Mourning isn’t for the dead. It’s for the living. Whether you believe in an afterlife or that death is a full-stop, the loved ones we lost are free of worry and pain. Our mourning is the acceptance of our own worry, our own pain. But at some point, we must shed the weight of sorrow and transition back to joy.

The dog behind the blog.

There is no medium that perfectly encapsulates a moment of your existence. Expression is plagued with layers that subtly (or not so subtly) alter the representation of what you see and feel.

Viral moments are a helluva drug. And like any drug, we’ll make bad choices to get another hit of that dopamine.

Sometimes I wonder about creations that we will never see. The creations that either eroded over time or the ones hidden in basements and attics. There are likely more Vivian Maiers in the world than Gordon Parks.

I like long songs. I grew up in a time when an artist could make a song as long as one side of an LP. I especially like long songs with distinct movements. Think “Freebird“ by Lynyrd Skynyrd or “Green Eyes” by Erykah Badu. They feel like expressions of complete thought. I like to listen to these songs when I”m drifting off and thinking of ideas for projects.

For years I thought that being creative required poor mental health. I embraced my depression because I produced good work. But, I’m learning how that is a false equivalency. If I’m talented, it’s not because I’m in pain. It’s because I have a bit of natural talent that a massive amount of repetition has nurtured.