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I strongly considered calling it quits last week. I was over being The Musician in about fifteen seconds. Coupled with a few other existential challenges that came my way concurrent the being outed in The Gray Lady, the whole week, well, the whole week just sucked it. Hard. I considered changing my name back to…

I don’t visit mountains with frequency. I haven’t stood with my arms outstretched in years. This is a problem. I was eight-years-old when I first saw a mountain. My father drove my brother, my cousin Bruce, and me across the great Midwestern plains to the edge of the Rockies in a brown Oldsmobile station wagon.…

I released my first solo album three months after disbanding my college band, Smokey Junglefrog. I was 21-years-old. The record was called “Always Almost There.” It was recorded in the weeks following my graduation from Syracuse University, and engineered by my friend Steve Feldman (who engineered the first Queens of the Stone Age record). It’s…

I got glasses and braces at virtually the same time: just a few days into my first year at Conestoga High School. The glasses were big ole’ tortoise shell horn rimmed things. They were big. Like, each lens was as wide as a pint glass. I loved ’em. I wore ’em all through high school.…

To say that resetting my broken jaw without anesthesia was painful is a monumental understatement. To say that showing my face at school later that summer was somehow worse is straight up fact. It was, perhaps not surprisingly, a love triangle that found me in a bloody heap on the sidewalk in front of the…

I will never date in this town again. Ok, let’s discuss surreal. Location: Las Vegas McCairn International Airport. The din of slot machines chimes loudly over U2’s “A Man And A Woman” on my iPod. The Strip shimmers just across the tarmac. I’m waiting on Jet Blue Flight 192 to John F. Kennedy Airport less…