A solo tour diary of sorts. Mostly random shit that I feel is not necessary to send via a txt message or an e-mail. Like how every day on the Cape I passed by a street sign that reads “Crowell’s Bog Rd” and I think it says “Cromwell’s Bog,” because, really, the image of Oliver Cromwell knee-deep in a Cranberry bog is fantastic, regardless of my Dada Dyslexia.