Almost every time one of these songs appears, I become a sloppy, crying mess.  There's something sacred about them. Or at least they are sacred to me. They are the truest expressions I can muster, although I'm not completely sure when this started. I mean, I'm an emotional guy. Probably too much so. Sometimes I wonder if there is something wrong with me. Anyway, it's not uncommon for 

These songs are sacred to me. They are the truest expressions I can muster from myself. Not every well of emotion or moment of life understanding (these usually cooncide) is represented by these songs, but when one does happen, I am incredibly honored. They are like spells. I can play them alone to myself to gain greater understanding, and I hope to play them to others and have them feel the same way.

I'm an emotional guy. Probably too much so. Sometimes I wonder if there is something wrong with me. 

I guess it started over Covid. I was in some transient state. Living at home and unsure of whether i was going to drop out of college completely or switch schools. I was burnt out on guitar.

These songs started appearing in my life about 4 years ago. I don't know how, and I don't know why. I've never really worked on songwriting. In fact, when I sit down and try to write, it never works. It always sounds like some disjointed, sappy, forced thing. But sometimes, out of nowhere, like some unstopable wave, this feeling overtakes me, and one of these song appears.

It's humbling. Everything I've ever done with my art has been so intentional, so controlled. I've spent months trying to perfect a practice routine for guitar, scrutinized every detail of a mix, distilled highly nuanced feelings into their corresponding technical executions.  I have pages and pages of notes on novel music theory concepts and compositional algorithms. I obsess over art. I'm a scientist. I pick it apart until I can't even feel it. I'm its master: in control of every aspect, able to bend it to my will, a keeper and a guardian with a duty to bestow feelings onto others.

And then one of these songs comes and breaks me down. I become a sloppy, crying mess. I'm taught some brutal lesson about myself. And I'm left wondering how the hell something like this ripped its way out of me and stitched the pieces into something altogether new. They're some of the most intense experiences I've ever had. And when they are over, I'll just sit there in wonder: so much control over me, seemingly knows better than anything I've ever dreamed up or logically thought out. Call it an act of God, my subconscious speaking, whatever. They reveal a deeper part of me, something truer and unstopably real.

I can't help but feel like I've repressed something.

When I was a kid, I always had this feeling like I was supposed to do something important. They (who the fuck even is they?) tell you this is ego. and it certainly gave me an ego, although I'll get to that in a second. But I'm not so sure that was it, partly because it manifested in some incredibly strange ways. I mean, what kind of weirdo 3 year old becomes obsessed with Tchaikovsky? I begged for a french horn (my high school girlfriend would tell me sternly that it is a "horn"!) for my fourth birthday and Christmas. My parents tell me I was singing the words to the "Oh Brother Where Art Thou" album before I could talk. Maybe this sounds like I'm bragging, and let me tell you, singing out the window to a bird when I was 4 felt pretty amazing, but the truth was that I just loved music. I felt like it was my responsibility to bask in it and spread its love to the world.

//I’ve been trying to figure out how to present them. And I guess by them, I mean me. Who did I need to be to maximize the impact of my work? What persona would best intrigue people? Mesmerize them? Make them think?

There's this thing that happens when your heart fills up with so much emotion that it spills out of every part of you. 

If you looked at my life right now, you'd think I was miserable. Broke, virgin, dropped out and jobless, only one good friend, and stuck on a girl from long ago. Often I've wondered  how I got here. Was it the crippling fear that kept me on the edge of the things I care about the most? What about the unattainable symbolic weight I put on firsts? Was it my principles? Was it perfectionism?

I've always tried to do the thing that made the most sense. 

I'm disoriented right now. 

This is so difficult for me. I have so much built up that I want to acheive from this project: goals I want to meet, situations and people I want to affect, things to prove to myself, things to prove to others, redemption, love, peace, and happiness in the future. I feel like I've actively lived my life for this thing since I've had memories. It has overwhelming potential, and therefore, overwhelming risk. 

I'm not really sure I ever had any say in the matter. My life has been weird. There have been really good things and really bad things, but they've always been extreme. I've always had a strong sense of self and had a lot of respect for my own concluions, but they often were seen as rebellious or contration which proved to be difficult in school. 

Over the past year, as we have neared the launch of this thing, life has intensified. Pieces have come into focus that seemed far off, forgotten. I've learned profound, life changing things from ruminations on people from 10 years ago. I've laser focussed my priorities. I have uncovered true, inescapable goals that emenate from my heart: things that I or others have pushed down since I was a kid and every moment since. My allegiance to my value system has been questioned to its breaking point.

I've found a way to deeply incorporate and make sense of every one of my experiences and memories. I know how I got here. I know what pushed me in this direction. I see all the mistakes I've made along the way. I know what I've learned. I know what I've lost. And I know what I'm going to do about it.

The truth is, I'm not sure if I've ever really had any choice in the matter. Life seems to do that. It opens and closes windows on you so abruptly. I feel like it was only yesterday that I was in sixth grade and I could see all the potential in myself and my friends, the duty we all had to everything and everyone fulfill it. Then there was the absolute helpless desperation I felt when others failed to take this on, betrayal even when I saw them seemingly dance on their own graves... Let's be real, who am I to say that I knew what was right? But I felt that there was a duty. That my life wasn't really about me, and that no one's lives were really about them. I still feel that way.

What troubles this has got me into. Its so hard to give up on those whose potential you have seen. 

Especially over the past year, as we near the launch of this thing, everything has intensified. Pieces have come into focus that seemed far off, forgotten. I've learned profound, life changing things from ruminations on people from 10 years ago. I've laser focussed my priorities. I have uncovered true, inescapable goals that emenate from my heart: things that I or others have pushed down since I was a kid and every moment since. My value system has been tested to its breaking point.

And so, all of this is to say that the risk here is probably incalculable at this point. Hinging everything on this one album? What are you, insane? I don't know. Maybe. Its not like I haven't always been this way. Its not like I broke along the way.

When I was kid, I seemed to have somewhat of a unique ability to see the potential in others and myself. It imbued me with a deep sense of duty to myself and others. My life wasn't really about me. I had a job to do, a dream to fulfill.

It absolutely broke me as a kid when 

I've always had a deep sense of duty. That my life wasn't really about me.