time and effort don’t equal results

sometimes to write means to let go.

letting go of concepts, ideas, visions, and perceptions.

letting the pen and the music take you. wherever that leads.

it’s like going to a new city. you can make plans and a list of things you want to see, or you can let life guide you.

you might not see everything, but you experience it.

as I get close to finishing my new album, I can honestly say:

I’ve never been more excited about something I created.

I worked harder than ever. wrote more songs and tossed more away. re-recorded things. tried and failed. tried again.

it wasn’t always easy. moments of frustration, self-doubt, and wondering if it was even worth it.

because time and effort don’t always mean better results.

but I had to do it. and I’m glad I did.

I lost some of the spark and curiosity around music in the past few years.

life got loud. paying the bills, trying to be a good dad, trying to make it in music while giving more than I take.

but through this work, the love came back. the joy. the wonder.

the love for songs. for sound. for words.

the love for the work.

I know you don’t have to spend this much time on an album these days.

it’s a world of singles, reels, and short-form everything.

but I followed my gut. fully. no compromise.

I quit my job as a bike messenger and dedicated myself to this. again.

music has always been a huge part of my life.

it’s brought highs and lows, worry and doubt. but also incredible memories, beautiful friendships, and so much love.

and maybe this album will open hearts. maybe it’ll open doors.

maybe it’ll mean I don’t have to keep crashing on couches or eating one-dollar meals every day.

maybe I can pay my bills on time.

maybe I won’t have to walk an hour home because I couldn’t pay the bus driver.

maybe it won’t.

I don’t know.

and strangely, that doesn’t matter.

but I gave it my all.

and I love it.

and I’m proud of it.

and that’s enough.

almost finished (ain’t finished)

i’m sitting on a bus. to italy. a few days of sun. a few days of distraction. change of scene.

after writting and recording lots and lots i had to realize i need to set a deadline. or i just keep creating without finishing anything.

so the last two weeks i was locked in. a few microphones. a bunch of guitars, a drum set and some old fleamarket shit that makes sounds. and i started.

and now the album is almost done. intense but rewarding and something i am excited about.

in a way that was the whole purpose on making an album for me in 2025.

so a few days in the sun its gonna be now and then off to finishing the songs.

for what its worth, i do want to share these songs with the world.

with you.

and it never turns out quite the way…

This week, I’ve spent nearly all my time in the studio. Barely seeing anyone. Working (or more like playing) for a few hours, sleeping a bit, then diving right back into the music.

They say the muse shows up at random times but you have to be there, ready.

And I was.

And she showed up.

I’m not a religious or very spiritual person, but there’s something about writing music that feels spiritual. You never really know where it’s going to take you. You just let the current pull you, and this week, I let it take me.

These songs are starting to come together. I had a clear vision for the album, the arc, the story, the path I wanted to walk. And it’s funny how the vision is revealing itself… just in a completely different way than I imagined.

All I know is that I’m having fun bleeding on these pages.

And for the first time in a while, I’m really excited about it.

freedom, or the lack of it

Nothing is ever fully free.

And that’s probably for the best.

Love is the clearest example.

You can’t truly love and be fully free at the same time.

I’ve stopped aiming for freedom.

I don’t chase it anymore.

For me, it’s all about not being a slave —

a slave to someone else’s emotions,

their business, ideas, or concept of life.

This has become the key for me:

a life in peace and simplicity.

the in between

Familiar streets. Same old patterns.

I’ve walked them hundreds of times

sometimes sober,

sometimes drunk,

always searching for something more.

I’ve lived in all kinds of places before.

They’re all different, of course,

different rhythms, different skies,

and different versions of me.

Each one carries a spirit.

An energy you can feel as soon as you arrive.

And still, none ever truly felt like home.

Sometimes I catch a glimpse of who I was in these streets:

Late nights walking home from nowhere,

Chasing highs, chasing quiet.

And sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d stayed.

Maybe it’s not about fitting in.

Maybe it’s about finding the places

where you can disappear and still feel seen.