The TNW “State of Creativity” Address

Don’t worry, I’m alive! When I started this blog–*checks Archives* …fifteen years ago, good Lord–I did so with the intent of it being a one-stop shop for updates on and buzz-building about my various creative endeavors (poetry, short stories, movie-making, etc.). Some years, it has been that, and with aplomb; others, as a day job and phone addiction squeeze my free time ever tighter, it’s just been a receptacle for annual too-long-for-social-media Top 10 Lists. Those are still on their way, but in the meantime, I thought it wise to also provide a quick list of the right-brained accomplishments I’m most proud of in 2025!

Yes indeed! You can find more info if you know where to look, but at least online, I’ve kept tight-lipped so as to avoid copycats and not call my shot with undue conceit. All I’ll say for now (in addition to the cryptic clip above) is that, after conceiving of the world, characters, and plot in a flurry of inspiration over autumn of 2024, I’m now about 30% through a first draft. It’s inspired by a lot of my favorite horror/fantasy media, but also action movies, videogames, and synthwave music. My goal is a tale that’s unique and uplifting, not just another snarky pulp adventure about superheroic chosen ones making right with might. And I want to do it proper–sharing my work online and in the occasional niche journals has been fun, but to really make a name for myself, I’ll need the discipline to finish a full-scale book, the humility to accept reams of rejection letters and red-scathed pages back from an editor, and the foresight that what goes on the cover and into readers’ minds won’t be exactly what I imagined. Every time I walk into a library or Barnes & Noble, I think, all of these people got on a shelf–why can’t I? Come 2026, I plan to prove that’s a rhetorical question.

“Shop local” is the go-to mantra for building community, so even as I work on larger personal projects, I’ve also gladly made time to hit the streets and “create local.” Creative Colloquy and Voices of Tacoma: A Gathering of Poets are two splendid Grit City collectives which invite writers and other artists of all stripes to print, perform, or just swap drafts in good company. At the latter’s invitation, I’ve performed recent pieces like “Tacomaturity” and “Raining for a Saved Day,” but also dipped my toe into the unapologetically political with “Repetism,” a contribution to the Voices of Protest zine released as part of the “Fall of Freedom.” Now more than ever, I can’t tolerate what I see when I flip through the headlines. Good art can bring people together and, while they’re there, remind them of the positive change they’re capable of. It’s been my honor and privilege to occupy such a spotlight, the medium I value most in hand.

My brother Kyle and I also started a podcast this year–now available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and YouTube! In each episode, we–the bros in question–reflect on a certain slice of retro pop culture, childhood tradition, or other such topic in a series of probing yet lighthearted conversations. It’s about nostalgia, but not uncritically; “remember when” is just the jumping-off point, and if we think things are better now in some respects than back in 90s/Y2K days, we’ll gladly say so and why. After block-shooting some episodes in 2024, we released those and more about biweekly starting in May, since which we’ve taken a break. What’s next? Well, in addition to a general Season Two, we’re looking to expand the show’s scope and introduce side projects under our new media production business, “White Noise LLC.” In the meantime, we’ve got a Bygone Bros Instagram, there’s a lot of untapped potential for us aging Millennials on TikTok or a similar platform, and we’ve got a solid list of additional topics we’re looking forward to discussing!

Not sure why WordPress insists on this embed being so huge, but Snowfall is worth it!

For a while, my video production bread and butter was Twitch highlights and movie reviews. This year, in the interest of focusing on the aforementioned projects, I scaled that back; my “Spooky Streams” are impulsive and sporadic (but that means they pop up when you least expect it!), while my filmed reviews were limited to dunking on a truly heinous Jason Statham flick. I still write about most everything I watch on Letterboxd, at least–769 diary entries and counting, baby! But I didn’t sleep on my channel–I put out another horror story narration, fourteen episodes of Bygone Bros, a few amusing home videos otherwise lost to time, and whatever comedy shorts happened to pop in my head and wouldn’t leave until I hit “export” in Premiere. That, and I always like to toss up the occasional cat video (see above) or moment of PNW zen–out of true enthusiasm, but also in recognition of how Shorts usually net at least a stray follower or two. Praise be to the Algorithm, and may I finish my first proper video essay soon enough!

Though it debuted well before 2025, I’d be remiss not to rep once more for the creative project of which I’m most proud: ANAGOGIA, an interactive fiction game about navigating a realm of liminal spaces occupied by unnerving creatures and phenomena. I still leave QR code cards promoting it in any dive bar bathroom or communal corkboard I come across… you never know when you might encounter one!

Oh, and I’m trying to make chocolate for a prospective side biz. Always liked the idea of marketing candy as a kid (they’re fun to eat, surely they’re fun to sell!), but there’s definitely a few more steps involved than just melting down someone else’s bar and pouring it into silicone. Still, Kyle and I have what we feel are some excellent ideas to stand out from the crowd, branding- and flavor-wise. Stay tuned!

Honorable mention: “This Party Sucks” emo nite – Airport Tavern.

Lastly… well, reckon I can’t call karaoke a substantive creative output, but let it be known that I have good fun with it among friends and grab a mic whenever the opportunity arises. Separate but very much related is my love of live music–there’s a beautiful communion to hearing tunes that’ve meant so much to you personally blasted at 11 (as I stand in the back with earplugs, but still), alongside a crowd that proves you were never truly alone. As a P.S. of posterity, here’s highlights from all of the concerts I saw this year:

a. This Wild Life – The Vera Project
b. Coven Dove – The Juice Box
c. Mayday Parade (with Microwave, Grayscale, Like Roses) – Showbox SoDo
d. Pierce the Veil (with Sleeping with Sirens, Beach Weather) – Cascades Amphitheater
e. Simple Plan (with Bowling for Soup, 3OH!3) – WAMU Theater
f. The All-American Rejects – Emerald Queen Casino
g. Coheed & Cambria (with Taking Back Sunday, Foxing) – Chateau Ste. Michelle Winery
h. Seattle Symphony – Benaroya Hall
i. VOILÀ (with Monotronic, NOT A TOY) – Chop Suey
j. Jack’s Mannequin (with illuminati hotties) – Showbox SoDo
k. Emo Night Karaoke (with my buddy Grant et al.!) – Airport Tavern

My Top Music of 2023

You’ve heard from the best, now hear from… well, me! I’m no Fantano or Pitchfork, but I do have Airpods in at most hours–along with a well-used car stereo–so I heard plenty of music in 2023 for which praise is due. To complement my Top Games of 2023 list from the other day, then (a brief movie one is on my Letterboxd – expanded video adaptations of both pending!), here’s some quick ‘n dirty takes on my favorite albums and singles which hit my ears this year:

TOP ALBUMS OF 2023

Low on the list out of principle ’cause I didn’t get around to listening until I was driving home from a NYE party, but still: Solid vocal and instrumental synthwave of the eerie Stranger Things-adjacent variety, all wrapped in an endearing package honoring the same retro aesthetic.

Half a century and change after their biggest hits, there’s admittedly more hack than diamonds in this LP, but having the boys back in town with new material felt like a cause to rock all the same. And we got a Lady Gaga feature, no less!

In a genre full of nostalgia-mongering and fantastical imagery, Magic Sword has cornered the market on a specific yet indelible mood: Music to quest to. With eerie synth tones and song titles like “Nowhere Else to Run,” “A Dark Task,” and “There is Still Good in You,” how can you not want to don a cloak of your own and journey towards what lies on the horizon?

Back in my day, if you wanted Halloween-themed emo music, you had Blink-182’s “I Miss You” and maybe a Panic! at the Disco track or two. Leave it to young guns Magnolia Park, though, to dole it out on the regular! Amid tracks which explicitly name-check the holiday and other suitably spooky subjects, raucous yet wistful opener “The End: An Emo Night Rhapsody” more than earns its subcultural pretension, 408 collab “Manic” is an infectious ode to a dysfunctional relationship, and “Life in the USA” makes for a darkly funny, unapologetically political dig at late-stage capitalism.

If Vic and the gang put out a new record, you know it’s gonna be on this list somewhere. Shouty lead single “Pass the Nirvana” had me wary when it dropped in 2022, but I came around to its sound on the release proper, and numerous other tracks keep PTV’s quality-over-quantity discography going strong: The thunderous yet dreamy promises of “Even When I’m Not with You,” the cacophonous pleading of “Emergency Contact,” and the aching reflections on Chloe Moriondo duet “12 Fractures” were particular highlights.

I’m always a little wary when a band well into their career releases a self-titled album. Are we in for a bold, image-defining musical experience, or just a going-through-the-motions contractual obligation? With The Maine, however, it’s neither, as their 2023 eponymous LP may well be my favorite yet. From the indignant yet bouncy chorus on “Blame” to the downright danceable “Leave in Five,” The Maine remain an indelibly entertaining missing link between radio-friendly pop rock and heart-on-the-sleeve, Hopeless Records catharsis. Generous of them, too, to write the theme song for every college party I ever peaced out on with “How to Exit a Room.”

It’s a crowded scene out there for 80s-throwback acts, especially in my library, but WOLFCLUB stands apart from the pack (no pun intended) by having… well, just really darn good hooks. As ever, young love, sleek cars, and dark nights are the imagery du jour, but with tracks like soaring, insistent opener “Crystalise” and breathless call-and-response “Shoreline” (complete with a sax solo!), they simply outrun the competition.

I don’t consider myself a sonic tastemaker at the best of times, but I was still surprised to see Waterparks’ latest LP pop up on multiple critics’ worst-of lists for 2023, because… this thing slaps? I get it–rambunctious production, goofball lyrics, and random stylistic transitions aren’t for everyone, but the loopy, corny, often horny energy of tracks like “Funeral Grey,” “Brainwashed,” and “Self-Sabotage” is just too infectious for me to pooh-pooh.

We didn’t get a new Mayday Parade record in 2023, but we did get the next best thing: Another acoustic outing from frontman Derek Sanders! Despite its five-track run, this box is heavy indeed — “Home” is a melancholy reflection on the road to peace, “Howell Canyon” evokes The Postal Service with its thrumming percussion and laments that “we exist to only fall apart,” and the sparse instrumentation of “True Story of a Boy Whose Exploits Panicked a Nation” encloses a heartbreaking look back at a life literally or figuratively reaching its end… while also continuing Sanders’ cute tradition of naming songs after Calvin & Hobbes quotes. Cap it off with a reunion with classic Mayday compatriot Jason Lancaster on “For Dear Life,” and you’ve got an EP which all transported me back to 2013–not a place I ought to linger, in truth, but a comfort in certain troubled moments all the same.

Four words: emo songs as anime themes. As prolific as the overlap is between weebs and scene kids, it’s amazing no one capitalized upon this peanut butter-and-chocolate combo before, but bless SSK for giving it a go, turning pop-punk hits by Yellowcard, My Chemical Romance, and more into even peppier J-pop bangers, complete with translated lyrics. Enjoy the back half, too, where each track is convincingly condensed into what could well be the opener to your new favorite slice-of-life series! Now for someone to actually produce the shows that’d go with these…

TOP SINGLES OF 2023

Nothing too complicated here–just another rad, funky throwback perfect for neon-lit night drives, from the dudes who arguably do it best.

As alluded to above, I won’t pretend Hackney Diamonds is a newsworthy return to form for the rock titans, but to just have (1) a disco remix (2) of a Rolling Stones song in the year 2023 felt like a rift in time had opened in the best way.

To have weathered my twenties to the sound of Everything in Transit by Jack’s Mannequin, only to reflect along with frontman McMahon on the things only growing older can teach you… it’s nice. Not uplifting, but nice.

For all their overproduced earlier work and off-stage scandals, I stand by my conviction that All Time Low can always be counted on to fire off a rowdy earworm about being an unambitious screw-up. Their 2023 record may have been too familiar to make my Top 10 in aggregate, but this all-too-relatable lead single of the same name stands tall (or, maybe, slumps against wall) just the same.

I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, but it’s loud, it’s vaguely sci-fi, and I have a thing for orange hair, so color me pleased.

We did get some new Mayday Parade singles this year, at least! And the first was the best, or at least the most promisingly unique: “More Like a Crash,” in which classic Mayday heartbreak (“guess it’s been a while since I had nothing to do”) crests before the trademark guitar breakdown with a holler of the title line, feeling right out of their rawer Black Lines period. Eager to see where the overall sonic direction of their next project goes!

Among the many bands experiencing a renaissance thanks to emo-era nostalgia, none were perhaps more surprising–or welcome–than Yellowcard reneging on their 2016 final bow with a new EP. Of particular note was this track, in which the band openly carries forward their original youthful energy without sounding desperate or pandering. Another pop punk group that tried to make a comeback in 2023 should blink their own eyes and take note…

Some songs capture a specific emotion so well that it’s almost like a part of you has been carved out and pressed on vinyl. Not always a pleasant emotion, mind you, but all the same, “LosT”–with its incessant guitars, glitched-out electronic segments, and furious lyrics–is the sound of that one adjective, that one feeling, running like a bull in a china shop through one’s head in moments of self-doubt. I (thankfully) can’t relate to controversial lead singer Oli Sykes watching anime while doing ketamine, but to wanting to scream “what the hell is fucking wrong with me?” after a bad day? Consider me found.

Hey, remember that week or two in 2023 when some random government guy claimed he saw UFOs, and everyone decided that was irrefutable proof aliens exist? Neck Deep does, or at least they struck while the iron (or some other metallic substance not of this planet) was hot and dropped this silly little homage to The X-Files, E.T., and the increasingly sensible anxiety of wanting to leave Earth while there’s still time. I didn’t know these dudes had a nerdy novelty song in them, but it just makes their library of A-tier pop punk even better!

In the late Aughts, Ke$ha was widely derided as the nadir of music: trashy, airheaded, unconscionably perverse. With time, however, came change for the artist, both for good–a reappraisal of silly, sexy pop stars–and for ill: namely, a #MeToo-adjacent sexual abuse case and subsequent industry fallout. I don’t have the space, much less the education, to dissect how all of this influenced Kesha (long since bereft of the dollar sign) during the production of her 2023 record Gag Order; I just know that, for all of the bombastic tracks I showered with accolades earlier, “Eat the Acid” is the most interesting song I heard this year: a calm, haunting, hypnotic mantra about faith, isolation, and the dilemma of seeking self-actualization from without as opposed to within.

2016: A Year in Stuff

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Forget 2017, already–let’s party like it’s 1986!

It has been, by all accounts, a year of unmitigated death and depravity. If it weren’t for finally getting out of college and having super-awesome friends and family who’ve been with me for some amazing moments, 2016 would’ve been a total loss. Still, as an unrepentant pop culture geek, I feel a duty to briefly roll up my sleeves and dig deep for a silver lining in the media ephemera of the last 365 days. Onto the TOP STUFF LIST!
 –
–Best TV–
(1) Stranger Things: A fantastic homage to the idealized 80s in all its rad glory, this at once nailbiting and heartwarming supernatural tale can’t hit season two soon enough.
(2) Black Mirror (Season 3): Chillingly plausible story hooks and a diverse cast of characters made the return of this peerless techno-satire essential viewing.
(3) Westworld: Obtuse yet epic, it managed the impossible task of having me enjoy cowboy shootouts one second and ponder the depths of consciousness and free will the next.
(4) Channel Zero: Its reimagining of one of the most famous creepypastas in “Candle Cove” struggled with pacing and direction at times, but was still a cracking good start to anthology horror for a new generation.
(5) The X-Files: An “E” for effort, admittedly (it was never going to be *fantastic* after over a decade), but Mulder & Scully’s chemistry still shines, the paranoia still pops, and the middle ep is a series classic.
–Best Movies–
(1) 10 Cloverfield Lane: Mixing a claustrophobic setting with big-name actors, this slow-burn scifi flick provided more thrills on $15 million than most studios do with five times that budget.
(2) Hardcore Henry: The dictionary definition of an R-rating, this Russian rampage through knifings, shootouts, decapitations, and motorcycle chases is first-person adrenaline in a Blu-Ray.
(3) Arrival: Adapted from a story by the underrated Ted Chiang, Dennis Villeneuve’s taut, moody stylings lent a mindbending yet emotional air to an alien invasion.
(4) Captain America – Civil War: It’s more like Avengers 2.5, but who cares? Seeing all these insane characters duke it out on-screen after almost a decade of buildup is as close to a rollercoaster as theater gets.
(5) The VVitch – A New-England Folktale: Despite a Sundance screening in ’15, this humble horror movie really made waves with a wider release this February–and for good reason. With a painstaking attention to period dress and dialogue, it depicts the ultimate nightmare of 17th-century Puritans with spectacular subtlety and unrelenting dread.
–Best Games–
(1) Uncharted 4 – A Thief’s End: The adventure game, perfected. While it may lack the instantly iconic setpieces of its predecessors, this end to Nathan Drake’s saga packs a gripping plot, heart-pounding action sequences, and some of the best graphics I’ve ever seen into one disc.
(2) DOOM: Third time’s the charm with the latest reboot of the granddaddy of gory FPSes. The place: a demon-infested Mars. The mission: If it moves, kill it. On a busy schedule, that’s a goal I can get behind.
(3) INSIDE: The long-awaited sophomore release from dark Danish devs Playdead, INSIDE follows the eerie mystery of its predecessor LIMBO with a world of mind-control, parasites, and scientists dead-set on discovering… something.
(4) Layers of Fear: Naysayers call it a bunch of cheap jump scares designed for PewDiePie and his ilk–but for me, this was possibly the most terrifying game I’ve ever played. Like Jacob’s Ladder meets The Haunted Mansion, time, space, and object permanence mean nothing as you journey through the home of an insane painter desperate to finish his greatest work… even if it kills him.
(5) Pokemon Go: Need I say more? Sure, the hype only lasted a few weeks, but for that glorious midsummer time, 90s nostalgia and cutting edge AR tech joined forces to turn a good chunk of the urban populace into the pocket-monster hunters we always wanted to be. Just do not trespass while playing.
(Honorable Mentions): Hyper Light Drifter and The Last Guardian: I haven’t finished these yet, but the former is a gorgeous love-letter to SNES-era labyrinthine fantasy action games, and the latter is a legendarily delayed tale of a boy and his enormous killer furry pet (but really, it’s finally out!!).
–Best Albums–
(1) David Bowie, Blackstar: Perhaps it’s the freshness of the wound from his premature passing talking, but the choice was obvious. Prophetically or deliberately, Bowie portrays a stirring vulnerability across these seven jazz-tinged tracks like never before.
(2) Dance with the Dead, The Shape: It takes a lot to stand out among 80s-electronica throwback acts these days–anybody with a synthesizer and neon on their cover can ape John Carpenter. How does DwtD earn its stripes? By bringing dance-floor-ready beats and goosebump-inducing chants and guitar solos into the mix.
(3) Radiohead, A Moon-Shaped Pool: Cool, creeping, and cerebral as ever, Thom Yorke and company reassert their the radio-unfriendly art rock cred with monochrome majesty.
(4) Yeasayer, Amen and Goodbye: From mandolins to child choirs to funky beats, you never know what you’ll get with Yeasayer, but it’s sure to get stuck in your head. Underrated!
(5) Panic! at the Disco, Death of a Bachelor: Frontman Brendon Urie never met an abrupt genre change he didn’t like, but this mashup of glam-rock and swing is still unmistakably P!atD: Raucous, cocky, and Hot-Topical.
–Best Other Songs–
(1) “Light Tunnels,” Macklemore & Ryan Lewis feat. Mike Slap: Selling genuine awe and being starstruck is hard when you’ve already topped the Billboard charts, but somehow Macklemore manages it on this breathless opening track.
(2) “Famous,” Kanye West feat. Rihanna and Swizz Beatz: I just wanted you to know.
(3) “Tiimmy Turner,” Desiigner: Straight, unintelligible fire.
(4) “Campaign Speech,” Eminem: Shady goes a capella–but anything but apolitical–and doesn’t let off the gas for eight minutes. If this is any indication of what his next album will be like, both Marshall Mathers LPs have some serious competition coming down the pipe
(5) “Exist,” Avenged Sevenfold: What else can you ask for in a prog-metal song but a Neil deGrasse Tyson cameo outro?
(6) “Starboy,” The Weeknd feat. Daft Punk: The inimitable hairdo may be gone, but electro-R&B’s golden boy goes for the triple and then some with this infectious title track.
–Best Books–
Embarrassingly, I can only recall one book published in 2016 that I read for pleasure this year: Atlas Obscura. But for anybody into world travel, pick up a (hefty) copy and start marking your maps for the most bizarre and/or fascinating sights the seven continents have to offer!
 –
And that’s about it! Best wishes for a bright(er) 2017. We can have no illusions of it being sunshine and roses, but neither should we resign ourselves to things just getting progressively worse. Every era has its own phase where folks think “it’s all downhill from here,” but self-fulfilling prophecies are the hardest ones to heed. Make the changes you want to see in the world in your own life, and let that conscience motivate you. Let it drive you pursue your goals, whether you want them taken care later today or in ten years.
And remember: this world can still make sense, if you don’t force it to.

Poem of the Week: “The Teenage Waste Land”

I first conceived of this poem years ago, when Honors English introduced me to T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land” and I got an urge to produce a modern version that’d aggressively borrow from my own favorite stirring songs and stories. It sat there until now with only a few lines (that I swiftly deleted), but the tone remains what I had in mind–albeit more worldly now for the self-awareness I’ve gained.

In the interest of treating this like an airlock for my own melancholy, I didn’t listen to any music while writing it or reflect on songs I used to listen to for “inspiration.” If “ISYMFS” was cleaning out my closet, consider this taking the bags to the curb.

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The Teenage Waste Land

This love was out of control.

Tell me, where did it go?

Cold, open—I crawl from the rubble

of bubbly optimism come crashing down

like C4 to a ceiling.

Heels to headboard, bed is a hospital ward,

recuperation indefinite. Now all I can do

is lay in my room, fall asleep, dream of you,

then wake up and do nothing about it.

Songs of ready-made restlessness

spoon-feed solidarity to a tired heart.

 

And yet…

take a number, I guess.

We all have a story to tell, so it might as well

go through a few drafts.

I still remember how I made you feel, once upon a time,

but the market for fairy tales ain’t what it used to be.

I will soon forgot the color of your eyes, but I don’t mind.

Everyone will die and lose,

so what will you do with the moments before it catches you?

Never asked, always implied,

and I am thinking it’s a sign

in the rearview, those lines I cast

before I cut loose and floated away:

Just say how to make things right, and I swear I’ll do

whatever makes you happy,

if it means a lot to you.

Put like that, I get why

guy drama is relationship strychnine.

 

So, know what?

Cast your stones, cast your judgment—

you don’t make me who I am.

I’m a patient man, as you’ve discovered,

and my passion was pen and paper all along.

Are we only damaging what little we have left,

to ever reconnect?

Hell yes.

Nature abhors empty shelves;

the stories of my generation won’t tell themselves.

Let these hazards of love nevermore trouble us.

Growing old’s a fact, but growing up is optional.

 

Yet every line I write’s a cost-benefit analysis.

Is the world better for hearing how morning light looks through my blinds,

or a childhood anecdote recounted in rhythmic alliteration?

And who would know once I do?

Quickly but surely,

circular illogic draws me back to routine:

wait and debate, try and flail,

rush and submit… shit.

One rejection:

a mental injection of barbiturates,

carte blanche to bitch about luck

and how there’s not enough time.

I guess I’ll go home now.

 

But it is plain as anyone can see, we’re simply meant to be

the person we picture when our head touches down—

that gap between dim aspiration and REM respiration.

By morning, I always find the words

when it’s too late to let them slip

and fall, for fear of my stand looking awkward.

Dreams are the only thing smothered above a pillow.

 

So a few weeks, and I’m back

on the horse—a kick, and it’ll stick!

I swear, this time I mean it.

Yet self-set deadlines feel like a vice

of virtue.

So I vow if I don’t follow through…

well, shoot.

Eh, some hell will break loose.

To penciled-in punishment, what a shock when there’s mere pages

for all the ages I’ve celebrated.

 

Maybe we were made for each other,

and maybe the world will look like this forever.

The kind of lie that stretches out hope

like a prisoner on the rack.

Still, palm to palm or ink to page,

it was believable, from a window looking on an alley.

I know I sound crazy—don’t you see what it does to me?

The chance I simply swapped rash ambitions,

the artist’s star in lieu of a lover?

Feathers to gold, the value unbudging?

The pleas for an ingénue cross to an audience:

You’d be good to me, and I’d be so good to you.

Why can’t you just be lonely?

 

This suit, this smile,

this gel-shellacked hair, this friendly Facebook exchange

is just a part I portray.

And I know exactly how it got this way:

Everybody needs some time all alone,

but if you left it up to me,

every day would be a holiday from reality:

a freestyle frenzy of riffs, rides, cliffside hikes,

artificial flavors for the screen and stomach.

It could be seventy-two degrees, zero chance of rain

—a perfect day—

and I’d still take ten thousand gigs of digital infinity.

Too much of anything is too much,

except when the alternative is failing

at the only work I ever chose.

 

I always get in my own way,

but dammit, that means I’ll hit myself on the way to the ground

and keep fighting on.

I can’t change the way I see the world,

and I can’t justify my reasons, but

 

if life is a sea,

then a living is a boat,

and hope is the shoals to which I sail:

some distant, shining semblance of fulfillment.

But it’s so far away,

and the rowing is so tiresome.

It’d be so simple to just go overboard, sink into an ocean

of promotions and prefixed expectations—

boxes to check, T’s to cross, watches to gild—

and let crash the waves of rationalization and procrastination:

action movies, YouTube, Steam, doodles and daydreams.

I need your discipline.

 Just tell me the way I ought to feel, what’s right and wrong.

 

A writer’s work is never done,

but I’m addicted to being finished,

and I need comfort like water in my lungs.

So if I ever asked anything

of the ones who’ve seen me this far,

it’s this:

 

be there, my first mates,

lifejacket at the ready

made of bright red faith.

 

Dive in when I’m down.

Save me from myself.

 

Don’t

let

me

drown.