Katie Armstrong

bless this mess

Oh man, I remember when we fell.

Black lives matter.

On and on and on.

I tried recording this about twenty times, each time I hollered so loud in certain parts of the song that it overwhelmed my little microphone and caused pretty terrible peaking.  I attempted to hold back in this final recording, but it was no use. Some things are just meant to be sung with gusto. 

The first boy I ever loved was Leron Taylor. This morning I awoke to an email informing me that Leron died, quite suddenly, yesterday afternoon. He was an infinitely warm, gentle human being, an utter goofball. Silly and loving and kind to everyone he knew. These are pictures I took in high school, when we were dating. The year was 2005.  How can this beautiful human be gone? He was only 27 years old.

Written and recorded early this morning before getting out of bed.

It doesn't do. 

A little song sketch from my first day back in Berlin.

Sometimes, when you're on the cusp of moving to a different country for an indeterminate amount of time, the only thing to do is have one of your dearest pals draw on your wrist, then head to a tattoo parlor to make it permanent.  I love you, Darnell Snyder Witt!

Springtime Valentine. 

If you have five-and-a-half minutes, a pair of headphones, and you can't think of anything better to do, I would be honored for you to watch this thing that I made. Interlude spent some time living in gallery spaces, but now it's time for her to live in the wilderness of the interwebs. 

Allowing myself a moment to freak out over the review that Peter Plagens wrote for The Wall Street Journal about my show at BravinLee.