I’m a chronically anxious, overthinking mess most days, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I felt this optimistic at the beginning of a series of tours. If you follow me online in any capacity, you know this about me. Depression and I have been in a long, exhausting battle, and some days it just straight up wins. It gets in the way of everything I’m trying to build within my own personal life and everything I want to accomplish with Punk Rock Saves Lives. And maybe that’s part of the problem - sometimes, those two things feel too intertwined. Like if one starts slipping, the other goes down with it. Then the spiraling starts...you get the overall picture. I am basically a mess winging every day. There’s a reason Punk Rock Saves Lives pushes so hard to normalize mental health—because we need it too. I want to help people, to be that voice reminding others they’re not alone. But damn, do I need that reminder myself—every. single. day.
Tour life is always a rollercoaster, but hitting the road for Middle Age Queers and then rolling straight into Driveways, Eternal Boy, and Good Terms felt like two sides of the same chaotic, beautiful coin. Starting the year surrounded by people I actually consider friends makes a huge difference. Having some extra hands for the drives, someone who can jump in and ask questions, definitely doesn’t hurt either. I have this massive thing about not wanting to be a burden, so I just take on whatever comes my way—no complaints, no hesitation, just deal with it. Even when I know damn well that speaking up would fix half the problems, there’s this mental block stopping me every time. It’s frustrating as hell, but I’m working on it. Or at least, trying to. I atleast know when to ask for that kind of help. I know it is one of my "needs work" moments.
Valentine’s Gay was transformative. A room full of people choosing community over focusing on the negatives, standing tall against hate and straight-up fascism. The pit was alive. Kids were looking for connection. People actually cared about harm reduction. We even signed up three new potential life-saving donors. It wasn’t about numbers—it was about proof. Proof that punk still has a pulse. That we still have a pulse. That community is real, and we’re still here.
And then, jumping straight into tour with Driveways, Eternal Boy, and Good Terms felt like stepping into a safe, familiar family. No first-day jitters - just instant connection. I’ve been out with Eternal Boy before, and with Four Chord Music Fest in the mix, this wasn’t new territory. Still, I made sure we rolled up around the same time as the bands. Gotta get the lay of the land, feel out the energy, and scope the setup at Brick by Brick in San Diego. First rule of tour life? Know your space, know your people, and be ready for anything.
San Diego was a slow start—only about three swabs—but the conversations made it worth it. Sometimes, it’s not just about numbers; it’s about planting seeds. We were able to do well with passing out harm reduction items and left with around 250 dollars in donations. I left feeling like the day still meant something. Loved the venue overall - Brick x Brick - I would go back there at any point.
Next up: Los Angeles at The Echo. And of course, it kicked off with the soul-sucking traffic of getting into the city. But the real gut-punch? The venue was dead set that there was no room for our table inside. No compromise. No discussion. Just a hard NO.
So, they stuck us out on the smoking patio—alone. For the first couple of hours, it felt like we didn’t even exist. No foot traffic, no engagement, just sitting there in the dark, wondering why we even bothered.
Luckily, the bands had our backs. A few shoutouts from the stage changed everything and we swabbed 13 new potential donors. Not a massive haul, but better than nothing. Donations, though? Brutal. We only pulled in about five bucks - barely a dent in gas money for the next stretch of tour. It didn’t help that I was having a depression kind of day - the kind where everything feels heavier, and my brain just refuses to cooperate. I couldn’t problem-solve, couldn’t think through the best steps. I was just stuck, watching everything unfold and feeling like I wasn’t doing enough.
So yeah, I’m a little stressed. But we keep pushing forward. Because that’s what we do. Tour isn’t just shows and swabs and community - it’s everything in between. The high of seeing people show up, engage, and give a damn. The lows of figuring out the day to day issues when all I want to do is cry. Honestly yesterday I cried a hell of a lot.
The real reminder of why I keep going - even on the days when I just want to disappear into some quiet, no-name town - is the people who actually stop at the table. The ones who care, who ask questions, who remind me this work matters.
It’s the easiest, most obvious proof that punk is so much more than just music or a genre. It’s a lifeline - for me, for them, for all of us just trying to make it through.
Tonight, we’re in Anaheim at the House of Blues - one of the rare venues that has always welcomed us with open arms. No battles for table space, just a place where we actually belong. Should be a solid turnout and I am hoping to kick thiis cloud above my head away. Really looking at it, I have cried about every day this week. I easily need to figure something out.
After this, it’s up to San Francisco and Sacramento—three more nights on this run before rolling straight into the next one. No rest, just the road, the music, and the mission. Until next time.
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