TOO TIRED

I don’t think I ever really meant to build a brand.

Too Tired came from a pretty shitty place, actually.

There was a period of my life where I kept saying I was just too tired to care.

Not physically tired.

Just tired of thinking. Tired of dealing with shit. Tired of carrying things I didn’t really know how to talk about.

So I found ways to shut it off.

Sometimes that was riding.

Sometimes it was drinking.

Sometimes it was working myself into the ground.

Sometimes it was just finding the next thing intense enough that I didn’t have to sit still for very long.

And for a while, I think I confused that feeling with freedom.

The motorcycle became part of it because there really is something about being on two wheels that makes everything else disappear.

You’re there.

You’re completely fucking there.

And I still love that.

I don’t think I ever really meant to build a brand.

Too Tired came from a pretty shitty place, actually.

There was a period of my life where I kept saying I was just too tired to care.

Not physically tired.

Just tired of thinking. Tired of dealing with shit. Tired of carrying things I didn’t really know how to talk about.

So I found ways to shut it off.

Sometimes that was riding.

Sometimes it was drinking.

Sometimes it was working myself into the ground.

Sometimes it was just finding the next thing intense enough that I didn’t have to sit still for very long.

And for a while, I think I confused that feeling with freedom.

The motorcycle became part of it because there really is something about being on two wheels that makes everything else disappear.

You’re there.

You’re completely fucking there.

And I still love that.

I don’t think I ever really meant to build a brand.

Too Tired came from a pretty shitty place, actually.

There was a period of my life where I kept saying I was just too tired to care.

Not physically tired.

Just tired of thinking. Tired of dealing with shit. Tired of carrying things I didn’t really know how to talk about.

So I found ways to shut it off.

Sometimes that was riding.

Sometimes it was drinking.

Sometimes it was working myself into the ground.

Sometimes it was just finding the next thing intense enough that I didn’t have to sit still for very long.

And for a while, I think I confused that feeling with freedom.

The motorcycle became part of it because there really is something about being on two wheels that makes everything else disappear.

You’re there.

You’re completely fucking there.

And I still love that.

But eventually I had to admit there was a difference between riding because I loved being alive and riding because I didn’t want to deal with my life.

That realization followed me into a lot of other things.

I started writing.

Mostly for myself.

I’d sit down trying to figure out why something was bothering me and somehow end up three pages deep into a thought I didn’t even know I had.

And every once in a while I’d read it back and think,

Fuck. That’s what I’ve been trying to say.

Eventually I realized those were the conversations I actually cared about.

Purpose. Fear. God. Grief. Love. Ambition. Addiction. Becoming somebody. Losing people. Fucking things up. Starting again.

All the shit underneath the normal conversation.

And the more I wrote, the more I realized I probably wasn’t the only person having those thoughts.

Maybe I was just willing to sit with them long enough to put words around them.

That’s really what Too Tired is.

It’s somewhere to put those thoughts.

Somewhere for the things we usually think about alone.

The motorcycle is still here because it was there when a lot of this started.

The roads are here.

The garages are here.

The late nights are here.

But this isn’t really a motorcycle brand.

And I’m not interested in pretending I have life figured out.

Most of what I write comes from realizing that I don’t.

I’m just trying to pay attention.

And if I can put something into words that makes somebody stop for a second and think,

I’ve felt that. I just didn’t know how to say it.

then this did what I wanted it to do.

That’s Too Tired.

But eventually I had to admit there was a difference between riding because I loved being alive and riding because I didn’t want to deal with my life.

That realization followed me into a lot of other things.

I started writing.

Mostly for myself.

I’d sit down trying to figure out why something was bothering me and somehow end up three pages deep into a thought I didn’t even know I had.

And every once in a while I’d read it back and think,

Fuck. That’s what I’ve been trying to say.

Eventually I realized those were the conversations I actually cared about.

Purpose. Fear. God. Grief. Love. Ambition. Addiction. Becoming somebody. Losing people. Fucking things up. Starting again.

All the shit underneath the normal conversation.

And the more I wrote, the more I realized I probably wasn’t the only person having those thoughts.

Maybe I was just willing to sit with them long enough to put words around them.

That’s really what Too Tired is.

It’s somewhere to put those thoughts.

Somewhere for the things we usually think about alone.

The motorcycle is still here because it was there when a lot of this started.

The roads are here.

The garages are here.

The late nights are here.

But this isn’t really a motorcycle brand.

And I’m not interested in pretending I have life figured out.

Most of what I write comes from realizing that I don’t.

I’m just trying to pay attention.

And if I can put something into words that makes somebody stop for a second and think,

I’ve felt that. I just didn’t know how to say it.

then this did what I wanted it to do.

That’s Too Tired.

But eventually I had to admit there was a difference between riding because I loved being alive and riding because I didn’t want to deal with my life.

That realization followed me into a lot of other things.

I started writing.

Mostly for myself.

I’d sit down trying to figure out why something was bothering me and somehow end up three pages deep into a thought I didn’t even know I had.

And every once in a while I’d read it back and think,

Fuck. That’s what I’ve been trying to say.

Eventually I realized those were the conversations I actually cared about.

Purpose. Fear. God. Grief. Love. Ambition. Addiction. Becoming somebody. Losing people. Fucking things up. Starting again.

All the shit underneath the normal conversation.

And the more I wrote, the more I realized I probably wasn’t the only person having those thoughts.

Maybe I was just willing to sit with them long enough to put words around them.

That’s really what Too Tired is.

It’s somewhere to put those thoughts.

Somewhere for the things we usually think about alone.

The motorcycle is still here because it was there when a lot of this started.

The roads are here.

The garages are here.

The late nights are here.

But this isn’t really a motorcycle brand.

And I’m not interested in pretending I have life figured out.

Most of what I write comes from realizing that I don’t.

I’m just trying to pay attention.

And if I can put something into words that makes somebody stop for a second and think,

I’ve felt that. I just didn’t know how to say it.

then this did what I wanted it to do.

That’s Too Tired.