If there is one drive that I dread on tour it is driving through West Texas. It’s more than just long. It’s boring as well. I’m not sure what the population is between El Paso and Dallas, but I can’t imagine there are more than 50,000 people living in the cities that dot the 650-mile stretch combined. Of course I’m not dealing with concrete facts, what fun would that be? The point is that there is nothing. I don’t mean there is nothing like Wisconsin or Iowa where there is a lot of forest and farmland. I mean there is nothing at all. No houses, no restaurants, no farms, there is rarely more than desert brush. So I downed an energy drink in Las Cruces, NM (just over the border) and steeled myself for the long boring journey.

Almost ten years ago my buddy and I embarked on a mostly foolish but very exciting journey to bike New Zealand. There was a lot that I took away from that trip but more than anything I remember the views of the ocean from the Western shore of the South island. I was told over and over again that there was no other view like it in the world. Eventually locals would recant, “well, maybe in Big Sur.” Ever since then I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to drive the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) and make a judgment for myself. This May I finally got the chance to do just that.

In my experience, gay men feel like they have to ascribe to some sort of pre-determined lifestyle. This seems to be even more prevalent amongst folks that are older than me. It’s more than sex. It’s traverses all aspects of life. It applies to our musical and artistic tastes, physical appearance and ideas of beauty, even where we should live, work or eat. We talk a lot about being a supportive and uplifting community but we’re lying to ourselves if we don’t admit that there is a social hierarchy fueled by judgment and exclusivity. If there is one thing that defines what I hope to do with my music, it is my desire to create an experience that is creative, powerful and most importantly, inclusive. There are few times in my career where I felt that come together more than in Seattle and Portland.

Twelve years ago I left Kenosha and headed south towards the Kansas City area. I looked at a lot of colleges but not a one in Wisconsin. I wanted something different, something new, something that would force me out of my comfort zone. Missouri was that place.

It’s funny how naïve you are when you dive into the music business. I spent years under the impression that if I played music then people would listen. I remember begging venues to let me perform there. This went on for years. I had this vision that if I recorded an album and then sat in a coffeehouse with my guitar then people would be drawn in by the music, start a conversation, build a connection and I’d be well on my way to success. That’s never how it goes down.

Ohio is not an easy place to be gay, but there are a lot of people working to change that. In both Toledo and Cleveland I was hosted by progressive minded, LGBT friendly churches. As someone who has been very scarred by the hypocrisy of the Catholic Church and the Christian religion as a whole, I tend to proceed with caution. What I found was that both the Village Church in Toledo and the Pilgrim UCC Church in Cleveland were on the forefront of not only LGBT rights but also social justice as a whole.

Oil City, PA, is an extremely rural town in between Erie and Pittsburgh. The site of the first oil boom in America there was quickly a rush of people and money in search of more oil, then a depression as the oil ran out and the people and money left. It breaks my heart to say this, but what’s left is a pretty typical Pennsylvania town, where its best days as a city are the thing of the past.