The Open Diary
A living love letter on the intimacies of music making,
and inner and outer fires.
"Totally moving. Extremely powerful."
- Grief Out Loud Podcast
Record recording, sleep-depriving roosters, lost radio stations, unexpected funerals, a once-in-a-lifetime album debut and an ever-present composting toilet. What more could you want?
I began writing THE OPEN DIARY while my debut album finds its way through a painful production roadblock. I find myself sitting in the sun-filled makeshift window seat at the back of a nine by nineteen foot single-room structure which is now home to my bedroom, practice space, kitchen, and bathroom, despite its lack of plumbing. It's a liberating downsize, but a big adjustment. I begin the diary through a stream of tears—my favorite classic-rock radio station is going off the air right then. Two weeks after that first diary entry, the sky turns red as one of the largest wildfires in California history begins its ominous raging crawl which will encircle my small town in a ring of fire. I re-mix my album from my car filled with my most valued possessions from three different evacuation locations as I wait to see if my new tiny-space and the few things I still own will be annihilated. I thankfully return to an intact home and bolster my courage to begin the media campaign for the launch of the album. Then, the day the first press release is scheduled to be sent out, my mother dies—after a long illness, but unexpectedly. I receive only two days notice. Four hours after she dies, the final album files for my first album and greatest labor of love, arrive in my inbox.
That's just the first three months...
I write about it all as a letter to you--as it is happening. You are with me always. I then post a juicy multi-entry installment and playlist at the end of each month. Each entry begins with a “Now Playing” song--forming a soundtrack as you go. You are invited inside of the constant, entertaining, maddening, illuminating mental dialogue of being an artist and the sounds that inspire me. Make yourself a warm beverage and sit down with me for a while.
WHY A DIARY? (aka it's not a blog)
When I was fourteen I tore my diary into pieces and flushed it down the toilet. It terrified me that my most vulnerable self was documented somewhere that people could find. Years later a friend gave me The Diaries of Anais Nin, another the Journals of May Sarton. Their vulnerability wasn't terrifying. It was a comfort and inspiration and I fell in love. I found a place where my stubborn honesty, instinctual vulnerability, and relentless analysis of myself and the world in which I make art could be an offering. A diary is such a special thing. It is a private expression shared in an intimate way. In a world of "curated performed identity" on social media, the diary reclaims a space of genuine intimacy.