
This site doesn’t have a grand story behind it. I didn’t build it to change the world or hand out life advice like fortune cookies. Frog Tales and Slug Trails exists because my brain never really stops running, and I needed somewhere quieter than social media to drop the thoughts, projects, and half-formed ideas that clutter up my head.
It’s a mix of everything I care about: creative experiments, half-finished art, strange little opinions, and the occasional success worth remembering. Some posts might read like journal entries; others are just snapshots of what I’ve been working on or thinking through. None of it’s filtered through; I am not smiling all the time or motivational sprinkles at anyone. It’s life as it actually happens—unpolished, curious, and trying to stay interesting.
I built this space as a kind of digital workshop. Some corners are tidy, others are covered in paint splatter, and I like it that way. I post what I make, what I think, and sometimes what I can’t figure out. It’s a record of process more than product—a reminder that creativity is just as much about what doesn’t work as what does.
There’s no content calendar or master plan. I write when I want to say something, and I photograph my work when I want to remember how it looked before I inevitably changed it again. Some weeks this place might grow wild with updates; other times it’ll sit quietly, waiting for me to come back with something new to throw into the mix.
I use it to track progress, collect ideas, and make sense of whatever phase I’m in—artist, accountant, parent, person. It’s both a scrapbook and a notebook, part chaos, part catalog.
If you’re here, expect honesty, a little mess, and the occasional flash of something thoughtful that happened by accident. There’s no moral to every post, no grand narrative arc. Just a running collection of the things that make up a life: the work, the words, and the in-between moments that never get enough credit.
There’s no algorithm to please, no theme to maintain—just a place to collect the proof that I exist and that I’m trying to make something out of it.