Birds of Prey...

"Oh, what's up with this falcon?" - Me.

I was out with friends at a sporting event, soccer, or football, whatever you call it, to be specific. I am not a huge sports guy, but I am always excited for people that are. Although I may have no idea what is going on, who scored, or what the rules of the game are, I am excited that it brings everyone around me such joy. Plus being in an arena, surrounded by passionate people, is hypnotizing. The second you step into this type of atmosphere you become apart of it. I have no idea how soccer is played, but I wanted whoever we were cheering for to win.

We found our seats and settled in before the match started. I found out it is called a match, not a game. I felt the energy pick up, and everyone started pointing. I began to look around to see what was going on, and before I knew it, a falcon was being released and flying throughout the stadium. "What the hell kind of sport is this?" I thought to myself. But, I was all in. Falcons are badass. Being from Philadelphia, I am cool with almost any bird of prey. Go birds! The game started and the place lit up. You couldn't help but get on your feet and cheer. Cheer for what? I have no idea, but I found myself just wanting to be a part of the action. Without knowing any of the rules of the match, I decided that going along with whatever cheer everyone else was doing would be the best course of action.

After a little bit, it was definitely time to grab a few beers. My friend told me that sometimes they have the falcon out and about to meet and greets during the game. That was all I needed to hear. I was already going to get up and go grab beers, but now I had the chance to meet a falcon. Done. I gave a quick thumbs up to my friend, and they knew I wasn't coming back until I found that falcon...and a beer.

I wondered around the area aimlessly for what felt like forever. I found a beer and drank it. Then I rounded another corner and nothing. Where could this damn thing be? I rounded one more corner and heard children in awe. I turned and looked to see it, there she was. Mission accomplished. I pushed the kids out of the way, met the animal handler and had my chance to hang out with this falcon. I came to watch the game, but left with so much more.

The photo above is proof that dreams come true.

-YourFriendMatt

Personal Photographer...

"You are really shitty at this." - Jamie.

I suck at taking great photos of my wife. The only reason I know this is because she has told me many times. She is fearless with her feedback and critiques. I need to work on lining things up the way she envisioned it, as well as my use of the rule of thirds. I also take forever to take a photo. We will have everything lined up, and I wait until I think I have found the perfect moment where she is smiling, or not, at the right time. I believe there is an art to the pause, but she seems to disagree. I honestly don't think I am that bad at it, but whenever I take a shot I think is tasteful, she reassures me I am awful at it, especially when it comes to taking great photos of her.

Recently we were out for a sunny Sunday lunch. We gassed up our old VW van, Big Red II, and took a drive south along the coast until we got hungry. Typically we like to stick to pub food and happy hours on our weekend days off together. Brews and pub food keeps the day easy. You know what you are getting. We get such little time together we like to keep it comfortable with a burger and fries. We found a brewery on the water. What else could you ask for? Craft brews and lunch overlooking the Pacific sounds incredible, so we grabbed a round of beers and found some seats on one of the brewery's outside patios. It's time to take in the sun.

After the alcohol hit the bloodstream, it was time to bust out the iPhones and start snapping photos. It's like clockwork. We suddenly find ourselves to be portrait photographers the instant we get a buzz. As if we were photographers all along, but were caged by our sober alternate personalities. "The sun is giving off some perfect lighting right now." Jamie said, "And don't take forever, just take the god damn picture." Classic me, always taking forever to take a photo. This is strike one. Jamie held up her beer and smiled. Like usual, I paused and then took the picture. Strike two. "Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you? You have to get better at this, I love you, but get your shit together." Jamie told me. I tried again and failed miserably, taking a blurry photo of the table as the phone fell out of my hand clanking down. Everyone looked over at us as Jamie turned to me and said, "You're a moron, you know that?" Strike three. I love my wife.

We continued about our day, got another round of beers, and forgot all about how I dropped her iPhone on the table causing a scene. We moved on, and I took another billion photos of her sitting in a chair holding her beer and grinning ear to ear while she moved her head around, tried different poses, and maneuvering facial features. My wife can be the shyest woman I know or the most photogenic person I have met. It all depends on the blood alcohol level, and at the perfect amount, she can strut a runway.

-YourFriendMatt

Grandmom...

"Why are you crying?" - Me.

Over the years we have put a lot of miles on our second-hand, black, '00 Eddie Bauer Edition, Ford Expedition. Grandmom, as we called her, has taken us across the country multiple times. She has gotten us up and down the mountains in Colorado and guided us through deserts in Nevada, Texas, and California. We have been through the Great Plains together. Grandmom has made it through more National Parks than I can remember, down alleyways she could barely fit through, been parallel parked in spaces that mathematically didn't make sense, all while hauling our small enclosed trailer. Grandmom has been packed with musical equipment, as well as accidentally passing through a close-set movie filming. Grandmom does what Grandmom wants. We were just there for the ride.

Since moving back to Santa Monica, the old girl has been sitting for over a year collecting parking tickets. It is unfair for us to keep her stationary. Grandmom is a road-dog. She needs to get back out there to explore. She needs to stretch her legs and adventure. She has done a lot for us, and now it is time to pass her on to the next adventurer who can get her back on the road. We will miss you old girl.

It was not an easy decision to put Grandmom up for sale. The mean streets of Santa Monica and the greed of the city have put us in the tough position of downsizing. Santa Monica and the greater LA area makes it impossible for anyone to park on any street, at any time. Grandmom was getting parking tickets weekly on our residential street. We were spending more on her just sitting there than we had in the past 5 years on repairs, gas, and traveling across the country.

We never thought we would get this upset over selling an inanimate object. I was actually quite happy to post her "for sale" ad on Craiglist. I was fueled by the hate of paying never-ending parking tickets, but once someone actually responded to make a cash offer, the sale of Grandmom became real. At first, I was glad to get rid of her, but when I cleaned her out for the last time coming across nicknacks that had been lodged under the seats from the different hotels we had stayed at, or various gas stations we filled up at, it hit me. This was the end of our time together. As we drove to drop her off to her next owner, I was fighting back the tears. An overwhelming wave of gratefulness and guilt washed over me. It didn't help that Jamie was sprawled across the foldable-bench-seating in the rear bawling, I mean really ugly crying. Full on moans and sadness poured out of her, she was inconsolable. And, so was I - on the inside.

Handing over her title and signing over our liability of Grandmom was tough. My ears were hot, and my throat had swollen shut. It took everything in me not to cry. I patted her on the hood on last time and quietly whispered my thank yous to her for all she had done for us. She had essentially protected my family like it was her own. She had made sure we always got to our destination safely. I am glad we spent the last few years together, and I hope I treated you as well as you treated us.

Take care of your new owners like you took care of us, and I look forward to seeing you soon in auto-heaven.

Thank you, Grandmom.

-YourFriendMatt

Tattoos on a Sunday...

"I can't say it feels good." - Me.

I have a bunch of tattoos. Some of them have a special meaning and others simply do not. One that has absolutely no meaning at all is the sandwich I have tattooed on my thigh. I guess what it really means is I love hoagies (east-coast word for sandwich) from Wawa (gas station/grocery store/coffee shop/incredible) and I love where I come from. I have met people who have tattoos that remind them of their children or deceased relatives. I have met people who have portraits on their chest and other sentimental notions that have such depth it makes you want to cry. I have also met people who got a tattoo of a hotdog because they were drunk and wanted a tattoo of a hotdog. I think the thing to remember is that tattoos mean something different to everyone.

Jamie and I have both been tattooed but never got tattooed at the same time. It has been a while since either of us has gotten any new permanently inked onto our bodies so we figured we were do. We did some research, but kept coming up blank for an artist or shop that we really thought was a perfect match for our style, or lack thereof. Finding the right shop and artist is hard.

I was at our local market a few weeks back and ran into an old friend. He had just got a few new tattoos and they looked awesome. They had vivid colors and that specific attention to detail that you want in a tattoo. He recommended his artist and shop. Boom. Just like that, we were in business. I got home and couldn't wait to tell Jamie that I had found us a shop that our friend recommended and that I like his work. We drove down to check out the shop immediately and before we knew it we had appointments.

Getting tattoos sucks. It stings. Don't let anyone tell you that it is an enjoyable experience, they are lying. The enjoyable experience is when it is over and you get a drink. The other enjoyable high comes when it’s done healing and you have an incredible piece of artwork that you carry with you everywhere you go. I love my tattoos and I can't remember what my body looked like without them.

This marks Jamie's second tattoo and she got her inner forearm done. She rules. Such a badass move. I thought she would be done in minutes because she was getting some very small and fine line-work but those thin lines come at a price, and that price is time. Mine, on the other hand, took about an hour and it's double the size of hers. I kept my traditional sailor style theme going and plan to keep it going until I barely have any skin left.

When you are younger, I feel everyone tells you to think long and hard about getting tattoos and that they won't be acceptable or you won't get a job. Those people are knuckleheads. They think mayo is spicy. If you feel like getting a friggin tattoo, do it. I don't regret any of mine and I bet you won't either.

-YourFriendMatt

Grannie...

"I got a letter? Who the shit mails a letter anymore?" - Me.

I use to think my grandma hated me. Who knows, maybe she does. I am the son of the family's black sheep. It seemed like no matter what I did it was never good enough. There always seemed to be an issue or an off-centered comment in all of our interactions. It only seemed to get worse as time went on.

My grandma, my father's mother, was dealt a tough hand. She lived in an orphanage in Philadelphia, was eventually adopted and got married. That marriage ended in divorce, which was a way bigger deal then than it is now. This left her alone with too many children and a household to manage. I met my biological grandpa twice in my life, and I remember him being a dick anyway. So, reflecting on it now, I can see why she was miserable; or at least seemed to be. She did eventually re-marry to a wonderful man who I consider to be my real grandfather regardless if we are related by blood or not. RIP Marvin.

Throughout life, even if it was a birthday, graduation, or life event, it always seemed to be one step forward and two steps back with her. She would wish me a happy birthday and in the next breath tell me to go back to school and my car needed to be washed. All our conversations seem to hover at a 30,000-foot level. No matter what I could not seem to break through and connect with her. It did not help that later in life she did let me use her house to start a production company. We were essentially rent free, but there were a few rules. I could not party or drink there. What did I do? I partied and drank there. I was 23. What did I expect from myself? We did accomplish work, and grew our business, but that was a moot point. No matter how I tried to explain it to her, it was irrelevant. She found a beer bottle. I broke the rule. I was out. Business. Over.

A few years went by and I moved all over the country, took my career more seriously, and gained some more life experience. I reflected on my relationship with her. A few years back, I decided to start calling her more often - all my family actually - to make sure I was doing my best to remove any roadblocks that could prevent our relationship from growing. The first few calls were awkward - terrible in fact. She would wonder what I wanted, if I was asking for money, or if I needed her help with no return on investment. I ensured her all I wanted to do was talk and check in.

It took a while to regain trust and show her that I was no longer a 23-year-old moron. Our calls have gotten more pleasant, and this past week I received a handwritten letter from her. We have turned a new leaf! I could not believe it. I was in shock and excited. Getting something in the mail from Amazon is one thing, but getting a handwritten letter is something completely different. I set it aside and made time to read it without distraction. A personalized letter is special. She informed me about how she was doing, how her friends are and wished me and Jamie well.

I am writing her back now and using a typewriter to do it. I want her to have a personalized message from me. A text can be ignored, an email can be deleted, but a typed or handwritten document is personal. I am glad she and I are on better terms. It took a while, but we did it.

Love ya, grandma.

-YourFreindMatt

Dude, where's your putter?

"Welp. Shit." - Me.

It was a perfect day off. I was going to meet two of my friends for golf, the weather is beautiful. Our dryer is still broken so the pressure to accomplish all the laundry that is piling up fell out of sight and out of mind. I mean, I can't finish the laundry if I can't dry it, right? The sun is out, the warm morning breeze of summer is blowing through Santa Monica and I had nothing to do but hit the links with the boys. What else could I ask for?

Well, they both canceled on me last minute. I was pissed. This was supposed to be a beautiful mid-week break from work to hang and have some guy time, but no, one of them had to get food poisoning and the other had to go to the doctors, my friends are so inconsiderate. How dare they not consult me before making other plans to tend to their health? I decided to go anyway and play solo, it'll still be a great time.

I pulled into the public golf course and got ready to go. The bag was loaded up, sunblock on, and had a few snacks and beverages. Time to play. I teed off and was feeling great about the start to my day, who needs those guys anyway. I pulled up to the green and went looking for my putter. "Oh, shit, I knew I forgot something" I rambled to myself. As it turns out I had recently used my putter for a thrilling game of indoor-putter-return in my living room a few nights before. My putter now rests in the corner of my kitchen, nowhere near the first hole of this game. Shit.

What am I to do? Go back and rent a putter? Hell no. I can't admit I am a moron. I am going to figure this out and play this round the way the powers that be wanted me to, without a putter. Maybe it was a sign I should work on my chipping technique. Either way, I am not turning back now.

It wasn't my worst round ever, but definitely, one that I won't forget. I used my driver, my 3 and my 9 all as putters for the day. Other folks on the course occasionally looked over at me like I was out of my mind. Plus, I even managed to feed a squirrel. All in all, incredible day on the course. Any day out playing golf beats even your best day at work.

My new friend - Rancho Park Golf Course -Los Angeles, CA

-YourFriendMatt

Be my Valentine...

"Ah, shit! Burnt myself again!" - Me.

Sometimes, I cook. I am a very lucky man. I married a talented and beautiful woman who loves to cook. What else could a guy ask for? I am not completely helpless in the kitchen, but over they years my skills have gotten a little rusty with Jamie preparing most our meals. I have my culinary staples and tend to default to them when I run out of good ideas, or more importantly time. I can make a vegan chili like its nobody's business and my pancakes are second to none. Ask Jamie, she has given up on trying to make pancakes as good as mine in our household. It's just a fact, I can make pancakes, but she can make everything else better than me. It's a gentle balance in the Force.

That being said, this is just one example of how lucky I am to have a wife like mine. And, this is just an even longer way to tell her I wish her a Happy Valentine's Day and I am so in love with her. Even if Valentine's Day is a Hallmark holiday rooted in ancient Roman bloodshed and Pagan history, I love my wife. She puts up with all the stupid crap I do. She puts up with me acting like a jerk when I don't get my way and she still loves me at the end of the day.

Jamie - Thank you for all you do for us and for putting up with me. I love you and I am so proud and excited to be your husband. Here's to many more, I can't imagine going through this life without you.

Let's get burritos tonight.

-YourFriendMatt

Lost Sock...

I set numerous goals for myself this past year and have accomplished most of them. I got married, graduated from college, got back into running routinely, worked on restoring our beloved VW Vanagon, did a cross-country road trip, I played music regularly, and continued challenge myself creatively. I am a very lucky individual and do not take what I have for granted. I have appreciated 2018, even when things looked grim, and boy, did some grim things happen this year.

One of the last projects I wanted to accomplish before closing out the year was releasing a short (very short) film. Attached here is a footage from a day off I had with our dogs, Piper and Penelope, when we lived in Nashville. When I finish errands early, exercise, and run out of laundry to do,I find myself getting antsy. Jamie hates it, but I am not really a ‘sit on the couch and relax’ kind of guy. So I decided to take my trusty iPhone, a tripod, and my actors (Piper and Penelope) and come up with something creative for us to do. This short is the end result.

The whole video is less than 2 minutes to watch, but took me way longer to find the footage and edit all the goofy sounds in.

Things can always get worse, count your blessings (or whatever you believe in), and let’s leave this place better than we found it in 2019 (and forever)...and always remember to have fun!

Thank you for taking time for us today.

Please feel free to leave feedback, thoughts, and comments! -

-YourFriendMatt

Friday 6-Pack...

It’s Friday and I am free as a bird. We have some new We The Kings, Muncie Girls, and Restorations!  This weeks list is a little all over the place, but sometimes that the way life is. This week marks the start of the last Vans Warped Tour, and although I am not able to attend I did look through the lineup. I was a little unimpressed. I figured the team would try to pull out all the stops and get some old heavy hitters like Blink 182, Descendents, or even try to get bands back together to play a few songs, but that is not looking like the case. 

I did see that We The Kings was scheduled to play and found out they are still putting out music, and honestly, it still holds up. Their new single 'On My Love' delivers the catchy, pop-punk choruses we would come to expect from the band. Muncie Girls and Restorations have quickly become some of my favorites over the last few years and I am glad to see they are thriving. We also have tracks from Never Home, a raw one from Roseview, and a trippy one from another one of my longtime favorites and my hometown heroes, Vacationer! Check it out on Apple Music!

Music saves.

Listen, enjoy, and share!

-YourFriendMatt

Pops...

Dad,

Thanks. I can not thank you enough for your constant support and for making me feel like I can accomplish anything. Thanks for allowing us always to play music as loud as we wanted. The continuous noise would have driven me insane, but you told us to keep playing. You have taught me that I should not take all things too seriously, to live in the moment. Thanks for providing the tools and knowledge that have allowed me to make things happen. Thanks for showing me that I needed to work hard for anything in life. This drive is something that has shaped who I am and has helped me get around the world. You are not perfect, but I know you always gave it your best shot, even when you had no idea what you were doing. Thanks for showing me compassion, peace, and love.

I love you, man.

-Matt

Thanks, Mom...

Mom,

Thanks for allowing me to be me, challenging me to do better, and holding me accountable when I was a complete idiot. I did not know it at the time, but you were doing your best to make sure I would grow up to be a good man. I thought you were being mean by making me do my homework immediately when I got home from school. I thought you were just a tyrant when you gave us a curfew. I thought it was ridiculous how we would have to finish a list of chores before we could do anything or go out with our friends, but now I appreciate it. 

I hope you have a relaxing and enjoyable Mother's Day. We wish we could be there to help you celebrate. We look forward to seeing you in a few weeks!

Love you and have a great day!

-Matt

November 18th, 2013

On this day four years ago, Jamie and I left everything we knew about the comforts of home, living with parents, and hit the road for Los Angeles. We drove through the early morning, hit one of the worst storms we had ever seen that pushed our SUV and trailer off the road, and finally ended up in Nashville, TN. This was the first stop on our first cross-country trip together. The next few days tested our relationship, forced us to think as a team and left us with memories we will never forget. 

If you would have told me on that morning that we would both advance our careers, move to Nashville, get engaged, buy a home, and then move back to Los Angeles before 2018; I honestly don't know what I would have said. Maybe I would have said "Hell yeah!" Who knows. 

Nashville now holds an extraordinary place in our hearts. This is where we bought our first house that we turned into a home. During that first stay in 2013, we hit a storm that delayed our drive for hours and we were in terrible spirits when we finally got to the city. The second we got out of the SUV, our moods changed. We heard the music, saw the lights of downtown and wanted to be apart of it. We had a blast "honky-tonkin" and hitting all the bars up and down Broadway.

Here is to reflecting, learning, and loving.

-YourFriendMatt

Our home for the next week - November 17th, 2013

Had to take off the trailer so we could park - Not fun

No idea.

When in Nashville...

The Don Kelley Band @ Robert's - Best band in Nashville - Had no idea this would become our local bar 3 years later when we moved in a few blocks away.

Moving...again...

So we are hitting the road again, back to California. In the last four years, we have made three major moves across the country. It is starting to become standard. We are just used to keeping it simple and downsizing. This time around as we are packing it is becoming easier to get rid of unnecessary items, clothes, kitchen supplies, etc. The staff at Buffalo Exchange here in Nashville is probably getting tired of me hauling boxes and boxes of old band t-shirts.

Moving is always bittersweet. We look forward to getting back to Santa Monica, the beach, fish tacos, our friends there and riding our bikes to work, but leaving is always hard. We are fortunate and always find AMAZING people wherever we go, and leaving people is hard. We know we will see them all again, but it does suck. We have had a blast finding new restaurants with our friends here, having BBQ pizza cook-offs with our neighbors (who we love dearly), and sharing so many porch beers. 

Nashville is where I bought my first home and took some significant steps in my adult life. This is where I decided to make Jamie my (future) wife and where we pushed our careers. Nashville continued to push Jamie and me to work together as a team. When we first got here, we did not know a soul and that kind of pressure can make or break a relationship, but we only got stronger. We will miss everyone here. Thank you to anyone who was kind to us, shared their lives with us and treated us like family. We love you.

-YourFriendMatt

Zombie Wenches From Hell V...

The fifth installment is here. 

Over the last 5 years Chris and I, including any friends and family we could convince, have been putting together these short, campy zombie films. Although we were 3,000 miles away from each other this year we kept the story going. Watch. Enjoy. And thank you!

-YourFriendMatt

Spring cleaning...

It only took 4 months but we finally threw our Christmas Tree out. I don't think it fits...where's that saw...

YourFriendMatt