Category Archives: General

COVIDing

Sickness-induced insult to grief-stricken injury, Andy and I have finally been officially visited by the COVID fairy, lending this already-dismal month even more of a tainted pallor. I suppose it was only a matter of time before one, and then both, of us got it. Funerals of fathers are unavoidable events, and maybe the universe wanted me to be absolutely stilled to take it all in. As it was, I came down with the symptoms first, immediately testing and isolating upon being positive, which left me mostly secluded in the attic at a time when I really didn’t want to be far from Andy or family. Alas, life isn’t as merciful as we’d like it to always be, and I took the hours as they came, alternately reading more of Thich Nhat Hahn, watching the limp Amazon Prime line-up, and struggling through the work hours when my brain was scrambled on practically no-sleep. 

What I will remember of this hazy period of mourning I cannot predict, and what good it might be doing is equally unforeseeable. There was a moment when I was hurriedly making some ginger tea, and I was pouring it out into the cup and I accidentally poured it all over my hand, resulting in a brief burst of pain. Not quite boiling, it smarted and stung but thankfully left no serious burn. It was the emotional ache that hurt more – the feeling of being helpless and alone and missing my Dad while being exhausted, drained and sick. 

Physically, this is a nightmare – the fever and chills alternating with profound and immediate spells of sweating and overheating, pain of the muscles and joints and skin, labored breathing and a sore throat – none of which makes it anywhere near easy to sleep – so hours and entire nights go by in suspended unrest. The attic is fine for the kids, but for a middle-aged man accustomed to the comfort of our European-topped king bed, and the reassuring mound of Andy beside me, it was like being exiled. 

I text my friends a flurry of NyQuil-inspired messages – silly, nonsensical things of whatever comes into my mind, the way I used to do when I was out drinking and first leaning into that tipsy feeling of abandon, back in a time when I didn’t have to miss fathers or retail jobs, when we could rightfully enjoy youth’s indulged refusals of responsibility. We didn’t know what a luxury it was, or maybe we did, and being young made it ok to let it flit away. 

And so I sit here writing this all down, trying to forge this time into my head where not much sticks anymore, where not much even seems to matter, and it helps. It helps a little. 

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Recapping

For the first time in a very long time, I was actually looking forward to fall. This summer has not been that good on any front, and I found myself wishing that we could fast-forward to a few months from now. That’s the antithesis of being mindful and living in the moment, so I am trying to recalibrate and not wish any time away, no matter how sad or painful it may be. A look back at the last few weeks of posts (an overdue weekly recap) reveals where my head is at. 

A letter to my Dad.

Grieving.

Driving.

Breathing.

Hushed and still.

Walking.

Fluttering.

Visiting.

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Visiting

There are a few cardinals that frequent the trees and bushes around our home, but rarely do they alight on the Japanese umbrella pine nearest our front window. On this morning, one of them decided to give me a visit, then grant enough time to capture a few photos of its magnificence. It peered in at me, giving a little nod of its pointedly-tufted head. I want to believe it is more than a random visit, and if there is comfort in that then I may suspend my natural cynicism. Loss softens some brutal edges. 

Later in the morning  I am going through a pile of unused cards when I come across a birthday card meant for a father – I’d been keeping it for Dad’s birthday next month. Grief strikes quickly and sometimes unexpectedly, and in that way it can be debilitating. I remove the card from the pile and walk into the kitchen, preparing to throw it out, but I can’t bring myself to do that. Instead, I place it on the counter, saving it for a little bit later. 

When the first wave of sadness settles, I return to the card. A second wave arrives as I read what Dad would not have been able to read next month. Closing the card, I set it down beside me and cry a bit. Without rushing the pain away, or forcing the tears to stop, I allow the grief its moment to manifest. It passes. Neither the body nor the brain was designed to cry forever.

Looking back at the card, I decide not to throw it out. Maybe I’ll send it off for his birthday, just this one last year. Or maybe I’ll do it every year. For the past few birthdays, it was clear we were doing these things for our benefit – Dad never cared for birthday hubbub, and would have been more than happy to let the day pass without notice or fanfare. I don’t want to do that just yet, so the card goes back into the pile, and our tradition of marking the day shall continue. 

“Love and understanding are the lotuses that bloom from the mud of suffering. Without the mud, there is no lotus flower. The lotus needs mud to grow. Understanding and compassion are possible only when we’ve come in touch with suffering. 

We know that suffering plays an important role in generating understanding and love. So we do not run away from suffering, instead we embrace it, and look deeply into our suffering in order to understand it. If we can understand, then we can love. And when we have understanding and love, we suffer less.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

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Hushed & Still

There’s been a hushed reverence in these parts for the past couple of weeks. Entirely intentional, it’s my way of dealing with loss. Seeking out spaces of quiet and stillness, I find solace in these pockets of silence. When I began this blog two decades ago, it was originally designed to be a place of calm and peace. Even back then I was searching for some sort of escape from the cacophony of noise and distraction that the internet has mostly always been. 

Now with real life stepping in and pausing things here, I’m reminded of that original intention, and I find comfort in the relative peace of a reduced writing schedule – and no real schedule at all. An unexpected and surprisingly-valued summer break

On office days downtown, I slip into St. Mary’s church on my lunch break, to sit in the cool air and dim light – the hushed reverence is there in the middle of the day. In the last pew, I kneel and bring my hands together. I don’t always pray. Sometimes I do, but mostly I bow my head and try to commune silently with my Dad. My mind travels back to Sunday mornings when our family would sit together at mass, going through the motions, intoning our prayers and responses, not quite believing it and not quite disbelieving it. Dad was quiet about his faith, and it was clear he would have been just as happy staying home on those Sunday mornings, so I never quite got an accurate read on what he might have believed. It remains a mystery, and I’m ok with it staying so. A person’s faith is something intensely private, and fathers are often the most private people of all. 

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Breathing

Throughout the last week – one full week since my Dad died – every day has been different. The only constant has been my daily twenty minute meditation, and in this time I find the place to share a few moments with my father. My meditation has altered slightly. For the past four years a major part of it had focused on my Dad and his health. All of those issues went away when he departed, replaced by something I’m still trying to figure out. For now, it is a simple mantra inspired by Thich Nhat Hanh:

Breathing in, I know I am alive. 

Breathing out, I know my father is alive within me. 

The breath going in lasts about fifteen seconds. The breath going out lasts about twenty-five seconds. I run through this about ten times, and then the meditation moves on. It’s such a simple meditation, and in these days such simplicity is a comfort. Little steps and little motions in finding a way forward in a world where my Dad’s physical presence has ceased to manifest itself. 

I take short walks around the garden to find other moments of peace and calm and beauty.

Breathing in, I know I am alive. 

When I feel the sadness and sorrow creep in, I allow it room and space and time. Nodding at the pain, I try to smile through it, knowing that the pain is a sign of love. 

Breathing out, I know my father is alive within me. 

And so the past seven days have passed, in blurry bits alternating with moments of startling clarity and understanding. Through it all, I still feel my father’s presence, and it feels like we might be ok. At least, that’s what I tell myself, that’s what I strive to believe. 

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Grieving

Grief transforms different people in different ways. As I go through the process of dealing with the loss of my Dad, and accepting and dealing with everything that has changed, it will have to bleed into what gets posted here. This has always been a diary of sorts, and sometimes it helps to write things out here to get them off my chest, or just to formulate wording for what is happening in my head. It can be dangerous to keep such things inside, and over the years I’ve learned when to let things out, and how to do it in a manner that might be seen by others in this sort of public forum. There’s a certain relief in simply getting things out, and there are other reliefs that come with someone who reads it and relates, and in my own re-reading of it from an analytical/editing perspective. A form of self-therapy, there is value in a certain degree of self-analysis. And on some level, my grief, and the way I move through it, will be a testament and memory of my Dad himself. It keeps him around me, it keeps him present. I’m not ready to lose that just yet.

What will come out in the next few weeks and months will likely be messy and raw and entirely uncomfortable for some, including myself. I’ve never had to grieve like this before. I don’t know how long it will take, or how it will happen, or if this will all be as futile and silly as it sometimes feels right now. I do know that writing things down has always helped, and stopping that now might result in me stopping forever. An object in motion tends to stay in motion while an object at rest tends to stay at rest. Dad was never one to rest, and he passed that on to me. 

“No mud, no lotus. Both suffering and happiness are of an organic nature, which means they are both transitory; they are always changing. The flower, when it wilts, becomes the compost. The compost can help grow a flower again. Happiness is also organic and impermanent by nature. It can become suffering and suffering can become happiness again…

It is possible of course to get stuck in the “mud” of life. It’s easy enough to notice mud all over you at times. The hardest thing to practice is not allowing yourself to be overwhelmed by despair. When you’re overwhelmed by despair, all you can see is suffering everywhere you look. You feel as if the worst thing is happening to you. But we must remember that suffering is a kind of mud that we need in order to generate joy and happiness. Without suffering, there’s no happiness. So we shouldnt discriminate against the mud. We have to learn how to embrace and cradle our own suffering and the suffering of the world, with a lot of tenderness.” – Thich Nhat Hanh

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An Unexpected Summer Break

It feels too early for the morning fog that greeted me outside the door. That sort of thing usually comes later in the season – a not-so-happy harbinger of fall portending school and the end of fun. Yet there it was, stubborn and insistent and refusing to lift in the least. I drove to work through it, then watched as it waited outside the office window, sauntering along the Hudson River and obscuring anything beyond the immediate shore. For various reasons, I didn’t mind it. If this is the remainder of summer, it’s only fitting, and my heart’s simply not in it. When that happens, blog posts tend to sag, even when I’m not simply re-posting things from a decade ago when life felt so much easier. Rather than failing at thrilling anyone, this blog will be taking a hopefully-brief break for a few days – a smaller version of the full-summer breaks this site (and perhaps any hate-readers) once enjoyed. Let’s take this time to focus on summer, on family, on what really matters and what brings us joy. While I’m away, here are some links that may bring you summer fun from the past – random days and years and posts that kindle some of what summer best embodies. The season flies by all too quickly – get out there and hold onto it.

June 29, 2010 ~ Capture at the creek

July 29, 2010 ~ Meeting a childhood idol at his Chelsea penthouse

August 10, 2010 ~ Lulled by the ocean

June 11, 2011 ~ A pride post

July 2, 2011 ~ This used to be my playground

July 25, 2011 ~ Summer stalker: part of your world

August 5, 2011 ~ Camp crush

June 7, 2012 ~ The gay religious experience

July 26, 2012 ~ Turn up the radio

August 20, 2012 ~ David Beckham’s bulge

June 23, 2013 ~ Music for a darkened theater

July 15, 2013 ~ High summer recapping

August 29, 2013 ~ The majesty of the mount

September 2, 2013 ~ I hear the ticking of the clock

June 27, 2014 ~ Sweet scent of summer

July 25, 2014 ~ Family summer fun

August 12, 2014 ~ Your love is killing me

September 2, 2014 ~ A New York City birthday adventure begins

September 3, 2014 ~ Bathroom briefs

June 30, 2015 ~ Taming an unruly beast

July 15, 2015 ~ Peering over the edge of 40

August 24, 2015 ~ My 40th birthday

September 13, 2015 ~ An almost-secret garden in Boston

June 25, 2016 ~ The point of being pretty

July 2, 2016 ~ True blue for three decades

August 31, 2016 ~ All my August days

September 4, 2016 ~ A sea recedes

June 30, 2017 ~ The very last sunset

July 20, 2017 ~ We will be found

September 22, 2017 ~ Two friends on a perfect day

June 29, 2018 ~ A summer look-back before a break

August 30, 2018 ~ September’s coming soon

September 20, 2018 ~ Andante

June 30, 2019 ~ Saigon summer in Boston

July 13, 2019 ~ King of wishful thinking

August 26, 2019 ~ A love-letter to Betty Lynn Buckley

September 1, 2019 ~ September summer nakedness

June 20, 2020 ~ Summer begins

June 21, 2020 ~ The 2nd night of summer

July 15, 2020 ~ Summer evening by Tom Ford

August 27, 2020 ~ A king signals the slipping of summer

June 22, 2021 ~ A good day for Dad

July 23, 2021 ~ An anniversary letter to my husband

August 30, 2021 ~ Two decades of working for the state of New York

September 21, 2021 ~ A summer that wasn’t quite…

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A Repost of an Achievement

Ten years ago I was getting ten million hits a month here. There are nowhere near that many hits these days, and that’s the way it should be. Life evolves. Focuses shift. Attention-spans dwindle. So here’s a look back ten years ago today:

10 Million… and the Hits Keep Coming – {Originally posted July 30, 2023.}

The stats of www.ALANILAGAN.com are not something with which I concern myself all that much. As you can see, I don’t sell advertising, I don’t make a living off this site, and if I wanted to I could shut this whole thing down tomorrow and be all right with it. When I began this endeavor over ten years ago (personal websites age more quickly than dogs, or even gay men) I did it for myself – as a repository of some written work and photographs (and Projects). To this day, that’s still what it encompasses.

When I got back from vacation, however, I glanced through the stats, and noticed that this site has enjoyed a banner month. Unlike most mainstream places, this corner of the web gets pretty much steady traffic regardless of season or day of the week (partly because there is a post – and usually three – every single day). In fact, on weekends and holidays, my traffic tends to increase. (This site is ridiculously banned from many work places, so I don’t enjoy the bump of workday boredom.) But it’s not something to which I’ve ever catered, with the possible exception of a naked hunk here or there. I hadn’t noticed how close we were to reaching a milestone until Sunday, when this little website reached ten million hits for the month of July. It’s far from a big number, but for a personal site it’s not that shabby.

For that, I have no one to thank but you – yes, you – the person reading this right now. Odds are we have not yet had the pleasure of meeting (I’ve only had the fortune to meet a few people from the online world), but please know that the simple fact of you visiting here means more than most of my closest friends sometimes mean (honestly, I could give you a long list of people I love dearly who won’t read a single word of this because they never come here). So for you, the ones reading this now, I offer my heartfelt thanks.

And though I don’t much like to look back, here’s a little retrospective of some of my favorite topics from the past – in honor of ten years of doing this, and a month of ten million hits. You’ll see the main themes of this site – and perhaps divine some new themes to come.

There’s nothing I love better than a properly crafted cocktail.

Unless it’s a properly cut pair of underwear.

Or my ass, which has fueled more hits than… oh, forget it. It’s written itself.

But it really comes down to family and friends, and there’s no denying that both have informed and inspired this site in ways that deepen and explore where I come from, and where I’d like to go. There’s no denying or separating them from me – and I wouldn’t have it any other way. (This includes my elusive husband Andy, who has only recently been more forthcoming about appearing in pictures, much to everyone’s delight.)

The role of beauty in the world is often underestimated. I see it in our gardens, and in the blooming of a flower. I hear it in a song, or listen to it in a musical, or taste it in the simple serving of a meal. It’s there in the fragrance someone wears, or the clothing on their back. Beauty is always around, if you know how to look for it.

Of course, special mention must be made of my main creative muse – still going strong after thirty years (would that this site lasts as long) – who is, and always will be, Madonna. From her epic songs to her lesser-known ones, long may she reign.

A multitude of thanks must also be extended to the naked men who keep this site going when I’m galavanting on vacation or in Boston or simply too lazy to come up with anything beyond shirtless guy candy, so here’s to The Hunks. (Especially those who dare to don a Speedo.)

Finally, if it weren’t for all the places I get to visit (Ogunquit, Boston, Cape Cod, Las Vegas, London, San Francisco, Washington), I wouldn’t have a chance to enjoy coming back here at the end of it all.

Here’s to us… and most especially, here’s to you. Let’s make the rest of the journey together.

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A Repost of a Recap

July’s Last Full Recap – {Originally posted July 29, 2013}

Being that it was the last full week of July, and I’m begrudgingly letting it go (although the 97 degree nonsense can be done), here is the recap for the previous week – one in which I was vacationing and relying on pre-programmed posts. Still, there were good things to be found for those who bothered to look. And now I’m back, resuming the battle, taking up the baton, and twirling like there’s no tomorrow.

Keeping things cool and hazy were cocktails like this magnificent yet simple limoncello concoction.

Nothing beats a summer salad for summer sustenance. Except perhaps a Sunday omelette.

Not one to let the other guys have all the fun, I took my clothes off too (it was 97 degrees after all). And again. And once more for the naysayers. Just to piss the bitches off.

True story: I used to hate lobster. And Fritos. And pizza!

And it wouldn’t be summer without Madonna, who vowed to ‘Die Another Day‘, and proved it by being around for thirty years since her first single. And she still doesn’t give a…

Many thanks to Tom Ford, who prepared things brilliantly for my birthday next month.

Yet for all of last week, I was in absentia, and happier than hell about it. I have never, in my dozen-years-plus of working for the state of New York, taken a whole week off. And I can’t believe I waited so long.

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A Repost from July 26, 2013

Ten years ago we were celebrating David Beckham here – witness that post:

David Beckham Strips Off Shirt, Sprays Cologne ~ {Originally posted July 26m 2013}

As much as I love David Beckham, I’ve never been into any of his products. His underwear proved a bit of a boring let-down, and I have yet to try one of his colognes. (If it stands beside the Brut display at CVS, you’ve already lost me.) Does his new commercial touting a new cologne change anything? Not really. But it’s nice to see him without a shirt again.

{There was also a lucky lavender post that day.}

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A Week of Reposts, Starting Now

In keeping with the 20th anniversary of this blog, I’m looking back with a week or so of re-posts from whatever was posted exactly ten years ago. This works double-duty as I’m going offline for a bit, and illustrates how far I’ve come (or have yet to go). I will also add some links to show how some things have very much changed. Here’s the first one, posted exactly ten years ago today:

Things I Used to Hate, But Grew To Love ~ {Originally posted July 25, 2013}

It’s almost Friday, I’m finishing up a vacation, and I have nothing left as far as creative juices go, so we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel and making a little list. If you have anything you’d like to add, well, let me know on FaceBook or Twitter, or show me on Instagram, and maybe I’ll do a follow-up. In the meantime, here is my little list of Things I Used to Hate, but Grew To Love:

* Lobster

* Fritos

* Pizza (yes, I used to hate pizza as a kid!)

* Meatloaf

* Blue cheese

* Alcohol

* The color teal (I blame an old set of kitchen cabinets)

* Dress shoes

* Ties

* Black and white movies

(I don’t dare do a list of Things I Used to Love, But Grew to Hate – some of you are probably on it.)

{Also on this date ten years ago: this gratuitous Ben Cohen post.}

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Summer Teasing

Summer teases and summer takes away – and this summer has brought much of each with the crazy weather we’ve had and the rise of the results of global warming (yeah, it’s real, get over it and do something). The weather app is largely useless – telling me it will rain and storm only to have hot and sunny weather, or, much worse, telling me it will be lovely out only to end in a deluge of rain and wind. Sometimes the storms come up out of nowhere, wreak havoc (like a two inch waterfall in ten minutes) then disappear as if they were never there – except for the flooding that remains. We live in meteorologically tumultuous times. 

The lesson I’ve gleaned from this is to take any sunny moment as it comes, and embrace and appreciate it. Gratitude can be had and found from minute to minute. As someone who is accustomed to, and enjoys, planning and preparation, this can be a difficult lesson to learn. That means it’s a valuable one

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Posts Lighter & Fewer Between

Posts may be lighter in the coming days, as focus turns to family and other items, such as summer itself. During previous years I’ve taken the entire summer off from blogging, but as that left me feeling slightly unmoored, I returned to the daily format for my own Virgo-like love of a regimented schedule. When the world around you begins to crumble, a little structure can be a very good thing.

That said, there is something lovely about a lighter posting schedule, and lighter posts themselves. Too often I get bogged down in the weeds here, sometimes just because I can. When no one calls you out on run-on sentences or indulgent photo shoots, you get accustomed to the luxury. Summer is a good time to streamline and edit, and just step away from the laptop for a spell. To that end, I’ll finish up this post and let you carry on with your own summering for the season.

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Artist Profile: Julian Abramo

The term ‘musical prodigy’ probably gets thrown around more than it merits, but in the case of Julian Abramo it is absolutely fitting, and still just barely captures his reservoir of talent and creative drive. At just 14 years old, he’s already released an album of original music (the glorious ‘My Bedroom‘ which somehow manages to transcend his short collection of years on this earth in scope and resonance) and started a website to capture his work

I’ve had the privilege of knowing Julian since he was born, and watching him grow into a young person from a distance (and periodic summer visits) has been a joy. It’s also been an eye-opening experience where I continue to be impressed and astounded by how he lives so completely within the realm of music – playing, composing, listening and writing all flow from his creative vision. Such artistry is beautifully embodied by his first collection of songs, which finds his original compositions performed entirely by himself on piano, keyboard, and cello ~ even employing an old organ for one piece. 

Such talent may be genetic, as he comes from two musically-gifted professors: my friends Missy and Joe. We go back many years, and lifelong friends are the best kind of friends. While they have focused on the academic aspects of music, Julian has thus far expressed his talents through performance and composition. It’s been apparent and a part of his life since before he started walking. I remember his parents telling me about how he was responding to sound and creating sound – with tapping and singing – and as he got older and better able to express himself, that inner call to a life of music got louder. 

From a very young age, Julian was performing and involved in music in ways that most adults would find challenging. Having seen firsthand how he can take a piece of music and elevate it beyond what it was, I remain in awe of his musical prowess, and the way he hears things that so many of us simply can’t. The hidden talent of many amazing musicians is the ability to listen – it’s more than just hearing a song over and over; it’s absorbing and taking in a very specific and particular cadence of notes and sounds, of aurally sensing the texture and architecture of a piece, of feeling the intent and emotion behind a musical work. More than that, it’s about how to craft a work in a world where everyone thinks we’ve heard it all before. Just when you are being lulled into the languid piano meanderings of ‘A good day’, the dissonant chords of ‘I’m bored so I watch the sunrise’ creep in to challenge and lend tension to the proceedings. 

‘My Bedroom’ has many such moments, conveying the undulating moods of life through a fourteen-year-old’s windows and walls, somehow capturing what he feels and hears and sees, then transmitting them through musical ruminations both beautiful and moving. Each song becomes something meaningful in myriad ways to different listeners, which is the wonder and magic of well-crafted music.

Julian’s own notes on the tracks of ‘My Bedroom’ are below. Listen/stream the album here, and check out all of his media links here

1. walking outside
This piece is great to kick off the album. It creates a happy, exciting, and friendly feel. It feels welcoming and sweet. The peaceful energy to this piece makes it feel as if you are walking outside on a green day. As exciting and complex as this piece sounds, it only uses one instrument, the Cello. Played by pizzicato, staccato rhythms, and legato melody and harmony lines, the cello can create a wonderful piece alone.

2. a good day
Similar to the previous piece, this one has a happy, and bright feel to it. It gives off a positive energy. The rhythmic, major piano lines give this piece energy and enthusiasm. The higher, more lighter parts give this piece character, in a way to show how it is important to appreciate the good days we have, because you never know when, or how much we get them.

3. pure city
There is nothing like a wonderful day in the city. Seeing all different kinds of people, looking at amazing buildings, and so much more. There is something in the air. Something pure, and loveful. This piano
piece represents the pureful, peaceful air in the city.

4. i’m bored so i watch the sunrise
Boredom is something that can be extremely frustrating. Not knowing what to do gets me all wound up. If I’m bored, and up early, sometimes I’ll look out my window next to my bed, and slowly watch the sunrise come to life. With patience and an open mind, it’s something so beautiful to see. The colors
slowly lighting as day starts once again. The birds come out and sing to one another. This piece represents the slow growth of the sunrise. It’s something to admire, and something to experience.

5. saturday morning
Waking up on a weekend morning to a bright sun beaming through the windows is a relaxing thought. It’s just you, in your room, not having to go anywhere. There’s a loneliness to it, but in a positive way. This piece shows that feeling of being alone, peacefully.

6. i wish to daydream
Stimulation around us can make us feel stressed, and overwhelmed. Sometimes, I wish that I could just stop, and take my mind elsewhere. In this piece, It makes you daydream, zone out, and think about your own thoughts that your brain takes you.

7. our story
There are many different people you meet in your life. Some are good, some are bad. Some
are good at first, but then it goes downhill. Whatever it may be, you share a story with them. Whether it’s over, or it is still in the making, there’s always that story or memory with you and that person. For me, this piece represents a friendly, loving story. The far away piano makes me feel lonely, but also
happy. But that doesn’t matter. It is up to you to make it feel like your own story.

8. my own party
It feels that life has a set of rules and expectations. Whether it may be how you dress, how much money you have, the color of your skin, who you love; the list goes on. It can be extremely hard to follow the rules. In this piece, I wanted to set up my own party, where I make the rules, not listening to anyone else. This piece gives a feeling of isolation, and dread. It shows how people can feel in today’s society.

9. the past’s future
I saw an old pump organ in the corner of my grandma’s den, and I wanted to check it out. It was extremely out of tune, and it made a lot of creaks, but to me, that made it even better. After years of this instrument in silence, I brang it to life. The creaks, accidentals, and out of tune notes give this piece an old feel, but also very futuristic at the same time, almost like it’s the past’s future.

10. a peaceful dream
Dreams are something so fascinating, and so unreal. No one knows what they really are. Dreams are always weird stories that never make sense. This piece creates a dreamy atmosphere, with the pitch bends, old style chord progressions, and nostalgia.

11. a distant memory
Memories. A powerful and important thing we all have. It is what shapes the purpose of our lives. Whether negative or positive, there is always beautifulness in the memories we collect. However, sometimes our brains get fogged up. We end up losing the memories we wish we could get back. Sometimes these lost memories are still partly alive. We can still remember a piece of it, just enough to keep us holding onto it. These memories are a full story that is waiting to be told, or perhaps they’re missing pages in a book. This piece represents the distant memories we partly have.

12. sunlight at midnight
Picture yourself alone in a huge cathedral with high ceilings that touch the sky. The beautiful artwork and architecture fills the room with magic. A stained glass window is shining in all different colors. In the front of the room, a huge choir is performing a peaceful, magical piece. Even though it is dark, the enchantment lights up the room. This piece is a great way to end the album in remembrance. I hope you enjoyed this album.

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