Every dispatch, route memo, and backstage confession I have managed to write down before the road swallowed it. Some of these probably should have stayed in the parking lot. Most of them are better for not having.
12.0.5 drops Monday. My warlock is about to be judged on his window treatments by strangers, while I am writing this from a motel outside Kokomo with a pothole outside that qualifies as a landmark.
A proper absence report involving dogs with union energy, one regrettable bone situation, several cigarettes in places no cigarette should be, and a warlock so broken that an expansion literally called Midnight could not bench him.
Glitz is how they see you in a gym. Glam is how you hold the room. Namtro is the boring part that keeps it from collapsing outside Kokomo.
Three things I need to get off my chest: the grind nobody photographs, the Coke crisis, and why my prop cigarette caused a meeting.
Not every Indiana McDonald's can hold a bit. Some dining rooms work with you. Others fight you from the door like a bouncer with a mop.
My route memo for flipping seasons in Indiana without stacking two unknown venues back to back and ending up sewing in a parking lot.
What survived last weekend when ride alarms, generators, and an Indiana sky all decided to fight my act at the same time.
The exact Astro + Bun workflow I use to publish this site from whatever backstage desk has a power outlet and enough Wi-Fi to push a commit.
January parades will find every weak seam you own. These are the fixes I make before the cold turns small failures into public ones.
Ninety seconds. That is how long you get before a school gym decides if you are the show or the problem. Here is how I read it.