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this is the day

This is the day. The epic banging downstairs has subsided, appearing randomly at no earlier that 6 at night when it does. There is no good explanation for why I restrung the old guitar today, and then the new one. I am almost drunk on the smell of their cases, like a museum of good intentions - here are scraps of paper with old lyrics on them, a spare cable, a phone number from a show three years ago. I have been writing these songs for over a year now, and today is the day the good microphone went on a stand.

That is how things happen - when you least expect them.

It is a fairly terrifying moment.

I think we all like to say "we need to get out of our comfort zones" which mostly means something like bungee jumping, or getting a new haircut. The idea of singing the confessions of a bunch of imaginary people feels like walking a tightrope with no net. Seeing it done well does not give me any false confidence. It just makes me respect those brave souls that shoulder a guitar …

the year of the rabbit (is never over)

How to believe in shooting stars

nothing

panthers, crows and sparrows

red pen, red blanket

the only thing that matters is what is in the picture

the zoo

two steps back, one step forward

this is the city

pictures (some from the windows)

in-between (there is no name)

How to drink coffee

the chapter to finish

the idiots and the children

Finish all of your soup and then you can have spaghetti

tooth fairies and curly fries (the torture museum)

Wake up, no Katz's

the first day (a dress rehearsal)

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best personal blogs