[date]Tuesday April 20, 2004

[time]10:04pm

I'm so fucking bored. On the bus. In a car. In a little hotel room. a microphone in my face and guitar in my hand. That's all it used to be. That's all I wanted to play songs and people to hear them. I didn't want mtv following me around for a day. I didn't want to take part in a celebrity golf tourniment or something fucking else I didn't want to do.

And I know what you think. Listen to the mopey rock star. Look what they have and they're still complaining. Well fuck you. no matter who you are or what you do there are always complaints. ALWAYS. Yeah money's good…it'd be better if I saw it and spent it or used that nice house cribs so beautifully captured. Instead I'm here…tour number 4? 5? I lost count. It's still the first record. FIRST!

I wish I could just go to sleep. Precious precious sleep. I deserve it right? Doesn't the rock star deserve a day off? Or would that ruin some schedule mapped out for the rest of my adult life?

Maybe kurt had the right idea.

End transmission.