I hope it all makes you chuckle at how often we let fear and societal expectations keep us from doing what we love—and how much fun it is to shrug at past mistakes and throw yourself down the joy slide anyway.
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Regrets Only is out. It’s my birthday. Let’s celebrate. As the album cover art instructs, “Follow your regrets to find the after party.” I did exactly that, and here we are. The ceremony starts when you press play.
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Each verse of “Meri Said” is a paraphrase of advice that offered me a way out of the waves, you could say. It’s the second single off of the album Regrets Only, out February 15, 2024.
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I wrote "Invitation" at a time when life felt shut off and unyielding. I wrote it to try to stop waiting at closed doors and invite myself into a bigger life. It’s the first single off my upcoming album, Regrets Only, out February 15, 2024.
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I’m getting more used to the contractions and expansions that an attentive life demands. Hierarchical hyper-capitalism tries to impose the conformist mono-grind on us all. Resistance and a fierce loyalty to your own beat is the only way to stay alive and growing.
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I'm trying to notice the new things, the good things, the real things. I'm trying to be right here, dancing to the bridge.
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Play restores us and reminds us who we are outside of our jobs, goals and daily demands: Just squishy-hearted humans with wildly creative brains that need breath and rest and silliness.
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Maybe ease is more of a collaboration than an accident? Maybe it’s not something that only appears like a gift, but also something we can bid, call on or conjure?
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This otter didn't seem too concerned with the outcome of her fight for a better feast. She just rolled over, backstroked away, slid under the surface. I think of her there, doing lazy laps, looking for the next flash of orange web, her next big bite. Maybe she is doing exactly what she's supposed to be doing: Wanting more.
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Being a very, very good planner makes me an artist who can turn my fantasies into finished pieces. It also makes me stubborn, inflexible, incurious and moody. When my plans fail, I get dark, and I get dark fast.
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I spent a week hiking (and working, always working) with some friends in the mountains. During a long trek, one friend turned around and asked: "How are you becoming more yourself?"
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I've been wanting to write something about art and the in between, but keep getting frustrated because I can't see myself to a point, to a thesis, to a terminus. Isn't it ironic?
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I’ve gone full nomad. I knew in a still, quiet and sure place that I needed to go. Because I need a wider, wilder world right now. I need to be shook up, unstuck and remade. I need to be surprised.
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Is the disconnect between ongoing ambiguous grief and The Most Wonderful Time of the Year especially harsh this season? It seems so. If you’re feeling a chasm opening up where the cheer should be—and it’s messing with your creative practice—you’re not alone.
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Among former McDavid Hall residents, the idea is common: We’ve been searching for another McDavid ever since we left.
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“Guess Who Showed Up Again” takes place at a car wash, and it’s probably the closest thing to a love song I’ve ever written.
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Ghosty thinks she’s happier when I stay extra quiet and don’t ask for any attention, but what Ghosty really wants is to be heard.
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Today, we’ve got two unchosen obsessions (revisiting risk equations and trying to figure out where to put this rage) and one subversively delicious one (celebrating status-free luxuries).
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A very special "collective effervescence" episode of Three Minor Obsessions. Plus: Quiet Takes shows on 7/17 and 8/14!
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I’m eating farm-stand strawberries and obsessing over concert tickets, comedies that make me cry, and learning to tolerate groundlessness.
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