Summer Studio. 2016. R.I.P.

DCIM100GOPRO
My childhood bedroom converted into a recording studio by a 24 year old college grad whose apprehension about how to move forward in life stalled him from producing the truthful music abundant somewhere inside of him. This perfect-looking studio, a year removed, pains me for I did not have the hustle required to kill this space and make it work for me. Looking back, it is a solid lesson in forming habits, scheduling, and hustling your ass off if you wish to produce something worthwhile. Now, the desk is dismantled. The keyboard is gone. The blue lights on the amp head and the interface are phased off. The plants are gone. The house is sold. The books were donated. The shadows cast by me will never cast again in this room. I think the weight of this, the weight of my youth, stifled me out of creating. Luckily, there is only moving forward now. 
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sharing cool things

“I have misunderstood the process of making something cool as the process of making something to share.”

No. As the lady at a crafts booth told me, “You are an asshole if you don’t share your art.”

She had strewn about handmade keychains, picture frames, pastel block prints, planters.

This was 6 months ago. This is now.

I don’t know what I am doing. I am picking up equipment to record through the winter.

Here it is. Let’s go for it.

(dives into the water but makes no splashing sound)

Here it is. Let’s go for it.

(leaps back onto the bridge. runs to the garage with a sweater on).

“Here is a guy who everyone wanted to hang out with, but he did not want to hang out with very many people.”

How can this continue as such madness?
Become domesticated or share what you’ve made of your anxieties.
(with grace, if possible).

This was 10 months ago. Now I am entering music
into the S.E. Alaska State Fair songwriter competition,
though last years winner won with a song called “That’s my Mom!”

I have songs to share with you. (Mountain Lion. Profanity Peak. Northwestern Debris).

She had said, “You are an asshole if you don’t share your work.
You have no idea what kind of good it might do for someone
else. Maybe it inspires them to make art of their own. How god-damn
rewarding would that be to know you opened a stranger up
to the wonder and the joy of bringing new ideas into the world?”

Here it is. Let’s go for it.

Fire at the Woodland Park Night Exhibit

The attic of the nocturnal creatures exhibit at the zoo lit on fire and some speculation suggested a vampire bat was exposed to light and combusted, burning up the place, filling the cages with smoke, the empty cages, and now, as a result, a firefighter has minor injuries to be dealt with, little burns, or a sprained wrist.  Continue reading

unknown concert 4 yrs ago

This morning I’ll try to assuage my terrible fog-machine head ache with many cups of dark, dark coffee. I will count the slices and cuts on my knuckles, imagine getting four letter word tattoos on them that work well together. At the show, there was a multitude of strange personalities and all of them drunk or drunker, yelling incoherent phrases at the others, tall guys block path, “singing along.”