welcome to my digital garden
hi. I'm alicia. writer, creator, communications specialist.
I release occasional dispatches on my public notebook/newsletter {{reverberations}}, chat with internet pals about movies on the Title TK podcast, and participate in VEDS every September on my YouTube channel.
this site is a holding ground, a central repository. here you'll find my own writing & creative work as well as links to tools and resources. I'm interested in learning what it means to be an artist/creator, how we can build better communities, and how to nurture a self-care/self-keeping practice. embrace the sprawling web of pages. explore the garden. get on board with the inconsistent lowercase aesthetic.
you'll find personal/site updates below (and in the archive).
got questions? comments? just want to say hi? please get in touch! (seriously, I've gotten some utterly lovely emails that just made my day. thank you.)
updates
doomed love
after a week's hiatus, I am back with another monday video.
I wrote so many variations of some of these verses, you may as well imagine me surrounded by crumpled-up balls of paper. quite pleased with the final result, though 😊
while I'm here, I'd like to thank everyone who's left comments about my songs. y'all are the best. it is hugely encouraging and gives me the warm fuzzies to read them. one of my goals in the coming weeks is to create a home for my songs here on the site. if it's august and I haven't done that yet, bug me about it!
with gratitude,
a.
P.S. one of my favourite bands, Lawrence, just released a new single: "Don't Lose Sight." the video is rad; check it out! I love their sound, their style, and this song is a surefire cure if you've got a case of the Mondays.
castle bird
just listen. see what story your mind creates around the words. is it the same as the one I imagined? I wonder. listen first to remain unspoiled:
it surely comes as no surprise that I am a lyricist first, musician second. no matter what it is—song, poem, or story—my creative writing starts with a seedling. a small, growing thing. I say seedling rather than seed, because sometimes the seeds stay locked away in a drawer or scattered on the earth. but once a thing has begun to grow, I can tend to it. observe:
don't come any closer, stay where you are
I can't see what is right in front of me...
the key pieces are there: the melody, the rhythm, most of the words. a mental image is starting to form. then things shift as I find words for the chorus:
don't be afraid, little bird
you can still fly...
the phrase "little bird" lodged itself in my brain back in march thanks to a song by Sports Team, which was on repeat for days.
suddenly I could see a castle. a princess singing to the bird outside her window. I knew the princess had been there a long time. in my mind, I could see her downstairs at a ball—beautiful, eternally young. an object. she couldn't remember anything different. there was only a small window with a glimpse of sky, and a bird who was free to fly away.
the bird takes pity on her, I think. or perhaps it is startled when the thing sitting so still in the window reaches out to it.
I've build songs before around a specific image: a light on a mountain, a ship out at sea. this time, none of that imagery really made it onto the page. instead, it informed the shape of the song, its tone, its mood. the song was the spell I cast to bring the tale to life.
if you're interested in more fairy tales, I read several back at the start of the pandemic. I remember their darkness well.
be free, little birds,
a.