I am not a Machine!




Remembering the Pause

NOA & Joy




February 9, 2018

Some people get very uncomfortable when I tell them I am working on a project about grieving, and about the importance of it for our individual and collective health. And honestly, I’ve been surprised at how challenging its been to get some of those folks I consider most dear to me on board. Yes, folks are busy and distracted. Yes, folks have a million other things to contribute to. Yes, people are over-inundated on the web. Yes, people are struggling financially. And yes, this project is absolutely not going to be for everyone. But also, the feedback I’ve gotten is that people are uncomfortable with the concept. I take that as a good sign—as a sign that the project is doing work, getting some to squirm a little, indicating spots of vulnerability. But I’d like to think about how this project might support folks in leaning into, rather than away from, that vulnerability. And so, I’d like to spend a few moments to focus on a different aspect of NOA that might help folks ease into its concept of grieving more easily, namely, its relationship to JOY.



It is about how that primal cry from the gut that we feel when we lose something we love dearly is inextricable from that primal laughter that makes our abs hurt when we are overcome with joy. It is about the moment and our trust in it. It is about taking risks to be with ourselves..."


Work-cation in Chicago


Work-cation in Chicago

November 18, 2017

Lillian Walker

Hello world!



Taylor and I just wrapped up a big work weekend at her apartment in Chicago, and it felt amazing. If you have the ability to do so, proactively making time and finding a productive space to focus on one project and one project alone is something everyone should try to do.


We cleared our schedules, got distractions out of the way, and got cozy. We ate together, went on walks together, we even slept in the same bed, and we got shit DONE.










Written from the Floor (the context of NOA)

Context of NOA Pt. 1: Music Written from the Floor

October 28, 2017

Taylor Rogers

About 14 months ago I ended a four year domestic relationship with my best friend.



I have been gay my whole life, but unwilling to accept this truth for fear of letting go of certain dreams that I had, or that I thought I had, having been conditioned by a southern culture of family values. Like many of my childhood friends, I wanted to be married to a man, have some dogs, have some babies, buy a house, the whole shebang. The decision to end the relationship was hard for a variety of reasons, but the ensuing grief of losing this person who had been such a foundation to my sense of belongingness and home, a partner in my musical journey, and an integral part of my sense of a future, two weeks before Trump's election, was devastating. Having family and friends, other primary sources of home and belonging, question the decision I had made, be skeptical of my sexual identity ("But you were with men for so long, are you SURE you're gay?!"),  be concerned about my ability to be mentally well, and feel estranged from me given what I was sharing, compounded my sense of fear and isolation. What the hell had I just done?


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