Inward, Upward, Onward, Noward.
[If you’re reading this page, it means you were invited to see an early, private glimpse of this project. Thanks for tuning in!]
Without much consideration of what my desires in life may entail, I spent the first quarter century of my life subscribing to the norms set out before me. Just like those department store catalogues that show up in the mail; no idea how they got my address, yet I ingest them and somehow end up resembling the cover styles put forth. Then I got divorced, burnt all the catalogues, and have begun the journey inward, upward, allward, onward. Leading expedition trips to the trenches of the psyche and summits of the soul. A familiar narrative for a middle-class male my age, light in skin heavy in immunity- and at the same time, pain is pain, love is love. Across the board. These are a few of the sentiments that have come forth as I circumnavigate the lower 48 states, participating in communities, wilderness and interpersonal coming of age. A big ol’ divine hug from the peoples of the country and the child in myself.
Goal: Create multi a faceted body of print and digital work that supports the primary creative expression of these roadtrip-rambling discoveries: a ten song musical collection LP album.
The Route. One Year.
Breaking Ground Musically: Green Boogie Board.
Here’s the first sonic creation capturing a slice of the narrative. This particular jingle will evolve— enjoy the blissful naivety of this installment.
Green Boogie Board.
Freedom is here. The old kind. Schools out for summer underneath a cloudless sky. Breeze off the ocean, smell of hot blacktop. Frosted flakes for dinner, ice cream to top it off.
I could live forever with these rubber joints of mine. Call me on the home phone, I’ll run to Loon Point. Wind in the channel, waves to be ridden. Upright I’ll stand on my green boogie board.
If I can’t be a kid anymore, throw away my green boogie board. Hand on to my yellow rashguard, so I will always remember, the brightness I wore.
Freedom stopped coming round, when I became of age. To serve cold beers, tie up cleats, ten year old first mate. Waves were breaking all around the boat: port, stern and starboard. Hiding in the galley was my green boogie board.
If I can’t be a kid anymore, throw away my green boogie board. Hand on to my yellow rashguard, so you will always see me. When I get too far from shore.
Left my post on the family boat, my dad would fend for himself. Met a gal and we married quick, over the mountains we would dwell. Things were going pretty good, then there was a knocking on my door. A younger me was standing there holding my green boogie board.
He was singing. If you can’t be a kid anymore, I’ll be here everyday knocking on your door. Until you put on that yellow rashguard, and stand upright on that green boogie board. I will always remember the brightness that you wore. I will always see you when I get too far from shore.