Creature Comforts

It’s amazing how things really come into perspective when your pretty simple existence is thrown into a frenzied uproar. The simplest and quietest moments are magnified in the millions when you don’t even have a place to rest your tired body in your own home after a day of work. We all fall prey to not feeling satisfied with what we have. We end up throwing little pity parties for ourselves because something didn’t work out like we’d hoped it would, or maybe we didn’t have enough money for that one cool “thing” we wanted. I’ve been in that spot. Hell, I’ll probably be in that spot in a week or two. It’s being human. We all occasionally feel like we’re owed a little more than we got. It’s not a bad thing. Goals push us to succeed. But just as long as we don’t forget what’s really important. You know, the good stuff. The stuff that makes this crazy world worth a damn. The love given to us and the love taken from us. A warm place to rest our head. A sturdy roof to keep us safe from the storm.

The simplest of things.

Having our home torn up has been painful. We’ve never lived extravagantly. My wife and I have lived in our 1,170 square foot ranch home for almost 21 years. We built it as two barely 20-somethings stepping out into the world of grown-ups. We didn’t know what the hell we were doing, but we knew that building a home was a good place to start. We didn’t shoot for the moon, we just built what two newly married kids with a decent credit score could build. That decision has been a good one for us, and to us. We’ve raised three amazing kiddos and three pooches in that home. It’s seen its fair share of happiness and sadness; good times and not-so good times. All in all, it’s been our shelter from both outside forces and internal drama. Three bedrooms upstairs for quiet moments of reflection. A living room where we, well, live. Watching movies, listening to records, conversations filled with laughter(and sometimes not so much laughter), coffee mornings with my dad, and family time with Apples To Apples on Christmas Eve. It’s a place where decisions have been made and kids have laughed loud and hard. A dining room where meals were shared and birthday cakes cut. Year after year our kids get older, yet they’re never too old to blow out candles on a cake. A kitchen where meals have been cooked, desserts created, and many pots of coffee brewed. The kitchen is where the heart of the home beats, in my opinion. Every great decision should be made over a plate and a cup. Minds think more clearly when the body is replenished and caffeine is consumed.

Our house will heal. It’ll soon be back to its top form, with new amenities and prettier furniture(that will hopefully last us a good long while.) New carpet to replace the old that saw more action than Chuck Norris in the 80s. Us Hubners are hearty. We are already healing, slowly. It helps we’re currently in a secret hilltop location planning our next move. Even the dog came along for this adventure. He’s one of us, you know. He’s a Hubner, whether he likes it or not.

I do miss those simple creature comforts, though. First and foremost my record player. The Audio Technica AT-PL120. It’s been a workhorse turntable. Bought it in 2008 and it’s been a good friend since. I miss sitting in my chair and spinning records. Watching the red glow from it as it weaves musical magic with the Ortofon 2M Red cartridge digging into the grooves of the vinyl. “Hey Owen, could you grab me another beer?”, I can hear myself saying. I also miss sleeping in my bed. It was torn apart after the bug disaster was discovered. Sleeping on old furniture in the basement has taken its toll(on both my spirit and my back.) I’m thankful we have a basement that’s partially finished to escape to, but still. Nothing like your own bed to slip into the abyss of sleep with. Being in a rental cabin I also miss things like sharp knives, quality pans, and spatulas that don’t bend with the slightest of pressure. Still, I’m glad this vacation was planned when it was. Worked out as perfect as it could have.

Plus, there’s good beer in fridge. That’s a small miracle right there. And a pool table in the game room. That’s been a blast.

We’re dealing with minor setbacks here, not the end of the world. It felt like the end of the world a few times, but when you’re in the thick of it things seem worse than they are. The house may be bare, but the home still stands.

The love keeps growing, rain or shine.

Nature Wants To Kill Me

Yeah, I’ve been out of commission the last week. I’m still alive and kicking, but it’s been one hell of a week.

For starters, last Saturday I discovered my son’s box spring and mattress were infested with bed bugs. Yeah, they’re real. They’re not just the subject of some fun bedtime tag line you tell your kids before bed. They’re real and they suck beyond belief. For the last six weeks we’ve been dealing with these strange red welts on arms and legs. For the first couple weeks we thought they were something the dog was bringing in from the outside and sharing with us. Poison Sumac or Oak, perhaps. So we started wiping his paws with baby wipes every time he came in. Then I bought a outside leash and hooked him up so he could only do his business in a designated area without roaming into the wasteland of blister-causing weeds. Still, even after all the precautions my wife and I were still dealing with itchy welts. Me, my upper left arm was so bad it began blistering. I thought maybe I was allergic to the crap outdoors. I was beginning to wonder if maybe nature wanted to kill me. My son began breaking out in little red spots, too. It was relegated to his arms and legs. It looked like eczema. We’d put ointment on it and it would go away. Pretty soon though it began to spread to the tops of his hands and his neck. My wife took him to the pediatrician, which diagnosed eczema and prescribed the same ointment we already had.

This had been going on since the first weekend in May. It would seem to improve, then it’d get worse. Last weekend was the big reveal. The mystery was solved. Id’ gone into my son’s room to hang some shelves when I noticed this bug on the floor. I thought it was a tick, as my wife had seen a couple over the last few weeks as well in our bedroom. My son said “That looks like the bug I saw behind my bed.” A feeling of dread came over me as I told him to step back as I carefully moved his mattress from the box spring. A simple inspection revealed his box spring was infested with egg sacs and bed bug feces. The need to get it out of my house was stronger than my need to throw up(and my need to take a flame thrower to the room.) We quickly removed the bed and took it outside. This then led to a mass exodus of years worth of toys, stuffed animals, comics, and clothes from his room. It was the Saturday from Hell last week. The day was spent emptying the room, spreading bed bug dust, and inspecting other rooms of the house. My daughter, whose room was next to my son’s tainted homebase, had one bug crawling on her bed frame(she herself had a few welts as well.) Her room seemed to be in the clear otherwise. Our room looked okay as well, but I spread the bed bug dust in there as well. Sunday was then spent pulling up all the carpet in my son’s bedroom. We didn’t know if the bugs had made their way under the carpet. Not knowing was not an option for me(or my wife.) My dad came over and we removed the carpet in less than an hour. No bugs in the carpet, thankfully. The carpet was 21 years old, so it’s not like it didn’t need to be replaced.

All seemed like it may be getting better.

Then I woke up Monday morning with new marks on me. I called my wife from work and told her we should have pest control come out to do a run-thru of the house. She said that would be a good idea. About an hour later she called me to tell me she took our bed out of the house and took the headboard apart to find bed bugs in it. On my side. I was being feasted upon by these horrible creatures that up until this point I thought were relegated to mattresses on the side of the road and $5 a night flophouses. I ended up leaving work early that morning to come home and figure out what the hell we were going to do. We came to the conclusion that pest control was needed immediately, as well as getting everything out of the house that we could get out. If it seemed tainted, it was gone. We rented a trash dumpster and filled it with furniture, bags of clothes, and years of memories that couldn’t be redeemed unfortunately. The pest control guy came and told us the amount of money it would cost for them to get our house bug-free(they heat the house up to 140 degrees, as well as using chemicals.)We agreed, and it’s going down on Tuesday. As the week went on we began removing all the carpet upstairs. Saturday morning my dad and I finished. The wife and I got our couch outside and it too is now in the dumpster.

We are in a shell of what used to be our home.

So how did this happen? Well a trip to Chicago back at the end of April is the culprit. We stayed at a $320 a night swanky Hyatt in downtown Chicago, a place you’d never guess would have bed bugs. I’ve stayed at some real dumps over the years, but never left with anything more than a sleepless night and sore back. This Hyatt was a beautiful spot to stay so my wife and daughters could enjoy Hamilton at an afternoon show The room seemed clean, and the beds were reasonably comfortable. Turns out that wasn’t the case. At all.

Lesson here is this: check your mattresses kids.

So here I am at nearly 1:30 am typing about this last pathetic week. I’m in the basement with the kids, while my wife is upstairs sleeping in the recliner with the dog. All the room are bare and carpetless(new carpet will be installed next Friday.) Our clothes are bagged in airtight containers after being washed and dried in an industrial washer/dryer at a laundromat in town. I told my wife they looked like giant piles of freeze-dried jerky. We leave later today for Brown County where I’ll sleep in a bed for the first time in nearly a week. There will be woods, nature, and a hell of a view. I’m hoping nature doesn’t want to kill me down there. I’m hoping we can call a truce for the sake of sanity. I know things could be a whole lot worse. There was no house fire or cancer diagnosis. No car wrecks or job loss. The kids are healthy, as are the wife and myself. The house will once again look normal, and the bugs will be a distant, bad memory. A memory I wish could be tossed out with the family couch, but I’ll settle for a bug-free sleep.

I haven’t spun a record in over a week. It doesn’t feel natural.

Pizza, Beer, ‘n Rock and Roll : How I Spent My Summer Vacation

July 8th(Part One)

Sitting poolside at the Vermilion, OH Holiday Inn Express and the chlorine is burning my nostrils. All the kids are happily dropping into the 5′ deep water like anvils in a tub of jell-o and they seem to be quite content to do this for the remainder of the day. I’m opting out of the pool. I’m not really much of a swimmer. In fact I don’t swim. As a kid with perpetual ear infections/problems(I had ear surgery a total of 6 times from the age of 5 to 11) I was never allowed to get water in my ears. I even had to put cotton balls in my them with Silly Putty over that to completely seal my ear canal when I’d take a bath. Yeah, I was a freak. So given my medical freakness I never learned to swim. Thankfully I never developed sea legs, or a taste for the butterfly stroke.

So, I keep to myself poolside, typing on my Chromebook like some dorky dad in Birkenstocks, un-chlorinated swim trunks, and a ratty t-shirt while the kids(and now my wife) get their Atlantian on. The reason for this overnight stay is a short-but-sweet getaway for the Hubner clan to the Buckeye state to visit the one and only rock and roll mecca, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame located in that dirty city located along the Cuyahoga River, Cleveland, Ohio. This is the first time we’ve taken the kids to the Hall of Fame, and the first time the wife and I have been here since 1997. When we visited as still newlyweds we got to see the John Lennon exhibit, which included guitars, his Bentley, hand-written lyrics, and his famous wire-rimmed glasses. There was also a Grateful Dead exhibit, complete with a psychedelic VW van, probably tie-dyed items and several bad acid trips bottled in mason jars from 30 years of Grateful Dead shows. There was also a 12-string Rickenbacker owned by Roger McGuinn that the guitar neck would light up.

It was a pretty cool experience to see 40+years of rock and roll history under one roof. I was still pretty young and naive to the politics and bullshit that went into the nomination process, the “pay no attention to the man behind the curtain” mystery of how someone gets the nod, and sadly how the artists are treated throughout the whole process. I guess what I’m saying is that this isn’t quite the magical experience it was for me nearly 20 years ago. Still, I’ll never not love rock and roll and the effect it’s had on me. So I want my children to experience the Hall of Fame just once in their lives. See the artifacts that resonated with millions and pushed a greasy Midwest kid like me to beg my mom and dad for a guitar and lessons. I want them to see Rob Halford’s leather hat and Nikki Six’ studded dog collar. Maybe some bits from the British Invasion, which informed so many bands in the 70s and beyond. If we could even just lay our eyes upon Jeff Lynne’s magical beard from 1978, maybe my son’s blindness would be cured(my son’s not blind really, but you’d think he was by how filthy his bedroom gets.) I guess I’m just hoping that hitting up the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame will spark something in my younglings. Maybe they’ll want to pick up one of my guitars when we get home. Or maybe sit at the keyboard and play the opening chords to “Smoke On The Water”. Maybe one of them will have the urge to slam out a sloppy Neil Peart-esque drum fill on my lousy Ludwig 5-pc Rocker set. Hell, maybe that Beyonce exhibit will bring out the inner Diva in one of my girls. Who knows?

All I know is sitting poolside, dreaming of the Hubner Family Rock Experience beats the hell out of walking around Cedar Point in 85 degree heat with 110% humidity.


Summertime’s Last Hurrah

In an effort to make sure our children would have a great memory of this summer break(besides mom and dad getting drunk with grandma and grandpa in a hillbilly mansion in the woods), my wife had me buy some tickets to Cedar Point Amusement Park in Sandusky, Ohio at the beginning of the summer. Well, we left yesterday morning at 7am and arrived back home at 2am earlier this morning. I do believe it was the right call, as everyone had an absolute blast. My equilibrium is still a bit off, but war wounds worth having I think.

I’ll admit right off the bat that I was not a fan of this plan. I used to love rollercoasters. LOVED them. But with the passage of time and the thinning of mucous membrane in my inner ear my abilities to take sudden head movements has waned significantly. Even a swing on a swing set can cause the world to move around me in ways it shouldn’t. Still, I wasn’t going to let my prissy issues get in the way of family fun. I did what any good father and husband would do: I sucked it up. I got up at 5:30am on Sunday and made up sandwiches for the lunch break we’d have, as well as some cinnamon rolls and orange danish so everyone could get off to a unnaturally sugary start. Besides our three kids, my oldest brought one of her good friends along, too. That way, everyone had someone to ride with. I wasn’t sure how much I’d be riding. Turns out, I rode a lot.

If you’re not familiar with Cedar Point, I’ll tell you a few things then. It’s an amusement park in Sandusky, Ohio that sits right on Lake Erie. Apparently you can see Canada from some of the highest rollercoaster peaks. I can neither confirm or deny this claim. The park as been there since the beginning of the 20th century, starting out as a resort-like area for folks to come and relax and listen to live music(apparently Louis Armstrong used to frequent the bandstand.) As the years went on they added rides. In 1964 they built the Blue Streak. One of the biggest rollercoasters at the time, an all wood behemoth it’s the first coaster that used to greet you when you entered. Since then, the Blue Streak merely sits in the shadows of some of the biggest coasters in the world. Now I’m not going to bore you with specifics here(as most of those details were rattled out of my skull yesterday), so I’ll leave a few names here and you can let Google do the work: The Gemini, The Corkscrew, Iron Dragon, Magnum XL-200, Skyhawk, Millenium Force, The Raptor, Maverick, The Gatekeeper, and the Rougaroo. Give a few of those some proper internet searches and feast your eyes on some intense thrills, folks.

For a kid that grew up in the Midwest, Cedar Point was a summer destination nearly every summer. It was a four hour drive from where I grew up, so we always hopped in the family sedan and made the journey. I didn’t start enjoying rollercoasters till I was a teenager. I couldn’t get past the fear of those massive heights and blood-curdling screams. But once I did when I was 14 years old, there was no going back. I loved the speed, the dips, the loops, the adrenaline, and the fear. For the course of a minute and thirty seconds you were removed from your regular, earthly plain and belief was suspended. You become this massive, screaming oneness with all the other passengers. Everyone is in this together, man. If you’re going down, everyone is going down. You enter the car strangers, and you leave them strangers still. But, during the ride you’re all in it together. Terrified and exhilarated. That’s what pulled me in.

Nearly every year we’d go and have a blast. When my wife and I started dating in high school we even made the trek together. It was something fun to do. To get away from it all. I guess that’s what the amusement park is there for, right? The boardwalks on the east and west coasts. Coney Island, King’s Island, Six Flags, Disney,…they’re all there to beat everyday life right out of you with every dip and 80 mile an hour drop. Sure, the $4 bottle of water and $10.50 ice cream sundae put a damper on the fun(and wallet), but that’s why you pack food. That’s why you save a little extra green and get there prepared.

Also, bring lots of sunscreen.

So the kids did indeed have a blast. The only one I was kind of worried about was my son. He used to get carsick a lot. Like, a lot. 30 minutes into a 3 1/2 hour drive home from a cabin stay four years ago he vomited up double chocolate donuts in the back of the family van. He’s done this on hour long drives home as well(just not donuts….refried beans I think it was.) I feel my trepidation was justified in taking him to Cedar Point. I mean, we did take the kids five years ago, but they were all much younger(five years younger to be exact.) The only rides he rode were the kiddie rides. Snoopy’s Balloon Chase, and the Alligator Fun Hop…crap like that. He had never known the likes of the Magnum XL-200 or the Gemini. Well, we broke him in with the classic Blue Streak and won him over with the slick Iron Dragon. From there he was hooked. I think we rode the Gemini 8 times yesterday. It’s a classic wood rollercoaster. Smooth, fast, and fun as hell. He’s now a rollercoaster fiend, and about four years before his old man was.

So is my head kind of wonky today? Yeah, it is. And unfortunately, I think with each passing year those rides will get harder and harder on my noggin. But, I think I’ve got a few good years of enjoying them. At least until the kids are all grown up and doing their own vacations. I believe we’re trading in the cabins in the woods for lake breezes and screaming thrill ride patrons as our family fun event for the summer.

If you want to make memories your kids will take with them the whole year long and beyond, just put ’em on a rollercoaster and scare the ever loving shit out of ’em.


Vacation Nation : The Aftermath

So who told me that it would be a good idea to spend four days in some hillbilly mansion in the woods with my parents? Who was it? Cause I’m going to tell that person to go to Hell. In a hand basket even.

So yeah, my four days away from it all wasn’t nearly as relaxing as I’d hoped it would be. Sure, it was great getting away. We got to walk around and look at expensive, hand made, hand woven, and hand carved items. We ate some fabulous homemade ice cream, grilled some burgers, hot dogs, chicken, and even had a taco fiesta that was muy bueno. I drank way too many local brews one night and fortified my reputation as a hell of a pool player. There was also that little thing of visiting Landlocked Music, Corner Book Store, and Phoenix Comics in the always excellent Bloomington, Indiana. We had a nice dinner at Big Woods Pizza in downtown Nashville, and afterwards I got to see a couple $75 copies of first edition Kurt Vonnegut books at some dinky bookstore off the beaten path.

So what’s the problem?

The problem was that even at 41 years old I still felt like I was 12 years old with my mom and dad. I certainly don’t think that’s how my mom and dad see me. It just felt like for most of the time my mom was constantly looking for something to clean or pick up, or worry about some thing or the other thing. My dad, on the other hand, seemed pretty good to just go with the flow. He would’ve been happy lying in his king-size bed watching the same TV shows he would watch from his giant leather chair in his own living room. My mom gave the impression that she was enjoying herself, but since I’m her son and we are a lot alike I could see the furrowed brow. I could see the wheels turning inside of her head. As the kids laughed and played in the oversized hot tub on the deck she was thinking “They better not run the jets in that thing or else it’s gonna break. Then we’ll be responsible for that.” Or within 5 minutes of arriving, as we were putting our groceries away she was certain she found mouse feces in the pantry. “Better not use that”, she said as I went to put some cans away. “Well you’d think they’d have a key to open the bedroom doors in case something like this happens”, she shared as my son informed me he locked himself out of him and his sister’s bedroom. A call to the office fixed the situation, but still. OF COURSE I’M THINKING THE SAME DAMN THING, BUT YOU DON’T NEED TO STATE THE OBVIOUS, MA!!

Let me be very clear here: I love my parents with all my heart. They are the kindest, most giving people I know. They would do anything for someone they love, and they have helped me out so much over the years. No questions asked. My wife and I love getting together with my mom and dad, having dinner, having some drinks, and playing euchre. We’ve spent New Year’s Eve with my mom and dad for the last several years and we have a blast. I just think, for the mere fact that they are a lot like my wife and I in that they are very much creatures of habit, you throw them out of their comfort zone you can just watch the anxiety build. Four days away from the comfort of home with five other people that you normally love being around is enough to cause anyone to get a little crazy. I’m sure they were as thrown off as my wife and I were.

We did have fun together, don’t get me wrong. And the kids loved having grandma and grandpa along to hang out with. We even had cake and ice cream for my mom’s 66th birthday on July 2nd. It was nice. And it was great waking up every morning(except for Wednesday morning…that morning was painful…damn IPAs) and enjoying a cup of coffee with my dad. We’ve made Saturday mornings a “share a cuppa/father and son” kind of tradition now, so that felt like home to me. And my mom was pretty amazed at the lovely Eagle’s Nest Lodge we stayed at. Plus, my mom and dad got to see me in my natural habitat: a record store. I have to admit it was kind of weird leafing through stacks of vinyl as my mom and dad perused and talked amongst themselves. If ever there was a time I felt like a gawky teen, it was at that moment. Still, they were champs for waiting around.

So now that I got all that off my chest, I have to say I love spending time with my mom and dad. Maybe just not four straight days with them(I’m sure the feelings are mutual.) At least when it’s just me, the wife and kids away there’s no expectations to keeping anyone entertained or amused. When it’s just the five of us we can just let it all hang out and be frumpy and natural. We do what we do and that’s that. Like it or lump it.

Next year, I think we’re doing something different. I’ve had my fill of forests and Daniel Boone decor. I’m thinking a bungalow, sand in the front yard, and a view of the ocean. Somewhere I can get a nice, glowing burn all over my pasty body.

Yeah, that’s ticket.

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Personal Solstice

Summer break has arrived. The kids are staying up and sleeping in, while mom and dad are still tired at 9pm and are ready for bed. Still, we try to keep up. We want the fun factor to be as high as possible. There’s only a handful of these summer breaks left before we’re reminiscing about them with a group of adults that look and sound a lot like us, and there’s much older looking folks staring back at us from the mirror. I don’t want to look back on these days and wish I would’ve been a better parent. Had more memorable moments with my kids. Regrets aren’t things I like to carry around. I may have a few, but none pertaining to how I’ve been as a parent.

With all that in mind, next week we are leaving for Southern Indiana and staying in a cabin in the woods located in Brown County. The town of Nashville, Indiana is surrounded by hills and deep woods. Within those woods are many, many rental homes for folks like my wife and I to take their kids to and get away for a few days. This will be the fifth time my wife and I have gone down to the southern part of the state for a getaway, while this will be the kids fourth time. The first trek for the wife and I was back in October of 2010 with my best friend and his wife. We had a great time those two days. Walking the shops, horseback riding, and treks in the woods interspersed with much beer drinking. We knew we wanted to bring the kids down. A year later we rented a cabin and took the kids along with my parents to celebrate Thanksgiving down there for three days. It was the first Thanksgiving without my grandma Ruthie, who’d succumbed to lung cancer in February of 2011. While it was nice to be away, the cabin -while big and roomy- just had a weird mojo about it. The kids loved it, but the adults were a little “meh” about it(it didn’t help that 30 minutes into our 3 1/2 hour drive home my son threw up in the back of the van.) That trip was a rough one. So in June of 2012 the wife and kids and I headed back down and stayed in the cabin we rented with my best pal and his wife. In all honesty, it was one of the best vacations I’ve ever been on. Everything about the stay was perfect. We headed to Bloomington one day and I hit the great Landlocked Music. Indianapolis provided the great Indianapolis Zoo and Luna Music. We also did a lot of walking around in downtown Nashville. But really, the best part about the trip was just being together. Just hanging out and laughing. Walking the trail and grilling out. Having a beer in the hot tub at 9 pm and sleeping in till whenever the hell I felt like it. Last summer we rented a bigger house and had a similar stay. Other than the butt-clinching hill we had to ascend and descend every time we came and went from the cabin, it was a wonderful vacation.

So I’m looking to next week with much anticipation. Not only are we heading down to my favorite vacation spot, but this time my parents are coming along. Oh, and the house is actually a lodge and it’s 6,000 square feet. Yeah, it’s a freaking mansion in the woods. The place looks immaculate. A wing for everyone. Two hot tubs, game room, a giant deck along the outside of the house, and I think there’s even a pond on the land. It’s on several acres, so we can roam as much as we want(as the B-52s once sang, “Roam if you want to”.) I love the fact that my parents are coming with us as well. I never took a vacation with my grandparents as a kid, so this will be a great memory our brood. Being able to hang out and laugh with my mom and dad away from it all will be nice. Plus, since the place is so big we can all retire to our own section when we get tired of each other.


I’m at a point in my life where I’m really trying not to take anything for granted. My oldest is 15, has a job, and is going to band everyday. She doesn’t have the lounging time she has had in previous summer breaks. I’m happy for her, but part of me does miss the idea that she can just hang out and enjoy being lazy for a month and a half before she goes back to high school as a sophomore. I’m totally good with where she’s at, being busy and all. It just makes next week all that much more important and poignant to me. My two youngest are getting more mature everyday(with the occasional fart joke aside.) They’re turning into well-mannered, polite, and loving young people. They’re also very adept at flipping records for me and opening a bottle of stout. My wife is slowly becoming more comfortable in her new job. She’s appreciated by the folks that she works for and is relied upon to look over a large area. 2014 was a rough year to start a new job, but she’s done the best anyone could do. Things are starting to pay off for her.

As for me, well I feel like I’m at a high point. Writing about music and the folks that make the music is something I quite love. I think it’s something I’ve always needed to do and starting this page back in December of 2011 was the best thing I could’ve ever done for myself. I’m as passionate about music as I’ve ever been(maybe even more.) I love sharing about music that gets to me. Music that gets at me. Music that makes me feel something or takes me back to somewhere deep in my youth. I want people to know about this stuff. Plus, I can jump on here and spout about nothing and everything all within one single post. Kind of like this one.

I’m also working on my own music, which I’ll share here soon. I’m taking my time with these songs. I’m not rushing like I used to. I’m letting them ferment a bit longer in the creative brine this time around. The songs that I’ve finished thus far seem all the better for my patience.

This feels like a personal solstice of sorts. I hope it doesn’t end anytime soon.

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