Since high-school I’ve had an affinity for coffeeshops. It started back at Denny’s on route 41 in Highland Park, IL where my friends and I would smoke Camel Lights, drink obscene amounts of joe, and chat about Jazz aficionado Larry Smith who hosted late-nights on WBEZ. Later on I carried my mounds of notebooks to Artemis restaurant in the Deerfield Commons where I wrote the majority of my lyrics for Letters Never Sent, and tracks that would end up on Songs For The Sacred Age. Now that I live in the city, I rotate between Pick Me Up on Clark, Kopi up in Andersonville, and Knockbox in Humboldt Park. I still love my notebooks, but much have my writing has gone over to the digital side, which is a topic large enough for its own post.
Digging in the Dirt
It’s been a helluva few years. I had a string of manic episodes, got divorced, lost my apartment of 25 years, and was diagnosed with
August 3, 2023
