Sixty-Four by Thirty

My work is not done, but I'm on summer vacation.

A few trips to the pool, a few good home-cooked meals. Some good times with friends.

A last gasping grasp at youth before the big tres cero.

Through my childhood I've wanted to be a singer, a songwriter, someone who records music.

I've played shows in different cities, even out of the country. I've written songs people have listened to without meeting me.

But in the prime of a life spent studying music, poetry, songwriting, the history of American music, the culture of rock and roll, I know I can do more.

In the sixty-four days of now through my birthday, I am going to record sixty-four original songs.

They won't paint a picture of me. They might not explain your life to you. They may not be the greatest work of a great composer, toiling in obscurity beneath the digital noise of a million equal minds pushing that same rock up the same road.

They probably won't even all be great songs.

But the unrecorded life is lived only on faith, and I am not always a person of such strong faith.

So today, after months of choosing a project, rejecting everything I know I cannot sustain, I am sitting down as one of the oldest young men on the planet to do my work.

And after my work is done, I hope you will enjoy it.