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make sure they cremate me
2010-01-30 - 12:42 a.m.

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I know they mean well, but I can't stand when someone says, "Well, it's a once-in-a-lifetime chance," like it's something I need to get out of my system. I've tried to get it out of my system before, I've done the week trip, I've done the month long recording session, I've done the tour. The bug does not leave.

It just eats at my insides, which makes me think it's doing more harm than good. Because I'm not playing music, I sit at a desk. My payment is in laughter, and some might say it's all I need or could ask for. But it's stimulating, not satisfying.

I could laugh all I want and sway and nod my body to the music that I've memorized by this point, but at the end of the night I'm still the overzealous kid in the back of the room, wishing he was part of the action.

So this is not a break, it's not a vacation. I quit my job. I'm living in a van with five other guys. This is me diving in headfirst into the shallow end, and I've convinced myself I can swim over to the drop-off where my friends are wading. If I don't flatten my dive, though, my neck is broken.

This is me returning to Massachusetts in a casket.

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