with the house to myself this week, i've been spending hours a day sitting at this beautiful instrument, writing down the sounds that want to come through, that sound the most true, that carry feeling and shape story. this was my grandfather's piano, and i'm writing on his old unused staff paper - all the sheets have "opus" written at the top and it feels like that's what's happening // been feeling so grateful these past few days that i know how to compose and write music, that it's in my blood, and i love it and so may as well just give into it instead of ignoring or fighting it any longer // it's wild how long i spent pushing away what is easeful and joyful in favor of what was the most challenging, in favor of deprivation, in favor of trying to fit in // that can only go on for so long though // now i let life be like music // feel and flow // 🖤
after much nomadness these past few months, finally setting up the music studio again—feels so good to be playing with sounds, touching keys, getting ready for a week and a half of recording, of full-on sonic creation and reality-weaving in which all is allowed (aloud) and possible and the journey is the destination // also feels good and potent to be doing this on election eve, to be sculpting sound and time as a way of birthing new and life-giving worlds // love //
when it rains at the coast, I like to creep around in dune thickets taking pictures of mushrooms 🍄 it's like looking for faeries... also, none of the amanitas except this one (in the last pic) wanted to be photographed! there were so many out there, but every time i took a picture of one, either the photo would immediately vanish or the phone would stop working. this one was gracious enough to let me, though (and was definitely as big as my outstretched hand). so compelled by these beings...
this evening, i experienced the magnificent pleasure of witnessing bread and puppet in person for the first time in twelve years. the two summers i spent apprenticing and working with b+p on their land in northeastern vermont, all those moons ago, transformed and utterly shaped who i am as a human and artist—and tonight, in the audience for the portland stop of their tour, i laughed and clapped and felt so much, and was so glad and grateful to be with every person in that sweet little theater. everything about bread and puppet inspires me—from the bright surreal political circuses, to mysterious almost-ambient wild dusk lantern-lit processions at the forest's edge, to barns and broken-down buses full of art and costumes and puppets and painted on the outside with bold magic, to fiddles and gorgeous hand-built outhouses and eating all together outside every day, to laughter and languages and color and inclusion and handmade life... aaand now i'm going off on my bread and puppet love-ramble, so instead i'll just say there are good things happening in the world, wild and wise and joyful things, full of earth-created beauty and raucous truth and cardboard and fabric and music and mud and love. look out, california, they're coming for you next ✨
