songwriting
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a pause can be as beautiful as the note. it can make you want the note more.
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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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sunshine today. I just want it on my face. nothing heavy happening for me. so I will skate. when I’m moving, there is no time to think, or feel bad about myself or anything.
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I think people see me differently than I see myself. it’s like I see myself as a giant fuck up, but now and then, here and there, I don’t know, I get the feeling that I matter. I feel this way when I’m playing and singing in group or some hole in the wall, even…
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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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sometimes I think the only place I can make a song is when I’m at the grocery store, listening to the sound of people while waiting in the checkout line. I keep an eye and ear open for what people cast off: half-sentences. corner store English. if the timing’s right, I’ll catch a major blowout between…
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the thing I most dreaded when I began making songs at age 12 was being killed in a classic Brooklyn hit-and-run before I could create a world-famous masterpiece. not so much anymore. these days I don’t sit and wonder if my next song will make me famous, or whether someday critics will consider it a…
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yesterday I swapped the everyday for staying at home, to hum and strum, and make music without being noticed. a day by myself, to do only what I love to do the most. I didn’t feel lonely, or miss anyone, or wish I was somewhere I was not. some might find that sad. but why is allowing myself,…
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the Nirvana tribute band I heard at this club the other night didn’t disappoint. the lead singer sounded just like Kurt Cobain. he was beautiful and had hair like him, he moved like him, and even had the Mr. Rogers-style chunky green sweater. every Nirvana song they played they totally nailed. it was amazing the…