Day 1: Take Your Time

I’ve always felt that journaling is useless. If you can’t remember it, is it really worth remembering? What’s the point of writing down the minutiae of your little life? Write about politics. Write about art. Write poems with form, songs with meter changes, research papers. Don’t write about yourself. It’s so…self absorbed. It’s so…personal. Who…

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I Dream of Airplanes

Most nights, I dream of airplanes. Last night, I dreamt of one flying low, narrowly missing my childhood home, ripping the neighbors’ houses in half. No one was hurt. No one was home to see their homes cleft by this errant machine. They would arrive home later, tired from work, to see their roofs torn…

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That’s My Band. And We’re Fucking Awesome.

We played to a giant, empty room last night, where great pillars of wood swallowed up the sounds of four hands clapping. It’s not an easy thing, this music business, but you keep on doing it–watching the crowd thin out, telling yourself you’ll play for the love of it and sing for the heart of…

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Paris, je t’aime

For ten days and nine nights we have wandered Paris streets, smelling cheese, pastries, piss, sausages, flowers, falafel; hearing French babies giggle with glee while their mothers wiped cream from their faces; scanning menus; stopping for wine while waiting for the rain to pass; searching out chocolate, and art, and music; drinking in afternoons and…

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