10:00 am by

Something is drawing me back to writing. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m realizing that I really miss it. I’ve recently put some words down for blurbs and it made me truly enjoy regurgitating the many things revolving around my big fat head. I’ll never be the writer/blogger I once was – I’ve moved on from that. I don’t care about it like I used to. I came to the point where I was starting to hate doing what I was doing. My mentor told me it was going to happen, but I just scheduled more shows. More and more and more and more shows. It was effecting my life. It was effecting the love of my life. Things were getting ridiculous. Wake up. Work a full time job. Go to a show. Drink. Shoot. Drink. Go home. Edit photos. Write. Edit. Sleep. Repeat.

I was at the top of my game, though. I felt like every click of the camera and every tap of the keyboard was churning out gold. 6 nights a week for a while. A long damn while. I was really doing it. I was living “the life.” But I knew, living that lifestyle, I was going to crash and burn. And I realized it quick. I straight up started to hate music. Live music, recorded music, collecting music. Three of my favorite things in life all of the sudden were my least favorite. What the hell was I doing?

I quit. I gave it all up: The lifestyle, the free tickets, the ability to see and possibly hang out with every one of my favorite bands anytime I wanted to. Gone. Because it was time to grow up. Because I needed to grow up. Because I wanted to grow up. Not because I burnt myself out – which I definitely did – but because I had to finally realize that if I wanted to live the life both me and my soon to be wife want and deserve, I’d have to.

And I was ready. BECAUSE I burnt myself out. I went hard. And crashed even harder.

But I never lost the enjoyment of writing. I miss it. And now I think I’m to the point where I need an outlet for expression. My love of music is a guiding force in my life and forever will be. So why not let it out? When I have time of course. Like I said, I’m getting married, so free time doesn’t come easy these days.

Breakfast On Tour will never be what it once was. But I don’t want it to be. I’m past the point of catching the latest local, regional or national act live. I’m past jumping in every photo pit that I can get in. I just want to talk about the music I love. The bands that have constantly been in rotation over the past 20 years of my musical discovery. While I’m sure I’ll find some new bands, my time away from music journalism has taken me back to the bands I truly love. My desert island bands. Phish. Wilco. Widespread Panic. Outkast. My Morning Jacket. The Grateful Dead. Trampled By Turtles. Hot Chocolate. Built To Spill. Stevie Wonder. Kendrick Lamar. Dr. Dog. Sublime. Dawes. Wu-Tang Clan. LCD Soundsystem. Delta Spirit. A Tribe Called Quest. The War On Drugs. Rubblebucket. Yonder Mountain String Band. Jay Z. NOFX. Modest Mouse. Bob Marley. Keller Williams. Eminem. The Avett Brothers.

If I never write another thing after this, or if I decide to write three articles a day for the rest of eternity, I definitely want to stress the importance and influence this blog has had on my life. Breakfast On Tour was, at least to me, important at one time. I was in a league of my own in the Houston blogging scene. Local bands were a big inclusion in my coverage, but I was the only national blog based out of Houston. My focus for a time was on festivals, and I was fortunate enough to be invited to cover several national events, including big name ones like Bonnaroo, ACL, Outside Lands, Voodoo, Rothbury, Wakarusa and several others over the course of my career.

I had a lot of fun during BOT’s heyday and feel as if that showed in both my writing and photography. Anyone who knew me at the time can attest to my love for the game, and while that has certainly waned over time, those years were pertinent to becoming the person I am today. Several of my best friends came around during those days, most importantly the true love of my life who will share my name come April of 2017.

So here I am. Naked and afraid. Not sure if I’ll even write again. But I want to. And I think I need to. And I miss music. I might just write about Phish. And if this all eventually goes by the wayside, I’ll be no better or worse than I was before I started this stupid, overly-long diatribe that no one probably cares about other than my damn self.

So on that note, here is the last Phish show I went to in its entirety. Because I know you have nothing to do for the next 3.5 hours.

Love you. We’ll talk soon.

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