generic enhances his problem solving skills by writing, performing, composing, producing, promoting, designing, and organizing. generic also meditates, goofs around, never speaks in absolutes, and loves and hates moderation. He tries to channel the spirit of growth in progress, cosmic guidance, and sometimes Dr. Jack Shephard, on his bad days, in his songs.

A somewhat science-based podcast hosted by local comedians Daniel Frana, James Hartley-Prime, and Andrew Thomas.

These are the sounds of depression, of youth, of romance, and of course, of heartbreak. This is the soundtrack to 4am trips to the Pharmacy Cafe (Blue Joe's coffee), pulling all-nighters to finish a project for art school, sitting in my bed in my tiny studio apartment in the dark after having just vomited from too many energy drinks and acid reflux in the shared bathroom of my building (Portland, OR). The sounds of all-nighters in the pedmall and the University of Iowa computer labs and parties at my friends' houses and sneaking into bars with the other underage pedrats (Iowa City, IA). The sounds of mourning, of lamenting, of wishing, of hoping...of knowing that there has got to be a better way...that one day, the struggle will end...that one day, it will all have been worth it.  These are songs of persevering through pain. Of the eternal conflict between idealism and cynicism.

These are the poems and the tunes that expressed my obession with youth as I became an adult and felt obligated to join a world that I stereotypically despised.  They are all horribly unprofessional recordings, created in the wee hours of the night as I whispered into a half-broken radio shack microphone under a blanket to avoid disturbing my neighbors. They are songs of borrowed time, for I always had drawing to practice, homework to finish, "do pushups and situps every day" staring menacingly at me from the note on my fridge.  Every time I sat down to sing and play guitar, for years, was a guilty pleasure.

I rarely shared any of these recordings with anyone outside of my family.  My lyrics and music are very personal to me.  As I was depressed and anxious during much of the time that I wrote these, mental conditions which I've slowly been overcoming, the older the song, the more vulnerable.  Many of them don't take a lot of musical skill to play.  I didn't have a lot of vocal talent (I still don't have much); what little I did have doesn't shine through in my haphazard gerry-rigged recordings.

But I decided to play these for my friends finally. When I first wrote this courageous confession, I was 25, and had been writing songs and poems for nine years.  It is now 3 years later and I'm finally making this public. I consider myself a writer, a musician, a poet.  I have this past writing career, in my mind.  Not a professional career, not a successful one, but one whose progress I can measure, one whose ups and downs are indiciative of my mental state, of where I was living, of who I was dating or had broken up with, who I hung out with.  I went through different phases in my poetry and songwriting.  This is an integral part of myself that I've rarely shared with any of my friends.

These songs and poems are literally stories that defined me--they are quite autobiographical.  Through my experiences I wrote these stories.  I have long believed that the social-justice function of writing, poetry, and stories is to enlighten people.  We learn from the experiences of others.  Through my insecurities at their weaknesses, and through my obessive paranoia about protecting my creative works, I never did the world the favor of sharing my ideas.

Not to sound full of myself.  I'm well aware of the poor quality of many of these recordings.  But I hope that at least a little bit of the idea behind them, the passion with which I felt what I said and played, shines through in at least some of them.  I hope that somewhere through the fuzz of my 1/4-inch-to-1/8-converter-sound card recordings, through the dead notes, and slightly off-timing, you can hear the honest feelings of a 19- or 22-year old kid bleeding his heart out.  And I hope it means something to you.

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