Beth Chapleau

Graphic designer, web nerd and general design geek.

One time I was in Portland on tour, an early morning before I was about to leave for home and I walked into a bagel shop. You were there, not in person, but your record was playing. The sleepy, baby cute hippie kid behind the counter was singing along to you, quiet just like you, and he knew every word. There was another raggedy girl cleaning up tables behind me, and she was singing too. Then this other kid came into the shop, and waited in line, and he was singing – as if on cue, a little off key, but almost in harmony. Pretty soon, so was I. But we were all in our own private worlds, our voices barely audible, singing only for ourselves. Were you singing for yourself? I hope so. I hope that you could love your music like it was loved by everyone else.
Margaret Cho
Depressing isn’t a word I would use to describe my music. But there is some sadness in it — there has to be, so that the happiness in it will matter.
Elliott Smith
I notice that Autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature.
Friedrich Nietzsche  (via petitekatie)
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