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Body
This song began on February 2, 2025, the second day of FAWM – February Album Writing Month, a worldwide challenge to write a song every other day totaling fourteen songs by the end of the month. I had just rediscovered fawm.org when signing up and found that I already had an account from 2015. Here I was nearly ten years later attempting it for the first time.
I was traveling by van in Tasmania. I drove out to stay the night near a small town called Evandale, where I was going to meet an artist named Kier Stevens for an interview the next morning. I found a lot near a small river where people camp their RVs overnight. I got there, walked my things out to a little gazebo and made myself a camp meal – lentils, rice and tuna, pretty standard camp cooking throughout my time in Tassie. Afterwards I took a seat at the edge of the gazebo facing out towards the road, played guitar on my camp chair and watched the sunset. The melodies and words came all at once. By the time the sun went down I had worked out the changes, melodies and most of the words.The next day I did the interview with Kier in the park. On the fourth I recorded the original demo – I was staying with my good friend Josh, who rented a room with two beds at a little bed and breakfast up in Ulverstone on the north coast of Tassie. While he was off working during the day I set up and recorded the demo in the room, playing his 1950s jazz guitar and trying not to sing too loudly.
Original Demo:The most recent demo came at the end of that visit, already into March. The bones are from the original but if you listen to them back to back you’ll hear some differences – new layers, new vocal takes, guitars, programmed parts, percussion, drums, synthesizers. Most of what came after the Ulverstone recording was done in the van, most of it in one very cold night where I felt a massive burst of inspiration and stayed up till the sun came up just working on this tune. It was too cold to play guitar so any ideas that came into my head I would program with the keyboard on my laptop. By the time I was done, the sun had risen so ferociously hot that I couldn’t sleep! That was rough on the body. The most recent mix was done on the plane flying over the Pacific in the middle of March on my way back to the US.
I wasn’t able to balance the FAWM challenge with traveling, living out of the van, doing interviews and gigs and other recordings. All in all I think I only wrote three songs that month. This was the first and the best of them.
The song is about something I was feeling at the time – that I needed to get more into my body. It’s been a lifelong pattern for me to spend so much of my time either focused on external activities and pursuits or otherwise internal. I am a very mental person. I spend a lot of time in my thoughts. At times I feel like my body just hangs from my head. I take care of it with basic maintenance, I try to eat well and sleep when I can, but the serious thoughtful intention I put into my body is a fraction of what I put into my thoughts, my creative pursuits, my skills, my travels, my studies, my people and so on.
A more specific realization at the time of writing this song was that I was coming out of a period of maybe five or six months where I was deeply concerned with mortality – exploring the philosophy around death. I read several books, listened to hours of lectures, interviews and podcasts, and wrote about half a dozen songs concerning death and mortality in one way or another. These thoughts go in waves for me, something that has come and gone since I was a child, but this was a particularly deep and productive time. I feel I managed to move the ball forward. I was sitting quite comfortably with the topic by the end of it.
But the thing I felt most strongly by the end of it all was simply this: I possess the antidote to any concern, any worry, any fear around death. I am alive. I have a body. I am a body. All that rumination, as useful as it may be for writing songs and gaining perspective, is not really all that productive in itself. What if every hour I’ve ever spent worrying about death had been spent instead just focusing on what I can sense, on being truly alive, engaging directly with life in a visceral way, using all of me and not just the words sounding silently in my head.
I believe my death does not concern me. The only thing I should be concerned with is life. And so this song is a manifesto, a meditation, a reminder – to be present, to seek presence and stay present, to seek comfort and fullness within the body as it is. Not to get too carried away with the external or the internal dialogue.
It’s been a year since I wrote this. I’m still largely concerned with the externals and the world of my thoughts. But I have felt much more at peace within my body in the last year. I guess the declaration stuck.
“Body”I’ve been running from the void
What did that bring?
But sickness of mind
And so much long lost time
I will ditch my bags
Try to sit still
I’m not used to being in my body
I’ll get used to itBody heals itself
Unlike mind
Which left unchecked grows sick with time
And I got used to it
Now I want peace insideIn the body
Coming home
Take some time find peace inside -
My Opinions
My Opinions began with lyrics written around February 2022. I don’t remember a specific incident that inspired them – the inspiration just seemed to be all around me. The earliest recording was an acapella voice memo I made while driving in the rain, awkwardly hunting for a melody with the lyrics in my mind. By mid-March the melodies were mostly worked out but I’d only written about half the song. It wasn’t until late 2023 during a song-a-week challenge that I finally finished it.
Revisiting it now while writing this entry I went back and listened to those early demos. The earliest full version had this bouncy, upbeat fingerpicking feel – faster, more driving, more attitude. At some point I settled into something more laid-back and lost that edge. Listening back I think I prefer the earlier version. I might go back to it.
This is a satirical song. The narrator is someone whose personal identity is so intertwined with their opinions that they can’t separate the two – and yet they have no real awareness of where those opinions came from in the first place.
I used to think I was writing songs like this to point a finger at what I saw wrong in the world around me. But I think it’s more honest to say that these songs are cautionary notes to myself. I’ll take on a character, point outward, but really I’m processing something I recognize in myself. A frustration, a dissatisfaction, a tendency I want to keep in check.
In this case I am writing about somebody whose opinions have gotten away from them – yet I am beaming with opinions about having opinions while I do it.
An opinion isn’t a preference and it isn’t a fact. It’s a subjective hypothesis about a matter, based on the best information I have – with ignorance, limitations and blind spots built in. We are limited creatures. Limited by our senses, by the information available to us, by our ability to understand that information, by time and space. There is only so much you can learn in one lifetime. I believe there is vastly more that we will never know than anything we could possibly learn.
How could I possibly take my opinions so seriously? What troubles me isn’t that we have opinions. It’s when the opinions become our identities. When disagreeing with someone’s view feels like an attack on who they are. At that point the opinion can no longer be examined – it has to be defended.
My opinion is not my identity. I don’t put much stock in the idea of a fixed personal identity in the first place – but that’s a whole other opinion to dissect.
I believe that many of our strongly held opinions weren’t arrived at through any deep process of critical thought. They were inherited, learned, absorbed. We heard something, it fit with what we already believed, we adopted it, forgot we adopted it, and now it’s ours. People will fight over a difference in opinion. They will hurt people. They will hurt themselves. People have killed over a different opinion. And a lot of those opinions, if you trace them back far enough, came from somewhere they can’t even identify.
I’m not exempt. My opinions are suspect too – all of them, including everything I just said.
My Opinions
Where do we go when we die
And more importantly
When we die
Where do our opinions go
I hope that they live on and on
In the hearts of those whom we had the chance
To get up on our soapbox
And mouth off toPlease tell me
Tell me that it’s okay
To stay here holding on to
These words in mind for all time
I call my opinionsIn my home the news plays day and night
And it shows me just exactly what the world is like
The newsmen speak so plain and truthfully
So you know it don’t surprise me
That when they talk they always seem to speak
My opinions
My opinionsWhere oh where do we come from
And more importantly
Where do these opinions that I call my own come from
I don’t know I may never know
But what I do know Is that I seem to think much better than
A lot of other peoplePlease don’t tell me
You’ve got it figured out
When words fall out your mouth
Are silly words
That differ from my own
My opinions
My opinions -
Werns

I wrote the first verse of this song in January 2024. Just as the song suggests, I was chilling at the beach watching my dogs dig. I can picture it vividly – sitting on Battle Rock Beach on a beautiful January afternoon, the dogs were digging and just making me laugh. I was filled with joy as I am in the simple moments with them. I think I wrote down the first few lines just as they are, and within a few days I started singing and playing this funky guitar melody to those words. The original demo was me just working out the melody with no more than four lines. Originally I had an extended melody for the intro and ended up keeping a compressed version of it for the demo I recorded. From there I didn’t develop the idea at all until January 2026, despite the song making it to several lists of “need to finish” song ideas and several rounds of song-a-week groups.
This was a classic example of an idea that began without a premise – just a moment in time. As simple as the moment was and as simply as I wrote it down, I didn’t have a vision for the song beyond just describing that experience. I’ve lived half of my legal adult life with my dogs. They are such a major part of my life, as close to me as any human. Returning to develop this idea, I decided to dig into one of the most astonishing facts about the relationship between humans and canines: the sheer timescale.
Far from Chihuahuas, we relied on them for protection and warmth, for aid in hunting and tracking, for safety. I believe there is something quintessentially human about this relationship – our ancestors chose each other and evolved together. Dogs have been on every continent, they’ve been in space, they’ve been present in every civilization. And now here we are. We call them man’s best friend, our closest and longest standing evolved companions. I feel this when I’m with my dogs. I feel it when I’m not thinking about it, and when I do think about it sometimes I feel a rush of love and honor. I feel so human and so connected to our history, our ancestors. I cherish my dogs. We carry them to the day they pass and carry them with us until our time comes. As we wander the beaches and forests of Oregon, and beyond – they live the majority of their days in the wild and spend little time behind fences, collar and leash. Often on our excursions we don’t see another human. Like our ancestors wandering together side by side.




This song became a tribute not just to my dogs who I adore, but a statement on the humility I feel in their presence – acknowledging our ancient past together.
P.S. The title is just one of dozens of silly names I’ve arrived at to call my dogs.
“Werns”
Chilling at the beach
Watching my dogs digging
A face shaped hole then they dive right in
They got me laughingThey give me a goofy sandy look
Their tails wag in the breeze
The bond we share is an ancient one
We’ve been together so longBefore we named our Gods
We had dogs
Before we wrote, before we spoke
Any language known todayThey kept us safe out on the hunt
They kept us warm in the cave
We shared our food and buried their dead
They’ve been family for so longBefore we planted seeds
Before we built cities
From the cave to outer space
We’ve come a long way togetherChilling at the beach
Watching my dogs digging
The bond we share is an ancient one
Tens of thousands of years long
-
Fallen Giant
This song has a long history. The first demos date back to 2017. At this point I cannot remember what I was initially writing about, but the essence of the original demo remains somewhat in Fallen Giant – particularly in the instrumental section before the second verse and the outro.
For years the song sat unfinished. It made it onto several lists of ideas to return to and through several rounds of song-a-week groups without ever getting developed. I never cared enough for it to record a full demo. Then in the spring of 2025 I was traveling the US with my dogs and at the end of a long journey we spent the last few days slowly making our way up the California coast, taking quality time amongst the redwoods of Humboldt and Del Norte counties. It was on a hike through the redwoods that we came across the fallen giant that inspired this final iteration of the song. I wrote some of my thoughts down at the time:
I was hiking through the California coastal redwoods and came upon a fallen giant. The root system alone was massive – way bigger than me. I marveled at it at first, then walked around the side to see the actual tree, which must have fallen many years ago as its topside was completely covered with ferns, trees, clovers, moss. This tree must have lived at least a thousand years and now in death so much life springs forth – a whole new world growing off its back, with many plants and probably insects and other animals living their lives on and around the corpse of this giant.
All the nutrients it had acquired in its very long life are released into the ecosystem to feed this new life. It’s beautiful. When we pass we may not be hundreds of feet tall and thousands of years old but the same fate awaits us.
The bodies we inhabit, the seat of our ego and consciousness, will cease to exist in the static form we know and this transfer of energy and life will begin. The materials that make us up will be broken down and offered up to the environment. And that forward motion of life continues. I believe this is what reincarnation truly is. Compared to a lot of the myths that we’ve known in human history maybe it seems a little anticlimactic or dissatisfying. But it is true. If we decide that all we are is what is being projected from our brains then I don’t think there is anything for us after death. But if we are to identify ourselves with and recognize that we are not separate – that there is no us without our environment – then we can understand that the matter that makes us up is eternal. We will lose our sense of consciousness as we’ve known it, the human ego, memories, all of it will be gone. But what we are on the deepest physical level will remain in some form for longer than the redwood stood. Don’t be confused – just because the brain will cease to exist doesn’t mean it’s all for nothing. Because it’s happening just this once, here and now, it means so much more. We exist.

Later, during the song-a-week group in the fall of 2025, I started to revisit the tune – which I had previously called Heaven Is Wasted – and was reminded of this new perspective and lesson from the redwood tree on the physical reincarnation of the body. I never really liked the overall lyrics and perspective in the previous version and felt this was something much more interesting and worth exploring. I took my writings from the spring and adapted them to make up the first verses.
During this time I was visiting Crescent City weekly and taking regular trips to the redwoods around Highway 199 and a couple of trips up the Chetco River to the redwood groves in Oregon. I was searching for other fallen redwoods to sit with and contemplate and write on. I found that I wasn’t writing a lot during those visits – instead I was just reveling in their presence. I didn’t feel too inspired to write anymore on the subject at that point, and although I managed to write the middle section in that time, I didn’t know where the song would go. I sat and wrote the last verse amongst the redwoods in early February 2026 and everything was fleshed out and finalized during the final recording session.

These days I’ve been splitting my time between Del Norte and Curry Counties, spending time with the redwoods as often as possible.
In the redwood forest
I find a fallen giant
Whose roots tower over me
Once touched the sky
Now resting at my feetI walk around to take a look
At the body of an ancient being
A whole new world grows on it’s back
And I’m humbledIt must have lived a thousand years or more
And now in death it bursts with
Moss and ferns
Slugs, birds, berries and clovers
Salamanders, witches butter
So much life and so much colorI won’t live a thousand years
I won’t grow 400 feet
I don’t know when I’ll fall
But when I do, I know what awaits meLike the fallen giant
I will rest where I once stood
All the little bits that made me up
Will break down, go back to the earth
And carry on
Forever and ever
Carry on
Forever and ever -
Maytag Land
The song was mostly composed, arranged, and recorded within my van amidst travels down to Los Angeles in February 2026.
The song began from a Reddit prompt: “Write a song about the happy land where socks are escaping to. But try to write it in a minor key, and add some twist.”
It’s rare that I write from a prompt but I always appreciate prompt writing for pushing me to write something that otherwise most likely never would have been considered. It provides a kind of safe distance from what I’m writing – I don’t have to feel too attached. It’s a pure creative exercise with just enough structure to give me a direction and enough flexibility to be creative within it.
I found this particular prompt interesting and a bit curious. I struggled at first to find an approach that made sense to me. I started writing about the many socks without pairs I’ve got in a drawer and a few other things that felt too concrete. Eventually I removed myself from the story and focused instead on it being a sort of recruitment song – from the socks to the listener. As I wrote those lines I started to view them as refugees, escaping a harsh reality to a place outside of time where they will not be used and abused, ripped up, chewed up and thrown away. For the darker twist, I wrote that there’s only one way in and no way out.
As a jumping off point I started from visualizing the laundry room at my house, which was once the studio, but now the cat room with, like the song says, litter boxes and a catio door.
This is an example of a song where I essentially wrote most of it away from the instrument. I started with the lyrics and then began to hear them set to a melody. The majority of the melodies were composed without even touching a guitar – I sang them into a voice note while driving. It was my second night on the road, waiting out a storm near Bakersfield, where I was set up in the van working out the melodies and harmonizing them on guitar.
I had no concrete idea for a musical arrangement at that point. I kind of imagined it being arranged for piano, or sort of toy piano – almost like a song that would be in a children’s show. But ultimately the song took on a more straightforward guitar and vocal arrangement. The melody was set before I even touched the guitar though. There are several different movements in the song and everything was driven by this changing melody.
Here’s the response I got from the Redditor who gave me the prompt:
“This is GREAT! Cool 70s-like sound, carefree and well-done lyrics! ‘Join us in the dryer and shut the door behind you’ 😅 And the dryer sound in the end. A fantastic choice. Thank you for making my prompt into something so nice! 😊”
I gave them a counter prompt in return: Write a song that tells a story in reverse chronological order – starting with the end, then the middle, ending with the beginning.
I’d like to do something with that eventually. But for now, here’s Maytag Land.
There’s a place
Down the hall way
Past the litter box and catio doorA magic space
There’s only one way
In and no way outWhere all is warm
And all is fluff
Theres treasure there
And softness in the airEveryone’s an individual
Not a single pair
And you can join us thereIn Maytag land
Come join our clan
We’ll throw a sock party for you
Be one of us
We are not lost
We have each otherJust get into the dryer
And shut the door behind you
Those socks, you thought were lost?
We’ll reunite you
The bills and coins that disappeared are waiting for you
Your guitar pick?
We got that too
You can play a little doodle looIn Maytag land
Come join our band
We’ll play a sock party with you
Be one of us
Join our chorus
We’ll sing togetherLa la la
In maytag land
Time sits still
We don’t grow old
And don’t grow holes
Never stepped on never trashed
Never ripped up by the cats
We’ve left the cold hard world behind
And we can’t go backCome join us in the dryer
And shut the door behind you -
March [2024]
March is a collection of songs and videos self-produced between February and April 2024, beginning at home in Oregon and continuing as I traveled between Oregon, Hawaii, mainland Australia, and Tasmania.
These tracks cover a span of six years and a distance of 8,000 miles. Some took months of creative teeth-pulling to put together. Others were written and recorded in a few hours — one in the moment of creation. Recorded across states and continents, across different moods and seasons and lifetimes. Edited, mixed and arranged on buses, planes, in forests, cliff sides, spare bedrooms, a van, a dome, and probably more odd spaces that escape me now. They are united in that they were completed in the month of March.
Everything you hear and see was self-produced. The audio was mastered and videos re-cut for final release in April 2024, shortly after joining a recording session with some crazy hippies at MONA Museum’s Frying Pan Studios in Tasmania.
1. AcasoBuilt around “Temple City Theme,” a piece of music written on the road in 2014 and dedicated to the San Gabriel Valley suburb where I grew up. The song became a reflection on returning home after years of travel to help my family through the sale of my childhood home and my parents’ separation – and the ongoing search for new homes that followed. Written during the first song-a-week challenge, fall 2023. Full entry and lyrics →
2. Scroll Hole
A short song about a recurring experience: reaching for the phone to open the tuner app and emerging twenty minutes later from an Instagram spiral with nothing to show for it. Written in March 2024, recorded and filmed in the guest room of my friend Alex’s family home in Adelaide, South Australia – an all-nighter with my face buried in a camera lens. Full entry and lyrics →
3. Sweet Sleep
An instrumental piece from a series of horn-driven compositions I call Dokie Okie. Cut together with video from a rare snow day at home in Port Orford – the snowfall lasted about twenty minutes, but I grabbed the camera and ran through every room shooting until it stopped. Full entry →
4. Gutter Baby
A character study drawn from people I met traveling around Montreal, Humboldt, and Mendocino counties, with roots in a dusty notebook from 2014-2015 when I was hitchhiking the states heavy. An amalgamation of stories heard on the street, some of my own experiences, and a hard-won happy ending. First demo completed January 2024 during a song-a-week challenge. Full entry and lyrics →
5. Cloudsurf
A beat made with the Jamstik MIDI guitar, cut to a rainy night drive into Old Town Bandon, OR.
6. Somewhere New
Written five years before the March release, this one captures the feeling of marching into the unknown. Shot in the Canary Islands — La Palma and Tenerife, the home island of my great-grandfather.
7. Miles Away
Written on a drive home along the southern Oregon coast, coming around the bend at Humbug Mountain when the ocean suddenly snapped me back into the present. A song about autopilot — all the time that passes while you’re somewhere else. Recorded at sunset on the cliffs at Sister’s Rock, playing until it got dark and cold. Full entry and lyrics →
8. Real Life
Written and recorded on a day of hitchhiking outside of Swansea, Tasmania. A sketch that became a song about sitting with uncertainty and staying open to what it brings.
9. Oahu Noodles
Two improvisations recorded on the porch of a hostel on the north shore of Oahu, the morning of my last day on the island. Recorded guitar and synth into a handheld recorder through headphones until the batteries died- caught a flight to Sydney that afternoon. Full entry →
10. Beaten Track
The tale of a relationship going from a joy ride to a runaway hell ride. The wavy keys are a Jamstik running through a borrowed Nord Stage 3.
11. Can’t Abide
A song about choosing time over money, work that means something over work that pays. Written in a couple of hours, finished before I even knew it. Full entry, video and lyrics →
12. Been Missin
he sister song to Dust. Written after a two-hour phone call with an old friend I hadn’t spoken to in years, walking the dogs on the beach in the sun. About the moment the reconnection finally happens and you discover that though much has changed, much is the same. Full entry and lyrics →
That’s all folks! March wasn’t necessarily planned as an ‘album’ – I simply set out to release everything I finished within the span of a month (or two) and these were the songs and videos I managed to finish in that time. I’m certain some of these songs will find new life in future arrangements, recordings and releases. Stay tuned!
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Sweetheart
Sweetheart began its life as a jumbled mess of riffs, melodies and nonsensical phrases stitched together with musical scotch tape. There were four or five sections to this piece but little intention behind the original lyrics. It didn’t go anywhere. Originally recorded in December 2024, it was almost a year later when I salvaged one guitar riff and a melody which became the jumping off point for Sweetheart.

I went to a screening of Hayao Miyazaki’s film Howl’s Moving Castle in theaters in fall 2025. I had seen it a couple times before, but this time I was particularly captivated and the impact of the time travel elements and relationship between Howl and Sophie hit me stronger than ever before. I felt inspired to write a song about their relationship, and began writing from the perspective of Howl, beginning with the first words that Howl spoke to Sophie in the movie:
“There you are, sweetheart. Sorry I’m late. I was looking everywhere for you”
Directly after leaving the theater I began writing lines inspired directly from the dialogue and events of the movie. Somehow the demo I mentioned above came to my mind and I found that some of the lines seemed to land perfectly in time with the riff and fit one of the melodies of the demo – “way back in the past when I was just a boy I heard a voice that called my name.”

From there I began working out the song at home, writing about the movie in a fun and interesting process, quite different from any other song I’ve written. I was pulling up lots of quotes and watching scenes of the movie along the way, and I even watched the movie again at home about a week after seeing it in the theater. This time I wrote down any quotes that felt significant and any notes on the events, dialogue, themes and characters in the film.
I had so much to pull from, and I spent a couple weeks writing, and editing and writing and editing some more. Initially I wrote more exposition into the song, including more elements from the story, even referencing other characters. But in the end I wound up cutting much of what I had written, instead choosing to focus on what I felt was the most compelling part of the story – the relationship between Sophie and Howl, and the presence of magic, danger, time travel and so on in their connection. The lyrics guided the musical development and arrangement of the piece, taking a short riff and melodic motif and stretching them in many directions, bringing about whole new sections and themes that were not in the original demo. I’d say 80% or more from that original demo was scrapped or shelved, and the song turned into a much more intricate and interesting piece of music than where it began. I intend to re-record this song in a live band arrangement within the next couple months, stay tuned.
I’m quite happy with how the song turned out. It’s a tribute to a beautiful piece of art from one of my favorite creators and film studios. All thanks and credit goes to Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli.
“Sweetheart”
There you are
Sweetheart
I’ve been
Looking for you
Everywhere
Since you called
To me
Way back in thePast when I was just a boy
I heard a voice that called my name
You told me then
To look for you
I’m sorry that I took so long
To find you
My SweetheartToo long I’ve lived heartless
I fought and turned monstrous
So scared I can’t stand it
Hiding behind this magicI was searching for so long
And now you’re here and you’re involved
There is danger we’ve been cursed and you have seen me at my worst
But you don’t flinch and you don’t scare
I’m filled with courage when you’re there beside me
My sweetheartSweetheart
Love of my life
Sweetheart
Love of my lifeI’m done running away
I will come home to stay
At last I’ve found someone
Who I want to keep safe
My sweetheart
Love of my lifeYou take my heart and feel its warmth
You feel it flutter like a bird
You break the spell and lift the curse
And we are free to be together
Sweetheart
Love of my life
Sweetheart
Love of my life
Sweetheart
Love of my life
-
Redwood Nature Trail — Moving Water
Redwood Nature Trail — Field Recording
In January 2025 I took a drive up the beautiful Chetco River on a mission to capture the sights and sounds of water flowing along the Redwood Nature Trail. A frequent stop when I find myself in Brookings, the Redwood Nature Trail is just eight miles up North Bank Road – half a mile past Alfred A Loeb state park. Here lives the northernmost redwood grove in the US with old growth redwoods reaching up to 250 feet tall and 10 feet in diameter. According to the USDA some of these trees are estimated to be as old as 800 years in age.
The 1.1 mile loop begins along a creek, which on this January day was flowing quite strong. I arrived as the winter sun was setting and captured these clips as the last light began to fade. The audio was recorded using a Zoom H6 field recorder, mixing the detachable XY microphone with a Rode NT5 condenser mic – pointed at the source. Each scene has a distinct sound. The first video is a compilation of each scene, changing approximately every thirty seconds. The subsequent videos are extended versions of each scene ranging from 1-3 minutes each. Please watch, listen and enjoy. Best to listen with headphones.