CAPE TOWN, February 2020.

Today I went to the beach and there were small jellyfish all over the sand and in the water. They’re called “blue bottles”. If you step on them it’s fully brutal. Massive stinger.

Last year my friend Steve got stung on the leg. He was in so much pain that he asked all his friends to pee on his leg to stop the pain. After everyone was out of pee, he bent his wiener around and peed on his own leg. You have to watch where you walk and swim here.

The surreal thing is that there are kids and toddlers running all over the beach. People are laying in the sand with jellyfish within a few feet of them. No one is concerned. This beach would be shut down so fast in America. Angry citizens would sue the beach in a court of law.

The culture here in South Africa has not yet been nerfed. People are tough. Less emotional. They let their kids run around jellyfish beaches. If they step on one, it’s a free education. Thick skin is in.

There is a certain jive in the air that boosts morale. The locals have a pep in their step. Their friendliness is genuine. They don’t hassle you. It takes nearly a century to fly here, so the locals appreciate you traveling to visit them at the bottom of the continent.

When I first came here in 2013, Internet was sparse. You basically couldn’t download or stream music. Thus, cds were seen as gold. It was like being in the 90s. Albums were flying off the merch table. I think I sold 40 cds at my first show. It was an inspiring first place to tour as a solo musician.

South Africa didn’t get many touring acts, so they were amped for anyone to come. I got a ton of encouragement on that first tour, even in my raw, inexperienced, rookie form. This was the place that really made me believe I could make it as a solo musician.

At one point in that tour I ran out of albums, and I asked my US label (Good Land Records) to send some down. Shipping merch into the country is mostly impossible. The post office is in shambles and you must bribe several grown men to actually get your goods (if they even arrive).

When you get to the post office, there are 23 employees just standing around looking very confused. I went to three different post office locations until I eventually located the box of records. By the end of the mission, I had spent 7 hours, $120, and bribed three men to get the package into my possession. Such is SA. You gotta pay the sunshine tax.

Today I will hop on a plane and fly two hours to the mega city of Johannesburg. There should be a good crowd at the show tomorrow. It’s been three years, so it’ll be great to see everyone again.

You must keep your wits about you in Joburg. Walking around at night by yourself is a guaranteed mugging. Poverty is rampant. Many of my friends have been mugged at some point. It’s just standard procedure. You don’t carry much cash on you. Just don’t walk at night. Play by the guidelines, and you’re good. I’ve been followed by sketchy dudes a few times, but was always able to shake them by dipping into a store front or hauling ass in the other direction.

One afternoon in Johannesburg I played a festival to nearly 2,000 people. Some kids knew the words to the songs. They were going mental. What a rush. A fully surreal high. The next night I played a small club to two people. TWO. They were both on their phones. What made it worse was that they were somewhat friends of mine. I still remember those fuckers names seven years later.

Fortunately I had a band mate; a local drummer named Leighton Danger Dog Powell; a large bearded man who offered me a couch to crash on. Hoping to shut down the cell-phoning patrons, I cracked a joke about them turning into cyborgs or some shit. They didn’t look up from their phones. I looked over at my drummer Leighton....That motherfucker was on his phone too!

I don’t know how people get egos in this business. There are too many variables that can unleash and crush your soul back into the red. In the music business, the odds are stacked against you. A positive attitude is one of the only defenses, they said. The beatings will continue until morale improves, they said.

In a weird way, I like the beatings that the music industry administers. It’s like a fucked up form of exercise for me. Humans need to exercise emotionally. We need to be challenged to evolve. There will never be a lack of challenges in this industry (in most industries), both physically and emotionally.

The music biz tests your emotional stamina. It tests your ability to maintain healthy relationships and mental stability in a wobbly environment of neurosis, drunks, angry soundmen, social media desperation, fake niceness & smoke and mirrors. But often I even wonder if I need to participate in these aspects of the industry. If quarantine has taught us anything, it's that we can delete many aspects of our previous life and be totally fine without them.