At our average show, we spend about twice as much time shuffling our instruments and gear in and out of venues than we do actually playing our instruments (or, in Sam’s case, “playing” his “instrument.”) While the process has had its benefits, such as well-developed pecs and deltoids, it has grown tiresome. It may be a good long while before we acquire roadies and the like, but that has not stopped me from regularly fantasizing about what life will be like when that happens.

When we are rock stars.

<Enter Auyon’s dream sequence>

When we become rock stars, someone else will carry my mandolin and my violin into every venue, set up my instruments, rosin my bow, tie my shoes, and shake Don in the bathroom while he is urinating just to get him riled up before the show.

When we become rock stars, someone else will cook our meals, so that we will have more time to focus on our creative process.

When we become rock stars, someone else will write all of our music, to give us more time still.

When we become rock stars, someone else will perform said music on stage and in the studio, so that we will have time to do photo shoots for Rolling Stone and The Economist.

And so on. Thank you all for helping us chase our dreams. We will never forget your support, and will make sure to have our people’s people write you letters when we are absurdly rich and famous. Until then, please don’t laugh when you see me trying to pick up Sam’s drum hardware bag. I think I have developed a hernia.

Much love,

Auyon