🧱
My dad is a musician and plays many instruments including the flute—he worships Ian Anderson; he and his late best friend Tom were Jethro Tull’s number one fans. I called them Jethro Dull. I was 4 or 5.
I remember being at Tom’s house sitting at the top of what felt like an endless staircase that went up to his loft—I was so tiny—watching them below and listening as they played this album on vinyl, just wondering when we could go home already. I wish I could go back to that moment. This song will always be imprinted on my soul.
Really don't mind if you sit this one out
My word's but a whisper your deafness a shout
I may make you feel but I can't make you think
Your sperm's in the gutter your love's in the sink
So you ride yourselves over the fields
And you make all your animal deals
And your wise men don't know how it feels
To be thick as a brick
And the sandcastle virtues are all swept away
In the tidal destruction the moral melee
The elastic retreat rings the close of play
As the last wave uncovers the newfangled way
But your new shoes are worn at the heels
And your suntan does rapidly peel
And your wise men don't know how it feels
To be thick as a brick
And the love that I feel is so far away:
I'm a bad dream that I just had today
And you shake your head
And said it's a shame
Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth
Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth
Spin me down the long ages, let them sing the song
Feb 21, 2025
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I LOVE Jethro Tull. I have more of an appreciation for ‘em now than growing up. My Dad wasn’t a *musician* musician, but he did help me learn how to play guitar. Nursie, Life Is A Long Song, and Mother Goose are the songs that were ingrained into my brain as a kid, I miss those days a lot I think
Feb 21, 2025
softshelled I’m about to listen to this song and get soooo sentimental. They are definitely really hard to appreciate as a child I remember thinking like why are their songs sooo long lol. Their Christmas album rocks!!!!
Feb 22, 2025
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As the verses unfold
And your soul suffers the long day
And the twelve o'clock gloom spins the room
You struggle on your way
Well, don't you sigh, don't you cry
Lick the dust from your eye
Life's a long song
Life's a long song
Life's a long song
We will meet in the sweet light of our dawn
Apr 18, 2025
🎧
But I remember you, you had a body
You had hands and arms and legs and et cetera
Did I fail? Did I fall?
(In the morning when I wake up, are you mine?)
Did I waste my time, waste my time on a broken heart?
(Take the trash out like a bad dream, are you gone?)
Or is this the start of the great silence?
(From the old house, the fiercest heart spoke, are you mine?)
Is this the start of every day?
(Christmas tree's dead, you know how time flies, are you gone?)
...
So descend into cliché
If the music has forsaken you
Roll the stone over the grave
I never liked that one anyways
Or stare into the face
Of whatever it is that's facing you
And if the levee breaks
You'll find out what it is that's replacing you
And when the mirror breaks
I wouldn't miss it for the world
Call it blackstar
Call it painstar
The same thing happens when you touch it
Did they tell you what happens when you touch it?
Did they tell you what happens when you touch it?
Did they tell you
Did they tell me
What happened to you?
...
For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror;
Then we shall see face to face.
Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known
And now these two remain
...
Jan 24, 2024
🎧
You're scared of a world where you're needed
So you never made nice with the locals
But you tied me up slow with your vine, stuck
It takes a few years, but they break bones
It takes a few months, but our bones heal
…
And I know
You're tired
Well, I'm tired too
Oh, that every time I try to make lunch
For anyone else, in my head
I end up dreaming of you
And you come to me
Good morning
Show me the place where he inserted the blade
I'll praise the lord, burn my house
I get lost, I freak out
You come home, hold me tight
As if it never happened at all
Good morning
Show me the fifth of the cadence you want me to play
Good morning
Show me where to tie the other end of this chain
Jan 25, 2024
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My dad teases me about how when I was a little kid, my favorite thing to do when I was on the landline phone with somebody—be it a relative or one of my best friends—was to breathlessly describe the things that were in my bedroom so that they could have a mental picture of everything I loved and chose to surround myself with, and where I sat at that moment in time. Perfectly Imperfect reminds me of that so thanks for always listening and for sharing with me too 💌
Feb 23, 2025
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I’ve been thinking about how much of social media is centered around curating our self-image. When selfies first became popular, they were dismissed as vain and vapid—a critique often rooted in misogyny—but now, the way we craft our online selves feels more like creating monuments.
We try to signal our individuality, hoping to be seen and understood, but ironically, I think this widens the gap between how others perceive us and who we really are. Instead of fostering connection, it can invite projection and misinterpretation—preconceived notions, prefab labels, and stereotypes. Worse, individuality has become branded and commodified, reducing our identities to products for others to consume.
On most platforms, validation often comes from how well you can curate and present your image—selfies, aesthetic branding, and lifestyle content tend to dominate. High engagement is tied to visibility, not necessarily depth or substance. But I think spaces like PI.FYI show that there’s another way: where connection is built on shared ideas, tastes, and interests rather than surface-level content. It’s refreshing to be part of a community that values thoughts over optics.
By sharing so few images of myself, I’ve found that it gives others room to focus on my ideas and voice. When I do share an image, it feels intentional—something that contributes to the story I want to tell rather than defining it. Sharing less allows me to express who I am beyond appearance.
For women, especially, sharing less can be a radical act in a world where the default is to objectify ourselves. It resists the pressure to center appearance, focusing instead on what truly matters: our thoughts, voices, and authenticity. I’ve posted a handful of pictures of myself in 2,500 posts because I care more about showing who I am than how I look.
In trying to be seen, are we making it harder for others to truly know us? It’s a question worth considering.
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