More new noise!

Last week I built my first contact mic (tutorial to come later, I hope), and since then I’ve been recording anything and everything I can get my hands on. I finished two songs over the weekend with my new toy, and I’m excited to share them.

The first is “The Trees Themselves Are Marching,” a rhythmic noise piece that’s sourced from a small tree in my front yard. It was lots of fun learning how to “play” the tree, finding the different sounds I could get out of it, and how to find a (mostly) consistent beat.

The second song, “Ride ‘Round Back,” is a 30-minute noisy drone piece that I sourced from my bicycle (a sweet, single-speed Schwinn cruiser) and some feedback (the contact mic allows for some really cool feedback).

I hope you listen and enjoy. I’m having a blast with this stuff. So many ideas for future works!

Stories to be told, but not yet

There’s something powerful about sharing our stories and speaking from experience. About releasing what, until moments ago, was an unspoken secret. To let it go. To take it out into the open and inspect it.

Brian Gerald Murphy

I have a story to be told. It’s one of pain and determination and fear and abuse and, at the time, love, though I have a hard time believing that now. It’s a story of being trapped, of being powerless in the worst way. A story of constant threat, of being used. It’s a story of trying to save someone who was trying to destroy me. It’s a story of hope destroyed, of humiliation and of wounds that just haven’t fully healed, and probably never will.

It’s a story that’s pivotal in my becoming who I am. It’s a story that shaped how I relate to others. It’s a story that, in some ways, moved my queerness from theoretical to actual.

I hope I can share that story one day, openly. But for now it’s too frightening, both to revisit those days in my heart and to open myself up to the barbs of those who will judge me for it.

It’s a story I don’t want anymore. It’s a story I want to let go.


I must quote liberally from Anarchist Reverend here. Despite the changes we’ve been through being different in content, his words could be mine, almost down to the timeline.

And now it’s been 4 ½ years. My life is unrecognizable now from what it was then. I have entered into a future that I couldn’t even have dreamt of.

It is so, so beautiful.

I have dealt with the pain of my divorce but recovered a self-confidence that I didn’t know was possible. I have faced down my fears and come out so much stronger… I have the (complicated) love of my family.

I move through the world in a body that feels like home for the first time.

This is what resurrection feels like: The terror of night that gives way to the joy of the morning. Faded scars and so much joy. New life and new love. Peace. Overall, so much peace.

Thanks be to God.