Memphis, TN- It’s cold in Blues City… Beale Street in Memphis is all but deserted. Yet in spite of the almost complete lack of humanity, the neighborhood still feels inviting. The soft, enchanting glow of the neon signs is almost hypnotizing, reminding me of my Sinful roots; I find them comforting. The ambient blues and jazz notes floating out from the front doors of the bars and music houses transports me to a by-gone time; a time I’ve only read about or seen in black and white. It’s then I realize we’re listening to live feeds, that there are actual, live bands playing their hearts outs inside nearly every spot, as the ghost of Elvis dances with the shadows … and then, we’re gone.

The night before, we performed at a venue in Atlanta, GA that once served as a textile factory. The 100-plus-year-old stone and wood structure was built like a castle. I could feel the history of the place sticking to the walls, making the air seem thick and rich, like it was forcing it’s way inside my lungs. The place was so packed, the ancient wooden floor-boards bowed with every unison jump made by the crowd, while I made my nightly transformation from fan to star and back again. The show ended, we bid farewell to our tour-mates NONPOINT, fellow poet-road-warriors whom I deeply respect and admire. The rain came down in sheets as we said our goodbyes… and then, we’re gone.

The night prior to that, we played in Jacksonville, NC, a military town by the Atlantic. I absconded from the bus, my cousin Ruth picked me up and took me to her home for some pizza and play time with her four beautiful kids. I wonder to myself, as I am surrounded by these purest forms of life, will they remember me if I don’t see them again for some time? I returned to the club, sang a song, got a tattoo, signed a pretty girl’s breasts, got an enticing offer from another and fed breadcrumbs to some very ugly ducks next to a small swamp… and then, we’re gone.

We are, collectively, the Kaiser Soze of rock and roll.

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