this is me

It all started one frosty Christmas morning around 2AM when I crept out of my bedroom to discover that Santa, aka dad, had left me a brand new acoustic guitar. However, not every moment can be as warm and fuzzy as Christmas morning, so let’s fast forward to now.

I am supposed to write a bio here. But let's be honest, that feels very self indulgent and I’m terrible at it. So here’s my adaptation:

Born out of the brackish waters of the Chesapeake Bay, I am a hapless nostalgist, reaching for the past to carry me away. I’m filled with intense emotion, grit, and soul, wistful of what’s not, and scared to grow old. What is this new world we live in, full of spite, ridicule, and sin? I have this rage about it somewhere deep within. I find comfort in the writing of these sins.

I venture out at night, wrapping myself in the shadowy moonlit blanket. Comforted by the darkness, it pulls me in like a magnet. I am at home under a deep-rooted tree, conjuring feelings amidst a cemetery. With the spirits, I share a bottle of red wine and script their memories out as a story in my mind. I am content to speak with ghosts while I record and invoke their rhythm and rhymes.

I fight for what I believe in with a bluntness, leaving no doubt to my intentions. Yet I am haunted by my passions, the history of my ancestors, the future of us, and romantic infections. Fear aside, I refuse to hide. We can change this new world as the moon does the tides. So onward I will march into the darkness while others tread gently into the light. For this is where I belong and I welcome you to the ride… all aboard the train to Windy Hill.

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