love
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listen to moon words on SoundCloud moon words oh my God/kill me now/only we would lay on the New York City trains/sun and The Kills/it’s a good afternoon/like it shines on me/how strange it is to be/anything at all/let me hold it close and/keep it here with me/because kissing you/with good beats on/feels like me…
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this song is like a Polaroid picture, a one-of-a-kind image with a vintage look of a scene that can’t ever be fully replicated. by transferring it into words and melody I was able to recreate for myself a moment I will love forever. anyway, I promised one of my visitors who’s an amazing poet that…
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in group we tell each other you can’t recover if you don’t know what you’re recovering from. I don’t know exactly what I am recovering from. hurt, maybe? hurt is almost always telling me a truth. all this week I was thinking about the times I stood on the toilet seat holding the stall door…
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against all real evidence things have feelings, too. they don’t love in the human way, still: my thrift shop sweater, faded red and out at the elbows, has a story. I try to imagine the places it has been and who wore it before it was mine. the torn-up Adidas are retired now but they still trash-talk to me from the…
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when I was little, this straight-laced little kid, I sang in church all the time. the choir loft at St. Veronica’s seemed very near the sky. singing enveloped me. there was no sense of performance or judgment. no pressure. I just sang. I was aware of religion. I can’t say I understood much about practicing…
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when I made this song I was thinking about West 4th Street Courts aka The Cage in Greenwich Village. but it could be about anyplace in the city where sirens wail while streetball is played and two ropes swing on beat. you gave that person your heart and soul. you might have lost them, but…
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playing notes is the basic idea of music. but it’s an impression, and just a shallow one. it’s not enough to play the notes. what I really have to do as a musician is everything that is not in the notation (which by the way I can’t read anyway). the same way I need time…
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don’t tell me
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I love: the city. my guitars. my room. poetry. the church bells at Concord Baptist Church of Christ on Marcy Ave. street art, movement art, lo-budget indie films, dogs and cats, hoops, my friends, the sky, the ocean, my bike, skateboarding, a blossoming almond tree, almendrados (Spanish almond cookies), soccer, adidas, music, healers and dealers…
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Nasser Candy is a bodega on Church Avenue in Brooklyn. everyone there speaks corner store English. it’s just a chill place. I have been there, like, a hundred times. one day it hit different. or maybe it was exactly the same, but I was different. I’m not sure what happened. but I was going to make…
cookie nieves 