I've got nothing to sell you today. I just wanted to say thank you.
I go back and forth every year on whether or not I want to do anything for Black Friday. I have in the past, and I may in the future, but for the last two years, I've simply opted to try harder to just be where I am, instead of everywhere I'm not, because I'm not good at just "being"... anywhere.
We've been pushing a lot of new stuff – new vinyl, new clothing line, new tour, etc. – and yesterday I decided that instead of asking for more, I'd be a good time to give something away.
This is a new video for an old poem that people have been asking for... for a very long time. It's called Infirmary [a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted]. It's about friends and family, and I figured there's no better time to share it with you than now.
Chris Commons and Lydia Anderson are the pros behind the camera. They literally donated all of their time for this video, and Harsh Men. All of it. Filming, directing, editing, post-production, everything. I couldn't be more thankful for everything they've given to these projects.
To those of you who have been asking for this video: I hope you love it. I hope you're able to spend time with friends and family today. Watch it with them. And if you find the holidays hard, or yourself alone... there's plenty of pain wrapped up in this poem, and you're not alone in that, either.
Yesterday – Thanksgiving – would have been my dad's birthday, were he still alive. There's a piece of him in everything that I write. Here, it's in the memories of those California drives, coming home to find him breaking. But yesterday was also my nephew's eleventh birthday. He got a Holly Holm poster and a Call of Duty sweater, and he couldn't be more excited about life. This Thanksgiving was the first year I didn't spend in California with my family, but I got to take my wife to see her's in Tucson. There seems to be a bittersweet taste to most things. You probably know it well. There's some dying and there's some living in everything, it seems.
We are not afraid of the darkness. There are cracks in every house. It's not houses we're worried about.
You matter. Thank you.