Bob Dylan from '63. Single track, single take, broken guitar and broken man trying to sing and forgetting Bob's beautiful lyrics. Lay down your weary tune, lay down, Lay down the song you strum, And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings…

Stumble across A crack in the sidewalk Jolted back to the dry city air I thought I was ready I hear myself crying Just get home before anyone stares Can't feel a thing except fingernails piercing skin Cover the wounds Try to fit in…

Tear-stained skin weathers resting near as the sun is born A sacrament to visions of sorrow and seasons of remorse Butterflies disturb the light with dance Flowers sway and gently bend Beckoning with soul the wind Life brings another chance…

There's a story behind this that's uninteresting to anyone but me. A short version is that my old, broken guitar (made semi-immortal with duct tape and instrumental willpower) needed to play this Dylan song before it is laid to rest.

This is a song my late-night self apparently left for my morning self to think about. I admit it just keeps gnawing at me, maybe not in a good way. ... Nineteen, standing by the ocean for the first time Gazing long at the sea feeling the…

Messing around with mixing. Sometimes I wonder if your hair is still black and long If your eyes are still brown and staring shyly at the ground If your button nose still curves just so If your eyes still stay close when you laugh Sometimes…

“On Vices and Their Opposite Virtues and In Whom They Are and About What,” - Philodemus