I focus strongly on my lyrics, and have loved poetry as long as I can remember. As a kid I remember the pains and joyous aches of beauty: walks with my dad in Southern Californian river beds tangled in the cool and heat, nights in San Francisco with my family cramped in apartments while traffic hummed us to sleep, and the hills which I explored behind my house bare foot, dirty, and wide eyed. As a
child I struggled with sitting still, but moments in life, people and nature, were something that stopped me in awe, and beauty was the pain I felt because I wanted to experience it more than I could. I can't say I remember a specific memory when I knew beauty was something which was to move me for the rest of my life. However, when my family traveled back east for a vacation, and the trees were ablaze in their fall glory, I realized how much I wanted to participate in the beauty. Driving though the winding roads, weaving themselves among the brick country homes rising out of the fiery leaves which sat like a bed of coals on the front yards, and while my parents discussed possible houses for purchase, I knew I would try my best to communicate, in writing, how the leaves left me broken with a promise of some sort of fulfillment. Maybe all the first snow falls, late night conversations boiled in whiskey, mountains slumbering in magnitude, my mother's laughter, were all things I wanted to participate in more than I could, and this was the only way I knew how. Ever since I was young he painted and sculpted tinkering away in his studio. I grew up under the study of a man who saw the world through beauty, and, like passing a torch, I was handed the rose colored glasses viewing the world with ache and wonder, but my medium was lyrics and music.
