I have so much gratitude for the overwhelming weekend of support that you gave us as we opened for Langhorne Slim earlier this month. Hello to our new fans. We will be recording soon. Video clips going up soon. Stuff is coming, I promise you that. For now, I just posted a set of photos from Art Heffron Photography taken during night two at the Bluebird Theater. PICS.  Bye for now.

Steve

I've been fortunate to have several discussions with a war vet recently. Doesn't matter what war. They all suck. All of them. I spent the afternoon writing music and this guy comes in with violence I can't even imagine fresh on his mind like it happened that morning. He's at peace, but it's there, it happened. You can't expect anyone to be the same after that. If they reach some kind of normalcy, fantastic. Many don't. Until we realize what a cycle war is, I sincerely hope I meet vets occasionally, out in normal life. That means they made it out and they are trying to navigate life as they once knew it. They are coming off of the biggest life-and-death adrenaline rush of their lives and now they're out getting groceries. That is hard. That has been on my mind.

As you were, boys
There's no more need for this 
Terrible noise
Or any white knuckled fist

We all act like it's nothing we've seen before

Now tie yourself down
It's what you've been bleeding for
Here's your life now
All that you need and more
Build a tunnel 
From whatever you call this
To the middle
Of something like happiness

We all act like it's nothing we've seen before

In the search for something encompassing of the way I feel as a musician and a person, Denver artist and friend Scott McCormick and I landed on the totem object of baseball. To me it signifies childhood and simplicity, and holding on to something that achieves beauty out of being so perfectly uncomplicated. Less pretentiously, it also represents a duality at the core of myself. I was the jock in marching band. I led the saxophone section and then ran off to baseball practice. I'm the guy looking for a pool hall out on tour. 

Realities of what life can actually be like catch up with all of us. I encourage you to hold onto something - in a good way - while it all happens. Kid Reverie isn't some egotistical name I have given myself. It is the moniker I have given to those moments, even later in life, when you can achieve a childish wonderment about something, anything. You get lost in it. That's Kid Reverie. 

My friend Greg said the name Kid Reverie makes him think of Kid Rock. I really hope it doesn't make you think of Kid Rock. 

There's no more bad breaks here than any other place
Just far too few real gentlemen in a race without a stake
Can I run faster than you?

I love this song. I learn the songs I love. Here's my version:

I love entering NPR's Tiny Desk Contest every year. I hope you like my song and my desk.
 

I just wanted you to read one of my favorite poems: 

​Walking on Tiptoe - Ted Kooser 

Long ago we quit lifting our heels  
like the others—horse, dog, and tiger—  
though we thrill to their speed  
as they flee. Even the mouse  
bearing the great weight of a nugget  
of dog food is enviably graceful.  
There is little spring to our walk,  
we are so burdened with responsibility,  
all of the disciplinary actions  
that have fallen to us, the punishments,  
the killings, and all with our feet  
bound stiff in the skins of the conquered.  
But sometimes, in the early hours,  
we can feel what it must have been like  
to be one of them, up on our toes,  
stealing past doors where others are sleeping,  
and suddenly able to see in the dark.

Starting something new scares the hell out of me. It's that sinking feeling that used to only come from being absolutely certain that there was a monster under your bed. It's there, just waiting for you to fall asleep. And yet, if you're tired enough, you forget about the monster, and then you wake up, put your warm feet on the floor, and you don't even think once about that mysterious something reaching out and grabbing you from under the frame because the daylight makes you forget that you were terrified the night before, that you were certain something wanted you in pain, that something wanted you gone, and all you could do is clench your little fists and put an impenetrable blanket between your quickening breaths and the being you created out of nothing because our eyes don't work in the dark and one day we realize that we aren't comfortable not knowing everything so the physically unknown in the gap between the floor and your mattress unleashes more potential than your mind is ready to deal with...

and then you fall asleep.