Some people bite their nails. I had the unfortunate luck to be cursed with the annoying habits of playing music and making objects. It is like getting two broken legs for Christmas. Those of us with the double bite usually end up hearing shapes and seeing sounds, and almost always at inappropriate times. Those eggs at Easter Sunday brunch for example. Materials speak, direct and end up becoming what the muse wanted them to be in the first place. The best one can hope for is to try to act as a responsible conduit.


Narratives of people and events from my present and past that seem to cross pollenate. Renderings of the tick-talk of a metro-gnome and the incessant babblings of a tumble-dweeb. That is what I produce. If you don’t believe that they look the way they sounded or accurately resonate the situations, bear in mind that they were filtered through and then made by a person that has the social grace of a cholla, the warmth and charm of a parking structure and the tactical intelligence of a waffle iron.