Folklore (T.swift)
Folklore (T.swift)
Stars drawn around scars. A cardigan that still bears the scent of loss twenty years later.
Battleships sinking into the ocean, down, down, down. The tree swing in the woods of
my childhood. Hushed tones of “let’s run away” and never doing it. The sun-drenched
month of August sipped away like a bottle of wine. A mirrored disco ball hovering above
a dance floor. A whiskey bottle beckoning. Hands held through plastic. A single thread
that, for better or for worse, ties you to your fate.
Pretty soon these images in my head grew faces or names and became characters. I found
folklore
myself not only writing my own stories, but also writing about or from the perspective of
people I’ve never met, people I’ve known, or those I wish I hadn’t. An exiled man
walking the bluffs of a land that isn’t his own, wondering how it all went so terribly,
terribly wrong. An embittered tormentor showing up at the funeral of his fallen object of
obsession. A seventeen-year-old standing on a porch, learning to apologize. Lovestruck
kids wandering up and down the evergreen High Line. My grandfather, Dean,
landing at Guadalcanal in 1942. A misfit widow getting gleeful revenge on the town
that cast her out. Taylor Alison Swift
A tale that becomes folklore is passed down and whispered around. Sometimes even sung
about. The lines between fantasy and reality blur and the boundaries between truth and
fiction become almost indiscernible. Speculation, over time, becomes fact: myths, ghost
stories, and fables.
Fairytales and parables. Gossip and legend. Someone’s secrets are written in the sky for
all to behold.
In isolation, my imagination has run wild and this album is the result, a collection of
songs and stories that flowed like a stream of consciousness. Picking up a pen was my
way of escaping into fantasy, history, and memory. I’ve told these stories to the best of
my ability with all the love, wonder, and whimsy they deserve.