Dispatches from the Circuit
This is where I put the route memos, prop failures, crowd reports, and the occasional confession that should have stayed in a parking lot outside Kokomo. I write it down because the road eats everything you do not.
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.
Gary, Hammond, East Chicago — school assemblies where the gym smells like floor wax and moral compromise.
La Porte through Tippecanoe — performing next to generators and funnel cake smoke while the midway tries to kill every bit I have.
South Bend — where I resew everything that split during the season and pretend the downtime is voluntary.