Freelance journalist, writer, reviewer, photographer. I've taken a love of words — of expressing parts of myself through such fundamental, organic means, of manipulating the abstract to create something tangible — and a passion for music — in all its stages, forms, expressions, contexts — and
I have lived in Costa Rica, Puerto Rico, Boston, New York City, and Seattle. Call me restless.
Music and making cool web sites are my passions. Anything to do with the creative process excites and fulfills me.
I play keyboards and write songs for the Seattle band Massy Ferguson, doing roots-bas
hmmm, 1982... all i remember is tears for fears songs, pink and green flashes, building forts in the backyard, swimming with sharks, fluttering around like a butterfly until i hit smack into a brick wall. reality began to enter into the mind. what is this i thought? i'm not sure if i've ever fully gr
The essay did not always exist. Nor was the idea of recording one's personal introspections, whether in private diary or public form, always valued. It took centuries of evolution, from Seneca's philosophical epistles to the Christian confessional and beyond, before twentieth-century students would b