I Needed To Carve Out

With Time The Unbearable Becomes Shocking, Becomes Sad, And Finally Becomes Poignant.

Sometimes The Fragment Of A Conversation, The Color Of The Sky, The Image In A Dream, Has Everything To Do With Where The Song Begins.

More And More, I See Myself As A Folk Musician, And Someone Who Values Context.

I Have A Real Worker-bee Mentality. Just Show Up, Just Do It. Even If You Feel Like S--t And You Think You're Terrible And You'll Never Get Better And It Will Never Go Anywhere, Just Show Up And Do It. And, Eventually, Something Happens.

I Dream Of Songs. I Dream They Fall Down Through The Centuries, From My Distant Ancestors, And Come To Me. I Dream Of Lullabies And Sea Shanties And Keening Cries And Rhythms And Stories And Backbeats.