hey i'm eddie.

i'm from texas

but i left_.

(here's how that one goes)

once upon a time, i grew up playing guitar (& doing other things) w my super (as in unstoppable!) filipina-chinese-german mom & stoic/cool long-haired gringo dad...

... in dallas, texas. my mom was kind of a 1st generation backpacker (the pre-LP kind!), and my dad's dad dreamed of taking my pops & i fishing around the world, so i spent a lot of my youth traveling overseas + cultivating vast dreams of 'getting out of here' (anywhere/everywhere). i also wrote (mostly poetry but also music), did lots of karate (it was the 80s!), and (later) performed around North Texas in experimental/space rock-ish bands. i feel like i was a good kid, and i was very, very lucky & grateful.

When I was 19, I left the country & spent about 4 amazing (but trying!) years living, traveling, & working my way across Latin America, and the experience marked me in ways that are--and probably always will be--really difficult to articulate. I keep trying, though...

I think the short of it is that traveling put things in focus for me. it rejuvenated me & helped me become a better person, a harder worker, a more thoughtful writer, a more independent thinker, and a (wayyy!) worse guitar player (I stopped playing for more than four years!). I owe a lot of who I am today--as a person and a writer--to that period of my life, when all I had for miles + miles was myself.

Townes Van Zandt (+ this one night at the Boathouse) changed my life.

As best as I can describe it, I think living so far from home at the age that I was (late teens & early twenties) and in the way that I did (mostly alone & without many resources) changed me so fundamentally that, when I finally did come back to Texas, everything seemed new--as if I'd never really 'been' here at all.

 

I hit the road (the Interstate, this time!) as soon as I could and ended up in far southwest Texas, where a strange and fateful twist of events landed me in Terlingua Ghost Town. I listened in awe to a young desperado in a low-slung cowboy hat play Townes Van Zandt at the Boathouse and my world changed in an instant.

 

 

(even though we lived in dallas, we still couldnt shake the gypsy out of us) we lived in 11 houses in 10 years.

in 2013, after 6 years of running RR 10 hours a day, 6 days a week (or something like that!), i finally decided to call it quits. paola & i & our kids flew down to brazil 

 

 

I write because I have to. It's a process that completes me and allows me to reconcile my thoughts. It builds me. I think it's the closest that I can come to being totally alone. Attempting to recreate that experience--by driving down some lonely highway, spending the night in some strange hotel room, or just sitting at a bar, alone, or on some quiet street early in the morning--creates a peace with myself that I desperately crave, but there is no place as quiet or as peaceful as the place I go when I am making something real.