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wrist list vol 3 hi friends, i’m coming at you from the floor of soda bar in san diego, waiting patiently for my generic charger to bring my phone back to full juice. spiritual cramp is sound checking, and boy do those guys have some shit to say that i can relate to. deeply poetic verses like, “wake up in the morning and i think i’m gonna die”, “i’m sick of looking at my phone” and “i wanna smash my phone”. seriously… i’ve spent countless hours over the past four weeks in the back of the van opening and closing my instagram account, refreshing my email, waiting for the fleeting dopamine hit. it has officially stopped coming. i need to find a new vein. i wanna smash my phone. i would probably just go ahead and do it if it weren’t for the light poking through at the end of the tunnel, the final two shows. every time we hit this leg, i’m reminded that southern california is my favorite place on the planet. my lungs are so acclimated to the toxic desert air i have trouble breathing anywhere else. everything that excites me is still right here, and there’s something new to discover every single day if i want it. or i can sit in my room and play a video game with my girlfriend for a week. truthfully i’m already planning on the latter the second we load off stage at the lodge room. all the anxiety and anticipation, the budding friendships and tentative reunions, all the lingering energy in every spider infested, beer painted room we’ve played and every smile and tear that’s been shed along the way come to a point in these last two shows. come witness the beginning of the end of the beginning. shit is going down. we hope you’ll be a part of it.
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