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Maybe the real fire was in our hearts all along ❤️‍🔥
Maybe the real magic is the friends we’ve made along the way

Maybe the real fire was in our hearts all along ❤️‍🔥
Maybe the real magic is the friends we’ve made along the way

Maybe the real fire was in our hearts all along ❤️‍🔥
Maybe the real magic is the friends we’ve made along the way

Maybe the real fire was in our hearts all along ❤️‍🔥
Maybe the real magic is the friends we’ve made along the way

Maybe the real fire was in our hearts all along ❤️‍🔥
Maybe the real magic is the friends we’ve made along the way

Maybe the real fire was in our hearts all along ❤️‍🔥
Maybe the real magic is the friends we’ve made along the way

Maybe the real fire was in our hearts all along ❤️‍🔥
Maybe the real magic is the friends we’ve made along the way

Maybe the real fire was in our hearts all along ❤️‍🔥
Maybe the real magic is the friends we’ve made along the way

Today I am feeling lucky to have connected with @dogseatwind just a couple of weeks ago. Last night they put on a remarkable event to premiere their short film, “LE PROVE.” These women are sirens & sorceresses, muses & magicians. 2 pairs of best friends, half from Italy, half here - they all Play together as great jazz musicians. Their improvisational movements ebb & flow as they push & pull energy around the room.

Dance is a primordial art form. It is expression at its most exposed, exchange at its most intimate. As I continue to pursue my path in music, I’m so grateful for reminders that however many millennia later, we are all still just singing together, dancing around the fire.

While this collage of videos can’t come close to capturing the warm, entrancing pool of playfulness at @galeria.paloma - I just wanted to say I left feeling inspired. I am proud to have played a tiny part (and thank you @juli.m4a for your audio expertise!!) I met so many lovely, cool people. Nashville never ceases to surprise me. My cup is full ❤️‍🔥

Inaugural murder mystery at Somewhere Good! 🔪🔪🔪DROP DEAD GORGEOUS! 👠The character names I’m most proud of: Detective Hugh Dunnit🕵️‍♀️, Claire A. Voyant🔮, Mort Tality & Faye Tality 🧟, Rick O’Mortis 🧛‍♂️, Barry Bodies 🤠, Cole Blooded 🩸, and of course our drop dead gorgeous murderer…Belladonna Bloom 🥀 who killed Lucien in his bedroom with her poisonous perfume!

Inaugural murder mystery at Somewhere Good! 🔪🔪🔪DROP DEAD GORGEOUS! 👠The character names I’m most proud of: Detective Hugh Dunnit🕵️‍♀️, Claire A. Voyant🔮, Mort Tality & Faye Tality 🧟, Rick O’Mortis 🧛‍♂️, Barry Bodies 🤠, Cole Blooded 🩸, and of course our drop dead gorgeous murderer…Belladonna Bloom 🥀 who killed Lucien in his bedroom with her poisonous perfume!

Inaugural murder mystery at Somewhere Good! 🔪🔪🔪DROP DEAD GORGEOUS! 👠The character names I’m most proud of: Detective Hugh Dunnit🕵️‍♀️, Claire A. Voyant🔮, Mort Tality & Faye Tality 🧟, Rick O’Mortis 🧛‍♂️, Barry Bodies 🤠, Cole Blooded 🩸, and of course our drop dead gorgeous murderer…Belladonna Bloom 🥀 who killed Lucien in his bedroom with her poisonous perfume!

Inaugural murder mystery at Somewhere Good! 🔪🔪🔪DROP DEAD GORGEOUS! 👠The character names I’m most proud of: Detective Hugh Dunnit🕵️‍♀️, Claire A. Voyant🔮, Mort Tality & Faye Tality 🧟, Rick O’Mortis 🧛‍♂️, Barry Bodies 🤠, Cole Blooded 🩸, and of course our drop dead gorgeous murderer…Belladonna Bloom 🥀 who killed Lucien in his bedroom with her poisonous perfume!

Inaugural murder mystery at Somewhere Good! 🔪🔪🔪DROP DEAD GORGEOUS! 👠The character names I’m most proud of: Detective Hugh Dunnit🕵️‍♀️, Claire A. Voyant🔮, Mort Tality & Faye Tality 🧟, Rick O’Mortis 🧛‍♂️, Barry Bodies 🤠, Cole Blooded 🩸, and of course our drop dead gorgeous murderer…Belladonna Bloom 🥀 who killed Lucien in his bedroom with her poisonous perfume!

Inaugural murder mystery at Somewhere Good! 🔪🔪🔪DROP DEAD GORGEOUS! 👠The character names I’m most proud of: Detective Hugh Dunnit🕵️‍♀️, Claire A. Voyant🔮, Mort Tality & Faye Tality 🧟, Rick O’Mortis 🧛‍♂️, Barry Bodies 🤠, Cole Blooded 🩸, and of course our drop dead gorgeous murderer…Belladonna Bloom 🥀 who killed Lucien in his bedroom with her poisonous perfume!

Inaugural murder mystery at Somewhere Good! 🔪🔪🔪DROP DEAD GORGEOUS! 👠The character names I’m most proud of: Detective Hugh Dunnit🕵️‍♀️, Claire A. Voyant🔮, Mort Tality & Faye Tality 🧟, Rick O’Mortis 🧛‍♂️, Barry Bodies 🤠, Cole Blooded 🩸, and of course our drop dead gorgeous murderer…Belladonna Bloom 🥀 who killed Lucien in his bedroom with her poisonous perfume!

Inaugural murder mystery at Somewhere Good! 🔪🔪🔪DROP DEAD GORGEOUS! 👠The character names I’m most proud of: Detective Hugh Dunnit🕵️‍♀️, Claire A. Voyant🔮, Mort Tality & Faye Tality 🧟, Rick O’Mortis 🧛‍♂️, Barry Bodies 🤠, Cole Blooded 🩸, and of course our drop dead gorgeous murderer…Belladonna Bloom 🥀 who killed Lucien in his bedroom with her poisonous perfume!

Inaugural murder mystery at Somewhere Good! 🔪🔪🔪DROP DEAD GORGEOUS! 👠The character names I’m most proud of: Detective Hugh Dunnit🕵️‍♀️, Claire A. Voyant🔮, Mort Tality & Faye Tality 🧟, Rick O’Mortis 🧛‍♂️, Barry Bodies 🤠, Cole Blooded 🩸, and of course our drop dead gorgeous murderer…Belladonna Bloom 🥀 who killed Lucien in his bedroom with her poisonous perfume!

Inaugural murder mystery at Somewhere Good! 🔪🔪🔪DROP DEAD GORGEOUS! 👠The character names I’m most proud of: Detective Hugh Dunnit🕵️‍♀️, Claire A. Voyant🔮, Mort Tality & Faye Tality 🧟, Rick O’Mortis 🧛‍♂️, Barry Bodies 🤠, Cole Blooded 🩸, and of course our drop dead gorgeous murderer…Belladonna Bloom 🥀 who killed Lucien in his bedroom with her poisonous perfume!

Inaugural murder mystery at Somewhere Good! 🔪🔪🔪DROP DEAD GORGEOUS! 👠The character names I’m most proud of: Detective Hugh Dunnit🕵️‍♀️, Claire A. Voyant🔮, Mort Tality & Faye Tality 🧟, Rick O’Mortis 🧛‍♂️, Barry Bodies 🤠, Cole Blooded 🩸, and of course our drop dead gorgeous murderer…Belladonna Bloom 🥀 who killed Lucien in his bedroom with her poisonous perfume!

The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion; the tunnel is.

The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion; the tunnel is.

The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion; the tunnel is.

The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion; the tunnel is.

The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion; the tunnel is.

The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion; the tunnel is.

The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion; the tunnel is.

The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion; the tunnel is.

The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion; the tunnel is.

The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion; the tunnel is.

The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion; the tunnel is.

The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion; the tunnel is.

The first time I saw this goat was back in April. It was my first time mowing my lawn since I’d been on tour for what seemed like a lifetime. It was warm out.
🐐
This white, wild goat wandered into my world, and I stopped and stared. It stared back. I was so caught off guard. So I looked up what omenistic interpretations there were for such an occurrence: the white purity of new beginnings, an unexpected guest representing a disruption of routine, a messenger of wild nature interrupting my attempt to reclaim order (mow my lawn. Control “my” nature.)
🐐
Then I saw it again. And then I saw it again. And again. At first, I worried for it. Where did it sleep? It seems beyond content to chew grass. There’s a large pond by my home, maybe it drinks from there. Plenty of woodlands and bushes to find somewhere to sleep.
🐐
The goat, however, doesn’t ever seem worried. The goat seems content. That’s such a good word: content. Each time I’ve seen it, I’ve stopped and enjoyed its company. That is a moment of contentment. It detaches me from that ever present feeling of rushing. There is no rush. There never is.
🐐
Omens are what you make of them. The perspective we place on people, the patterns we pay attention to, the ones we forget so easily…it’s all in the framing. What song do you attach to the story? Amazing how much a song can affect _________.
🐐
“We’ll do whatever just to stay alive.
Well, the way I feel is the way I write;
these are not the thoughts of a man who lies.
There is a truth, and it’s on our side:
dawn is coming, open your eyes.
Look into the sun as the new days rise.”
— José González, “Stay Alive” from “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” (2013)
🐐
Dalton told me a few weeks ago that I’m the luckiest person he knows. I simultaneously loved that characterization, and I resented it. For about 3 years now I have been intentionally, painfully splitting open my life, chipping away at marble in an attempt to create space to receive _________ from the universe.
🐐
So, am I lucky? Unequivocally, yes. A lot of my days it doesn’t feel that way, but each & every time I see the neighborhood goat, on those days, I know that I am.
🕊️
-jack ᵕ̈

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

Stranger days, grateful for familiar faces ᵕ̈
(AKA i love yall)

I turned another year older today. Some years ago, I started to curate this playlist called The Odditorium that a good handful of folks followed, and I used to be quite proud of it. I used to update it every week, then it became every month, then it became sporadic. I don’t recall the last time I refreshed it, but I did today. There’s intros, interludes, themes & motifs, a denouement & an epilogue. (link in bio)
🌀
“The opposite of DEpression is EXpression.” I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it feels true for me. The act of pulling from within and creating something outside of myself is cathartic. It’s a journal of sorts. Moments and memories hang from & orbit around these songs. People, places, pains, and pleasures; these concepts crawl through the compositions. By arranging them, I’m arranging fragments of my Self on the table before me. The curation is a meditation.
🧩
It’s maybe a mosaic of where I’ve been, and could be a compass for where I’m going. More likely, it is just tunes I think are dope.
😮‍💨
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to divine meaning, to stitch my story into something coherent. But so often I don’t know how I feel about something or someone until I hear the right song. They make sense of things I can’t quite name. It’s like putting on the right prescription glasses & your vision becoming clear.
🤓
So here’s another chapter of The Odditorium. If you listen, I hope it meets you wherever you are. That’s right where you are supposed to be. Catch you on the next one 🤙
🖼️
Artwork by @hayden_clay

I turned another year older today. Some years ago, I started to curate this playlist called The Odditorium that a good handful of folks followed, and I used to be quite proud of it. I used to update it every week, then it became every month, then it became sporadic. I don’t recall the last time I refreshed it, but I did today. There’s intros, interludes, themes & motifs, a denouement & an epilogue. (link in bio)
🌀
“The opposite of DEpression is EXpression.” I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it feels true for me. The act of pulling from within and creating something outside of myself is cathartic. It’s a journal of sorts. Moments and memories hang from & orbit around these songs. People, places, pains, and pleasures; these concepts crawl through the compositions. By arranging them, I’m arranging fragments of my Self on the table before me. The curation is a meditation.
🧩
It’s maybe a mosaic of where I’ve been, and could be a compass for where I’m going. More likely, it is just tunes I think are dope.
😮‍💨
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to divine meaning, to stitch my story into something coherent. But so often I don’t know how I feel about something or someone until I hear the right song. They make sense of things I can’t quite name. It’s like putting on the right prescription glasses & your vision becoming clear.
🤓
So here’s another chapter of The Odditorium. If you listen, I hope it meets you wherever you are. That’s right where you are supposed to be. Catch you on the next one 🤙
🖼️
Artwork by @hayden_clay

I turned another year older today. Some years ago, I started to curate this playlist called The Odditorium that a good handful of folks followed, and I used to be quite proud of it. I used to update it every week, then it became every month, then it became sporadic. I don’t recall the last time I refreshed it, but I did today. There’s intros, interludes, themes & motifs, a denouement & an epilogue. (link in bio)
🌀
“The opposite of DEpression is EXpression.” I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it feels true for me. The act of pulling from within and creating something outside of myself is cathartic. It’s a journal of sorts. Moments and memories hang from & orbit around these songs. People, places, pains, and pleasures; these concepts crawl through the compositions. By arranging them, I’m arranging fragments of my Self on the table before me. The curation is a meditation.
🧩
It’s maybe a mosaic of where I’ve been, and could be a compass for where I’m going. More likely, it is just tunes I think are dope.
😮‍💨
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to divine meaning, to stitch my story into something coherent. But so often I don’t know how I feel about something or someone until I hear the right song. They make sense of things I can’t quite name. It’s like putting on the right prescription glasses & your vision becoming clear.
🤓
So here’s another chapter of The Odditorium. If you listen, I hope it meets you wherever you are. That’s right where you are supposed to be. Catch you on the next one 🤙
🖼️
Artwork by @hayden_clay

I turned another year older today. Some years ago, I started to curate this playlist called The Odditorium that a good handful of folks followed, and I used to be quite proud of it. I used to update it every week, then it became every month, then it became sporadic. I don’t recall the last time I refreshed it, but I did today. There’s intros, interludes, themes & motifs, a denouement & an epilogue. (link in bio)
🌀
“The opposite of DEpression is EXpression.” I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it feels true for me. The act of pulling from within and creating something outside of myself is cathartic. It’s a journal of sorts. Moments and memories hang from & orbit around these songs. People, places, pains, and pleasures; these concepts crawl through the compositions. By arranging them, I’m arranging fragments of my Self on the table before me. The curation is a meditation.
🧩
It’s maybe a mosaic of where I’ve been, and could be a compass for where I’m going. More likely, it is just tunes I think are dope.
😮‍💨
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to divine meaning, to stitch my story into something coherent. But so often I don’t know how I feel about something or someone until I hear the right song. They make sense of things I can’t quite name. It’s like putting on the right prescription glasses & your vision becoming clear.
🤓
So here’s another chapter of The Odditorium. If you listen, I hope it meets you wherever you are. That’s right where you are supposed to be. Catch you on the next one 🤙
🖼️
Artwork by @hayden_clay

I turned another year older today. Some years ago, I started to curate this playlist called The Odditorium that a good handful of folks followed, and I used to be quite proud of it. I used to update it every week, then it became every month, then it became sporadic. I don’t recall the last time I refreshed it, but I did today. There’s intros, interludes, themes & motifs, a denouement & an epilogue. (link in bio)
🌀
“The opposite of DEpression is EXpression.” I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it feels true for me. The act of pulling from within and creating something outside of myself is cathartic. It’s a journal of sorts. Moments and memories hang from & orbit around these songs. People, places, pains, and pleasures; these concepts crawl through the compositions. By arranging them, I’m arranging fragments of my Self on the table before me. The curation is a meditation.
🧩
It’s maybe a mosaic of where I’ve been, and could be a compass for where I’m going. More likely, it is just tunes I think are dope.
😮‍💨
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to divine meaning, to stitch my story into something coherent. But so often I don’t know how I feel about something or someone until I hear the right song. They make sense of things I can’t quite name. It’s like putting on the right prescription glasses & your vision becoming clear.
🤓
So here’s another chapter of The Odditorium. If you listen, I hope it meets you wherever you are. That’s right where you are supposed to be. Catch you on the next one 🤙
🖼️
Artwork by @hayden_clay

I turned another year older today. Some years ago, I started to curate this playlist called The Odditorium that a good handful of folks followed, and I used to be quite proud of it. I used to update it every week, then it became every month, then it became sporadic. I don’t recall the last time I refreshed it, but I did today. There’s intros, interludes, themes & motifs, a denouement & an epilogue. (link in bio)
🌀
“The opposite of DEpression is EXpression.” I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it feels true for me. The act of pulling from within and creating something outside of myself is cathartic. It’s a journal of sorts. Moments and memories hang from & orbit around these songs. People, places, pains, and pleasures; these concepts crawl through the compositions. By arranging them, I’m arranging fragments of my Self on the table before me. The curation is a meditation.
🧩
It’s maybe a mosaic of where I’ve been, and could be a compass for where I’m going. More likely, it is just tunes I think are dope.
😮‍💨
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to divine meaning, to stitch my story into something coherent. But so often I don’t know how I feel about something or someone until I hear the right song. They make sense of things I can’t quite name. It’s like putting on the right prescription glasses & your vision becoming clear.
🤓
So here’s another chapter of The Odditorium. If you listen, I hope it meets you wherever you are. That’s right where you are supposed to be. Catch you on the next one 🤙
🖼️
Artwork by @hayden_clay

I turned another year older today. Some years ago, I started to curate this playlist called The Odditorium that a good handful of folks followed, and I used to be quite proud of it. I used to update it every week, then it became every month, then it became sporadic. I don’t recall the last time I refreshed it, but I did today. There’s intros, interludes, themes & motifs, a denouement & an epilogue. (link in bio)
🌀
“The opposite of DEpression is EXpression.” I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it feels true for me. The act of pulling from within and creating something outside of myself is cathartic. It’s a journal of sorts. Moments and memories hang from & orbit around these songs. People, places, pains, and pleasures; these concepts crawl through the compositions. By arranging them, I’m arranging fragments of my Self on the table before me. The curation is a meditation.
🧩
It’s maybe a mosaic of where I’ve been, and could be a compass for where I’m going. More likely, it is just tunes I think are dope.
😮‍💨
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to divine meaning, to stitch my story into something coherent. But so often I don’t know how I feel about something or someone until I hear the right song. They make sense of things I can’t quite name. It’s like putting on the right prescription glasses & your vision becoming clear.
🤓
So here’s another chapter of The Odditorium. If you listen, I hope it meets you wherever you are. That’s right where you are supposed to be. Catch you on the next one 🤙
🖼️
Artwork by @hayden_clay

I turned another year older today. Some years ago, I started to curate this playlist called The Odditorium that a good handful of folks followed, and I used to be quite proud of it. I used to update it every week, then it became every month, then it became sporadic. I don’t recall the last time I refreshed it, but I did today. There’s intros, interludes, themes & motifs, a denouement & an epilogue. (link in bio)
🌀
“The opposite of DEpression is EXpression.” I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it feels true for me. The act of pulling from within and creating something outside of myself is cathartic. It’s a journal of sorts. Moments and memories hang from & orbit around these songs. People, places, pains, and pleasures; these concepts crawl through the compositions. By arranging them, I’m arranging fragments of my Self on the table before me. The curation is a meditation.
🧩
It’s maybe a mosaic of where I’ve been, and could be a compass for where I’m going. More likely, it is just tunes I think are dope.
😮‍💨
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to divine meaning, to stitch my story into something coherent. But so often I don’t know how I feel about something or someone until I hear the right song. They make sense of things I can’t quite name. It’s like putting on the right prescription glasses & your vision becoming clear.
🤓
So here’s another chapter of The Odditorium. If you listen, I hope it meets you wherever you are. That’s right where you are supposed to be. Catch you on the next one 🤙
🖼️
Artwork by @hayden_clay

I turned another year older today. Some years ago, I started to curate this playlist called The Odditorium that a good handful of folks followed, and I used to be quite proud of it. I used to update it every week, then it became every month, then it became sporadic. I don’t recall the last time I refreshed it, but I did today. There’s intros, interludes, themes & motifs, a denouement & an epilogue. (link in bio)
🌀
“The opposite of DEpression is EXpression.” I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it feels true for me. The act of pulling from within and creating something outside of myself is cathartic. It’s a journal of sorts. Moments and memories hang from & orbit around these songs. People, places, pains, and pleasures; these concepts crawl through the compositions. By arranging them, I’m arranging fragments of my Self on the table before me. The curation is a meditation.
🧩
It’s maybe a mosaic of where I’ve been, and could be a compass for where I’m going. More likely, it is just tunes I think are dope.
😮‍💨
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to divine meaning, to stitch my story into something coherent. But so often I don’t know how I feel about something or someone until I hear the right song. They make sense of things I can’t quite name. It’s like putting on the right prescription glasses & your vision becoming clear.
🤓
So here’s another chapter of The Odditorium. If you listen, I hope it meets you wherever you are. That’s right where you are supposed to be. Catch you on the next one 🤙
🖼️
Artwork by @hayden_clay

I turned another year older today. Some years ago, I started to curate this playlist called The Odditorium that a good handful of folks followed, and I used to be quite proud of it. I used to update it every week, then it became every month, then it became sporadic. I don’t recall the last time I refreshed it, but I did today. There’s intros, interludes, themes & motifs, a denouement & an epilogue. (link in bio)
🌀
“The opposite of DEpression is EXpression.” I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it feels true for me. The act of pulling from within and creating something outside of myself is cathartic. It’s a journal of sorts. Moments and memories hang from & orbit around these songs. People, places, pains, and pleasures; these concepts crawl through the compositions. By arranging them, I’m arranging fragments of my Self on the table before me. The curation is a meditation.
🧩
It’s maybe a mosaic of where I’ve been, and could be a compass for where I’m going. More likely, it is just tunes I think are dope.
😮‍💨
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to divine meaning, to stitch my story into something coherent. But so often I don’t know how I feel about something or someone until I hear the right song. They make sense of things I can’t quite name. It’s like putting on the right prescription glasses & your vision becoming clear.
🤓
So here’s another chapter of The Odditorium. If you listen, I hope it meets you wherever you are. That’s right where you are supposed to be. Catch you on the next one 🤙
🖼️
Artwork by @hayden_clay

I turned another year older today. Some years ago, I started to curate this playlist called The Odditorium that a good handful of folks followed, and I used to be quite proud of it. I used to update it every week, then it became every month, then it became sporadic. I don’t recall the last time I refreshed it, but I did today. There’s intros, interludes, themes & motifs, a denouement & an epilogue. (link in bio)
🌀
“The opposite of DEpression is EXpression.” I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it feels true for me. The act of pulling from within and creating something outside of myself is cathartic. It’s a journal of sorts. Moments and memories hang from & orbit around these songs. People, places, pains, and pleasures; these concepts crawl through the compositions. By arranging them, I’m arranging fragments of my Self on the table before me. The curation is a meditation.
🧩
It’s maybe a mosaic of where I’ve been, and could be a compass for where I’m going. More likely, it is just tunes I think are dope.
😮‍💨
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to divine meaning, to stitch my story into something coherent. But so often I don’t know how I feel about something or someone until I hear the right song. They make sense of things I can’t quite name. It’s like putting on the right prescription glasses & your vision becoming clear.
🤓
So here’s another chapter of The Odditorium. If you listen, I hope it meets you wherever you are. That’s right where you are supposed to be. Catch you on the next one 🤙
🖼️
Artwork by @hayden_clay

I turned another year older today. Some years ago, I started to curate this playlist called The Odditorium that a good handful of folks followed, and I used to be quite proud of it. I used to update it every week, then it became every month, then it became sporadic. I don’t recall the last time I refreshed it, but I did today. There’s intros, interludes, themes & motifs, a denouement & an epilogue. (link in bio)
🌀
“The opposite of DEpression is EXpression.” I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it feels true for me. The act of pulling from within and creating something outside of myself is cathartic. It’s a journal of sorts. Moments and memories hang from & orbit around these songs. People, places, pains, and pleasures; these concepts crawl through the compositions. By arranging them, I’m arranging fragments of my Self on the table before me. The curation is a meditation.
🧩
It’s maybe a mosaic of where I’ve been, and could be a compass for where I’m going. More likely, it is just tunes I think are dope.
😮‍💨
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to divine meaning, to stitch my story into something coherent. But so often I don’t know how I feel about something or someone until I hear the right song. They make sense of things I can’t quite name. It’s like putting on the right prescription glasses & your vision becoming clear.
🤓
So here’s another chapter of The Odditorium. If you listen, I hope it meets you wherever you are. That’s right where you are supposed to be. Catch you on the next one 🤙
🖼️
Artwork by @hayden_clay

I turned another year older today. Some years ago, I started to curate this playlist called The Odditorium that a good handful of folks followed, and I used to be quite proud of it. I used to update it every week, then it became every month, then it became sporadic. I don’t recall the last time I refreshed it, but I did today. There’s intros, interludes, themes & motifs, a denouement & an epilogue. (link in bio)
🌀
“The opposite of DEpression is EXpression.” I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it feels true for me. The act of pulling from within and creating something outside of myself is cathartic. It’s a journal of sorts. Moments and memories hang from & orbit around these songs. People, places, pains, and pleasures; these concepts crawl through the compositions. By arranging them, I’m arranging fragments of my Self on the table before me. The curation is a meditation.
🧩
It’s maybe a mosaic of where I’ve been, and could be a compass for where I’m going. More likely, it is just tunes I think are dope.
😮‍💨
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to divine meaning, to stitch my story into something coherent. But so often I don’t know how I feel about something or someone until I hear the right song. They make sense of things I can’t quite name. It’s like putting on the right prescription glasses & your vision becoming clear.
🤓
So here’s another chapter of The Odditorium. If you listen, I hope it meets you wherever you are. That’s right where you are supposed to be. Catch you on the next one 🤙
🖼️
Artwork by @hayden_clay

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

🤠 five weeks on the dusty trail, wranglin this horse with my friends

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

It has been 365 days since I quit construction to try to get back into music full time & do something good with my life. I’m exhausted. I’ve never felt more alive.

A year ago, I was at the end of an 18 month plan. I lived in my car in a gym parking lot, working nights pouring concrete at a paper plate factory. Sacrificing sanity & soul in the crucible of creation. The plan is the plan. The path is the path. It costs what it costs. It takes what it takes.

This year has been a bull ride. The plan is nascent, but it’s working. Dalton tells me I’m a good writer, but in my attempt to articulate what this means to me, I am the proverbial blind men describing an ineffable elephant.

I feel lucky. I really do. Each show is a gift. I still feel 19, hanging flyers in the OG Masquerade. I waited in the room as the doors opened, right on the rail for Childish Gambino. I felt like I was getting away with something. I still do.

For so long I didn’t think I’d ever be here again. Blown chances, burned bridges, a pandemic. I’m reminded of Zach Bryan’s fever dream down that dark, cold road, when finally he stumbles on the warmest home he’d ever seen. It’s cozy with orange bulbs & a fire. The door opens, and She says, “where have you been? We been waitin on you all night. We’ve missed you!”

It turns out there are others finding the way. People with sore skulls from bumping ceilings they don’t deserve. Brilliant, funny, passionate people who see the world the way you do. We see each other’s value. We see the parts we all perform in The Great Play.

I imagine folks chiseling away the marble of their life, revealing the Self within. I’ve just been bouncing off the bumpers in a bowling lane, losing the unnecessary with each hit until I was all that was left. That’s why I quit my job. Not out of ambition or ideals, but out of an inability to feign any further. I’m just a fish who stopped trying to climb trees.

I’m going to do cool shit with my friends until I die. I’m going to do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. We only connect with others when we are connected with ourselves. Come now; there is much work to be done, and we’re burning daylight.

⚡️🌲, 🫶

⚡️🌲, 🫶

⚡️🌲, 🫶

⚡️🌲, 🫶

⚡️🌲, 🫶

⚡️🌲, 🫶

⚡️🌲, 🫶

⚡️🌲, 🫶

⚡️🌲, 🫶

“If you want to know how to do a thing you must first have a complete desire to do that thing. Then go to kindred spirits—others who have wanted to do that thing—and study their ways and means, learn from their successes and failures and add your quota. Thus you may acquire from the experience of the human race. And with this technical knowledge you may go forward, expressing through the play of forms the music that is in you and which is very personal to you.”
—Robert Henri, The Art Spirit (1927)
📸 @at_murphy

“If you want to know how to do a thing you must first have a complete desire to do that thing. Then go to kindred spirits—others who have wanted to do that thing—and study their ways and means, learn from their successes and failures and add your quota. Thus you may acquire from the experience of the human race. And with this technical knowledge you may go forward, expressing through the play of forms the music that is in you and which is very personal to you.”
—Robert Henri, The Art Spirit (1927)
📸 @at_murphy

“If you want to know how to do a thing you must first have a complete desire to do that thing. Then go to kindred spirits—others who have wanted to do that thing—and study their ways and means, learn from their successes and failures and add your quota. Thus you may acquire from the experience of the human race. And with this technical knowledge you may go forward, expressing through the play of forms the music that is in you and which is very personal to you.”
—Robert Henri, The Art Spirit (1927)
📸 @at_murphy

“If you want to know how to do a thing you must first have a complete desire to do that thing. Then go to kindred spirits—others who have wanted to do that thing—and study their ways and means, learn from their successes and failures and add your quota. Thus you may acquire from the experience of the human race. And with this technical knowledge you may go forward, expressing through the play of forms the music that is in you and which is very personal to you.”
—Robert Henri, The Art Spirit (1927)
📸 @at_murphy

🌲Of The Trees’ Moonglade Tour🌲
There was a 9 paragraph version of this caption. Too long for the character limit, but I sure as shit could count on these limitless characters! The world’s friendliest team of assassins!

🌲Of The Trees’ Moonglade Tour🌲
There was a 9 paragraph version of this caption. Too long for the character limit, but I sure as shit could count on these limitless characters! The world’s friendliest team of assassins!

🌲Of The Trees’ Moonglade Tour🌲
There was a 9 paragraph version of this caption. Too long for the character limit, but I sure as shit could count on these limitless characters! The world’s friendliest team of assassins!

🌲Of The Trees’ Moonglade Tour🌲
There was a 9 paragraph version of this caption. Too long for the character limit, but I sure as shit could count on these limitless characters! The world’s friendliest team of assassins!

🌲Of The Trees’ Moonglade Tour🌲
There was a 9 paragraph version of this caption. Too long for the character limit, but I sure as shit could count on these limitless characters! The world’s friendliest team of assassins!

🌲Of The Trees’ Moonglade Tour🌲
There was a 9 paragraph version of this caption. Too long for the character limit, but I sure as shit could count on these limitless characters! The world’s friendliest team of assassins!

🌲Of The Trees’ Moonglade Tour🌲
There was a 9 paragraph version of this caption. Too long for the character limit, but I sure as shit could count on these limitless characters! The world’s friendliest team of assassins!

🌲Of The Trees’ Moonglade Tour🌲
There was a 9 paragraph version of this caption. Too long for the character limit, but I sure as shit could count on these limitless characters! The world’s friendliest team of assassins!

🌲Of The Trees’ Moonglade Tour🌲
There was a 9 paragraph version of this caption. Too long for the character limit, but I sure as shit could count on these limitless characters! The world’s friendliest team of assassins!

🌲Of The Trees’ Moonglade Tour🌲
There was a 9 paragraph version of this caption. Too long for the character limit, but I sure as shit could count on these limitless characters! The world’s friendliest team of assassins!