Dear Diary,

I hate tour Trevor. Everyone else probably does too but I'm not about to take a band poll. Whenever we head out for a substantial length of time I turn into an excess monster. Booze, food, cigarettes. I must consume all of everything. This usually turns into self hate around one week in and that pain can only be medicated with the previously mentioned vices. It's a vicious cycle that will only end when I die of a heart attack or when PBC breaks up, both of which will happen within the next two years. Sure, I could do the right thing and start making small positive life choices everyday but then I'd be a completely different person than who I am, an adult if you will. But we all know I am absolutely not a grownup. Think of me as a Peter Pan without the tights and flying, well, without the flying.

Tour is almost over, we fly home this coming Friday and then it's back to real life for a couple months. The pleasant surprise of the week is the crowd reaction Defeater receives opening up the show each night. Surprising because this is their first time over here, not because they're a terrible band. I'd go as far to say that they're my new favorite hardcore band, a spot that once belonged to Ruiner....awkward. Lead singer D-Man opens up each set each night with a cry for attention, er, solo type song on his acoustic guitar before the entire band breaks into one of their songs of the full length Travels. I'd love to give you a break down of their set list each night but I don't actually own the album. I mean, I have Witness and My Love, My Way so I figured "Why get the third?" Hey-o! (You see, the joke here is, Defeater is a Modern Life Is War rip off band)

Last night, for the first time in my life, I was in Scotland. On the drive to Glasgow from wherever the fuck we were the night before, green pastures and sheep went on for miles and miles. Unfortunately, when on tour there isn't much time to take in local sites and landmarks, the only site seeing is done from a tinted van window. This is better than nothing and will have to do for now. Yesterday, for maybe the first time ever, I thought to myself about how lucky I am to be able to venture all across the globe all thanks to punk rock and my best friends, well, business associates. Then I began to feel a tad bit guilty for the opportunity I've been given when there are people in my life who truly deserve the chance to get away from the crushing weight that everyday life brings down upon oneself. Specifically, I'm talking about my parents. Whereas they struggle to make ends meet everyday, their ungrateful lot of a son, a son who refuses to grow up or move out, gets piss drunk every night and alienates most people around him. So of course the self hate began to creep in again and how did I handle such feelings? Well, as always, I drank enough alcohol to medicate a cutter and threw beer bottles, pork chops and oranges off of a fifth floor apartment we stayed at that same night. Why? Because I'm an idiot. Clearly, I've revealed way too many personal thoughts and feelings in a public forum and D-Man just gave me whiskey. I guess it's time to start the downward spiral again tonight. Sorry Mom and Dad.

(Hi, Sarah S., you big brat)