I’ll do my part until Kingdom come
Whatever kingdom I am from
I’ll seek the truth and share my soul
With people from all different roads
I’ll brave the rugged path ahead
Regardless of when I’ll be dead
And when my name is called for help
I will provide my humble shell
I’ll hold the hands of those who reach
And offer advice when asked to lead
I’ll savor the earth and dwell it clean
And live off of my humble means
I’ll feed off the beauty in front of me
And turn away from mediocrity
I will love until my heart explodes
And nurture others to thrive and grow
Whatever the prayer, symbol, color or sea
I am you and you are me
Only as one can we be free
“Love is my religion”



Dear Dad,

What does infinity look like? A candle burns in your memory and I’m reminded of your bright and captivating spirit. A rare breed in a sometimes dark and hollowing world. But you never looked at it that way. To you, the world was a beautiful place, a place of hope, but what you didn’t know is you made it so. Part of me wants to believe that you are in a faraway place, much sweeter and more vivid than this, listening to your Frank Sinatra tapes, running your fingers across the top of a magic microphone as you contemplate your next theatrical gesture; awaiting you, all of the spaghetti and rice pudding that you could possibly hope for. Part of me wants to believe that you are at complete peace, and that you dance with the prettiest angels at night as they tire of their white-robed spouses. You have your own modest home, but instead of a box made of cement it is shaped more like a cloud, and as the world turns you watch it through a window in your kitchen, one of my most treasured spaces. Part of me wishes for these fantasies, the same part of me that longs to hear your laugh, and feel one of your nobody-loves-you-this-much-in-the-world hugs. It’s the little girl in me I guess, the one who’s been here all along but is veiled by the passing of time. After all, what does it mean to grow up anyway? But to become taller, and longer, and a little less plump and soft as the light in the sky wears our skin and callouses our soles.

Today marks four years since you’ve gone away, yet you are still my father, and I, still your daughter. It’s funny how that works. No matter how much time passes, or where I am in the world, I will always know those things to be true. I’ll never be fired from the job, and I sure as hell will never be able to walk away. And so, here we sit. Hand in hand, (figuratively) until the end of time. Maybe I mean to say for all eternity. How do we know which one is longer? Is one a euphemism for the other, or do they mean the same thing? This is what I need you around for dad. For these intricately curious questions that I just can’t get my head around.

Do you remember when you taught me about music? Well, you never did it directly like those eloquently sentimental movie scenes, but you did sing to me everyday that we were together. You put on old records and watched in delight as I reacted to them. All you would do was tell me to listen, never imposing any sort of grand opinion or traditional rating system to which I should abide by while doing so. You simply put it on, and allowed my imagination to do the rest. I must tell you, I never could have understood what all of that would have meant to me now. Maybe that is why I’ve always been able to appreciate new sounds as just that. New, non-intrusive, fresh, vibrant, and open to whatever my heart and mind should decide. What is more beautiful than that? I miss the joy you got out of it. I remember the look in your eyes, gleaming, and in awe as if you were hearing the music for the first time all over again. In the words of a true romantic and rat pack mogul, memories are made of this. And in the end, what else do we really have? I guess all that’s left for me to do is thank you, with all my heart dad. Thank you for helping me hear the music…


A Matter of Life and Death

Never before this time have we as a society been so incredibly OBSESSED with the idea of staying young. We change our hair, we change our clothes, we hang out at places where the young crowd goes. All the while forgetting about the bumps and bruises, the pain, and the sorrow that are what is really keeping us alive in the first place. We don’t want to accept the idea that things die, or fade, or even that things are sooner or later, despite our efforts, bound to change. We are products of this earth, we change and move just like the trees and oceans. Why are we so bewildered when we, marching to the same beat of the earth’s drum change and evolve? Whether we can swallow it or not, we must at some point digest the progression of life.

We can call it a progression because even when we feel as though we are moving backwards, the figurative clock continues to tick. It transcends the moments that make up our lives and right before our eyes, it builds our tomorrows. Let’s take a moment to accept the wicked ways of the world, but not for too long, because there is some great news! As the world around us lives and dies, and pushes us to change and grow, MUSIC, in it’s steadfast rebellion will continue to play. If we listen, we can hear it all around us, cheering us on and reminding us that we still have something to hold onto and connect with. Even when we feel it is the end of the world, for god sakes help us, music lives on…

Play something today that makes you feel alive, because just like the sophisticated tools that are crafted to chime marvelous melodies, we are the instruments that change the world.

The Beat

The beat of your heart… listen closely. What does it sound like? What does it feel like? What does it take to the make that beat dance? Maybe these are questions that we’ve never thought of answering, because in a way, our bodies answer them for us. Can you remember a time when you were having a bad day, and then you heard a great song on the radio, or your ipod, or your wide pandora web, and suddenly felt uplifted and revived? In an instant… no matter how down or indifferent you felt, everything just seemed, okay? What IS that moment? How do we get more of those glorious moments, and what do we even call them? Moments of illumination? Moments that, through the instantaneous trembling of our eardrums have somehow awakened us from a deep sleep? We’ll wonder for eternity about what the revelation is called, and maybe we’ll never really know how to define it. All we know is that in that moment… something happens inside of us. Something, somewhere, has descended a soundtrack upon our lives at the very perfect moment.

We want to record it, we want to hold onto it and never let it go, and then, just as soon as it arrives, it escapes us. It gives us flight, and uses that same magic to fly away. We yearn for that moment again like a drug. We stand perplexed, stopped in our tracks, forever changed, forever amazed. What just happened? What WAS the miracle that moved us with such grace and beauty? What was that UP, in the up and down swirling adventurous ride that we so generally and squarely call life? I have a small feeling that it was music, in it’s tremendously disarming and mysterious way, coming to our rescue.

A Musical Theory

“Hi, have you ever wondered what it would be like to listen to some music?
Well this is your big chance.
You see, music is much like a brochetted butterfly, with a shadowy prominade of effervescence, yet sloos down the bottom of misty mountains of darkness.
Like a flirtatious flounder upon a non-reflecting mirror.
God, what is this opaque window of comfort, that we cannot overcome?
It is a manifestation of loving.
It is a forest of emptiness and it is an ocean with no water except where that which fills it.
So as you listen to this masterpiece release yourself from the prison of captivity and let your soul free.
Because only a free soul can be captured by greedy soul theives.
Who will have sold it to Leprechaun gold miners.
But it is only when your soul is taken away, that you can take it back.
And this my friend, does not make any sense whatsoever, or does it, no it does not.
Ladies and Gentlemen I give you The Papercut Chronicles.”

-Gym Class Heroes