be without them.

I'd never run in the middle of the night before, but figured I wouldn't have a chance in the morning. Once they found me a room, I planned on sleeping for at least 6 or 7 hours before getting up and heading to the venue. I liked freewheeling like this. An enormous part of my life had become so routinized, so mundane. Same actions at the same exact time, every-single-fucking-day. It gets old, so being able to break away from that, stay over a girls place mid-week, drive through the night, hang out in a hotel lobby, run in the middle of the night through a new town, was enlivening. I'd read a lot about the importance of keeping your brain and body guessing by doing all sorts of exciting, new, unexpected, healthful things, it keeps you young, keeps you sharp, makes sure your brain is still growing and firing and learning, the concept of neuroplasticity, our brain is malleable throughout our lives and into old age, not just rotting away after young adulthood. I want to stay young and healthy and cool for as long as possible, that's not happening when almost everything in my day is already planned and when what's in store is relatively unbearable. That doesn't happen when I walk to work and see the same people doing the same things in the same places at the same time in the same way, bored as hell, or maybe it's contentedness, but it wasn't working for me. It never has. I need to be doing something I find worthwhile, fulfilling, creative, and uplifting. I'm not saying I don't want to work or have a job or a home or nice things, I wouldn't want to be homeless yet able to play music every day. I don't want to trade quality of life for anything, but if we're supposed to be working toward perfection, if my goal is to get better every day, to tremendously enjoy and appreciate every second I have, to move closer to self-actualization, to outreach my perceived potential, then something had to give. And already it's working. I feel more alive, freer, than I have since I was a kid. And, by the way, these people I'd see every day, for years, they refused to talk. They're so locked in, so content, so blissfully unaware of their surroundings, so focused on the day-to-day, perhaps so disinterested, maybe troubled, mentally ill, I don't know for sure, but I'd think about it a lot since it happened so regularly, that they can't, or won't, even return a friendly gesture, a hello, a head nod, a smile. I've tried, and failed, thousands of times over the years to strike up a simple conversation, and rarely, if ever, got a reply. It's almost unbelievable. That's a problem. I know we all have stuff going on, and I'm not trying to be invasive or make friends with everyone, but if I'm walking down the street and I pass someone, and it's just the two of us, I'm going to say hello. I've attributed that disinterest, that obliviousness, to extreme tedium, among other things. Personality type, experience, upbringing, time, place, stress, social media, it's all connected, but much of it comes down to the daily grind, not picking your head up to look around and appreciate everything going on around you. I try not to overthink or get caught up in what everyone else is doing or thinking or should be doing or thinking because when it comes down to it, his or her behavior should have nothing to do with mine. What you do, how you perceive the world, what you've been through, has very little to do with me. We are each individually responsible for the life that we lead, how we behave from moment to moment, so although I would occasionally get caught up in the behavior and attitudes of others, something I believe is human nature, to observe, question, analyze, predict, ultimately I was always focused on what I wanted and what I needed to do to get it, to have the life that I wanted. My life had become so fucking boring, that's what I was left with, thinking about what the hell was going on with people, and trying to find a way out. Maybe all those years of thinking were necessary steps in inching toward the realization that there is no finding a way out, you make the way out.