This bitch is mine.
Oops, someone caught me fading and it’s only nine. (at Seaview Golf Resort)
Red Panda (at Central Park Zoo)
I’m going to combine this with another question I recently received from an Anonymous user: "Your music never fails to make me happy and watching you perform live is like chrismukkah. When will you grace the stage in New York or Philadelphia again? (Soon please!)"
I’m flattered that my music means something to you both of you. I feel lucky. And I totally relate to the idea of waiting for that breakthrough. So much of my life I feel like I’m just repeating myself. Which is why I haven’t released music in a while. I’m trying not to repeat myself and part of that involves forging into new territories. Then again, sometimes more of the same is a good thing. You see how my mind fights against itself?
I’ve been getting the itch to play again. But I haven’t been able to follow through. You’ve encouraged me. I will try.
I have a few different poster designs somewhere over here. I can send you one if you don’t happen to live on Mars. Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
I’m peachy. Don’t worry about me.
Changing a flat on the parkway is so very fun.
I wish I had an answer. What do I do? I think drastic thoughts, feel too restless to sleep, too disillusioned to put on clothes, want to rip somebody’s fucking head off, my own included, and then time goes on and I slowly share with others and they remind me that so many have it much worse (if you widen your circle enough) and I get some distance on “hell” and “hell” seems more like a bump than a valley or a chasm or a hole that can’t be dug out of. I survive, is the short answer. Because I don’t know what else to do.
You’ve typed me this question, you reached out, so you’re already on your way.
That’s a lot of pressure. But I’m honored.
Thanks for recommending my music. I’m not sure I have the best perspective on my own material. I’ll leave it to all of you who listen to determine which albums are “pop” and which are not. Looking back, I think “Looking For A Feeling…” was a pure pop record. But that was five years ago now.
I never know what music I’ll make next, only that it will be different from the record that preceded it. I notice that my releases tend to zigzag in mood and I think that has to do with me constantly reacting to what I’ve just done and trying to push into some untested frontier. I hate repeating myself and yet I always do. It seems I’m always trying to figure out the same things: why am I here? what am I doing? how do I get more out of this? why are you and I not connecting? I want to be included and I want to be left alone. I want to be noticed and ignored. I, I, I, I. Help, help, help. Give me meaning, hold me, love me, stand for something, be pure, real, true, don’t fuck me over, don’t fuck all of us over, make me understand, make me feel alive. You get it.
More pop coming? Maybe, not sure, probably, we’ll see. I’ve been working on something for over a year now and I have no idea if it’s on the pop side or the experimental side. I’ve lost myself in the process. That’s part of the zigzagging: some releases are spontaneous and organic and pushed out without belaboring. Others are fiddled with over and over until they get close to some vision in my head. Little Daggers was a case of the latter. We shall see.
I can say this of the latest material: I’m trying to be new.
Dr. Dog • Shame Shame (Deluxe Edition)
On this rainy New York day, this song hit me.
Check out this commercial for United Airlines in which I respectfully mangle various languages.
I’ve never seen The Boondocks but I LOVE Louie. This season has been particularly good. I’m honored to be mentioned in the same breath. Thank you.