Tonight I was punched in the face by an American flag.

I feel Cat Stevens and Elliott Smith in my blood. I desire to write music that rocks without rocking. That says something. I want to write haunting and beautiful melodies. Something that somebody, somewhere, listens to while they lay in bed, thinking of how much they can relate to every word I hum. I will sing of seashell eyes and windy smiles. I will write, even if it ends up just being for myself.