I’ve been releasing acoustic versions of new songs every few weeks since December and let another one out this evening. It’s called “The Tree You Named After Me” and is yet another collaboration with teenage pop phenom Noah Daniel Wood on guitar & David Appaloosa (from Portland indiepop boyband The Hugs) recording and quick mixing the whole thing for us.

Have a listen:

Click the album cover below to download “The Tree You Named After Me” from Logan Lynn’s “Everything You Touch Turns To Gold” for zero dollars on Bandcamp!

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post – 1/25/2012)

I grew up in a house without pets and never had any animal friends, so I didn’t know that I liked them until I was an adult. When I was in my early 20s I met a small Australian Border Collie named Isabel. She was a ginger like me and took to me right off the bat. I was resistant to her love at first, as I had grown up thinking dogs were dirty and smelly and ate their own poop (which they sometimes are and generally do). Isabel peed on my brand-new, silver, Prada sneakers the first time we met, so it was a rocky start, but she was persistent, and she adored me to no end. Eventually, the feeling was mutual, and I relished how easy it was to interact with another living being on such a basic level. I didn’t mind how dirty and smelly she was because she was such a good listener. I could tell she really was glad I was there when we were hanging out, and she didn’t want anything from me other than for me to spend time with her. We were kindred spirits (aside from the dirty, smelly bit), but Isabel was not my dog, and when I moved out of the house I was staying at with her human, we didn’t see much of each other again.

A few years later, another close friend got a hamster-sized teacup Pomeranian puppy named Dutch (who was also a ginger beast), but my friend was traveling a lot, and this new baby was a particular brand of high maintenance that wasn’t a great fit for her. When he was just 3 months old, he was kidnapped from the front yard by neighbor kids, and it took nearly three weeks for a private investigator to locate him. Whatever happened to him during this experience left the poor dear a bit fearful and needy, which I could really relate to at the time, so I offered myself up as the official dogsitter and brought him home with me.

I had never been around such a tiny creature before. He was so quiet and sweet. All this dog wanted to do was be held and reassured that everything was fine now, which I was happy to do for him. In some way I am sure I was doing this for us both, or we for each other. Our bond was strong and fast, and when my friend came home from her travels, I had a long talk with her about how her newborn dog and I had fallen in love and probably needed to just stay together. I said I would be happy to keep him for her if she was still feeling stressed about his needs. I think she could tell that I also had needs in the moment, namely something to look after, love, and be loved by. After much consideration she agreed that, with all the travel, it might be better for him to stay with me. I burst into tears and thanked her, my heart suddenly unbroken. Dutch spent the night with her that evening, and the next day he came to stay with me permanently.

I was living in a place that didn’t allow dogs back then, but I figured that because he never made a sound, it would be fine. Of course, I was wrong. The little devil found his voice while I was at work one day just after his first birthday, and my landlord busted me for having him. We moved out shortly thereafter, into a place where he could be free to speak when he wanted, and where I didn’t have to smuggle him out to do his business three times a day. This place had a yard, and he was so happy there. I spent hours upon hours watching him run around in circles amongst the trees. He was so energetic at that age, and I was thrilled that I had suddenly been thrust into motherhood. He went everywhere with me, and it was the first time in my life that I felt like I had a purpose, something to get out of bed for in the morning. Keeping this cute thing happy and alive kept me feeling happy and alive, and I promised Dutch (and myself) that from that moment on, nothing bad was going to happen to him again.

In 2005 my world fell apart, and I relapsed into a Read the rest of this entry »

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post – 1/17/2012)

In keeping with the theme of love, family, and relationship from my last post, I reached out to some famous friends to see what their thoughts were on the subject.

Singer/songwriter Matt Alber, filmmaker and photographer Bruce LaBruce, actor and musician Daniela Sea (from Showtime‘s The L Word), TV personality and activist Danny Roberts (from MTV‘s Real World: New Orleans), drag superstar and electrosleeze pioneer Jackie Beat, composer and singer Holcombe Waller, and “Charlie” Swimwear designer Matthew Zink all weighed in on the same five questions:

1. If you could sum up your concept of “relationships” in one word, what would it be?

2. What is your favorite love song of all time?

3. If you could choose any actor to play you in the movie version of your life, who would it be? What about them is you?

4. How has the relationship between your mother and father influenced your ideas about love and relationships?

5. What three qualities do you look for in a partner?

Here come their answers! (Drum roll please…) Read the rest of this entry »

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post – 1/10/2012)

I spent my 20s in complete solitude. Even when I was in relationship or around friends, I was impossible to reach and might as well have been by myself. It was a decade spent mostly alone, and I think there were many times when I felt like this was just how life was going to play out. I watched as my little brother married his high-school sweetheart, and in the 10 years since, I’ve had the great pleasure of holding their babies as they joined us in the world. Loving these beautiful creatures has in many ways made my own as-of-yet-unrealized dream of building a family an easier pill to swallow — but I have always hoped that some great love would make its way to me, as well.

In October 2010, after spending the better part of two years in single-man lockdown mode recovering from a long-winded, ugly breakup, I went to celebrate my 31st birthday with my dear friend at a local Portland patisserie. We sat and chatted about life for a while, and then I noticed this man walk through the door and sit at a table just to the right of the dessert counter. He was wearing a tight, white, v-neck t-shirt, and I found myself unable to stop staring at him. It may have been his big arms, his dark chest hair, his thick-framed Dita glasses, his pretty face — I’m not sure — but something clicked in that moment.

At one point my friend stepped out to take a call, and I took that as my cue to undress him with my mind and get down to fantasy business. (I’m not a sex maniac, but I had sworn off men and had been celibate for over a year, and my fantasy life had become both really involved and easily accessible during that time). So I imagined us getting freaky on the dessert counter until my friend’s return jolted me back to my sad, clothed, birthday reality. From across the room, I kept hearing my pretend boyfriend laughing this enormous, joyful, shameless laugh with his friend, and I tried not to stare. As we were leaving, I pointed out my exotic find to my friend and said, “I gotta get me one like that,” which, in retrospect, is a bit crass and actually isn’t all that romantic-sounding, but I figure the story’s no good if I don’t just tell it like it happened, and that’s how it happened. It may not have been poetry, but it came from a very real place.

Over the next two months I thought about this mystery man a lot, which was not a common thing for me to do when it came to random people from coffee shops whom I had never spoken to. Often, the thoughts were naked ones, but sometimes they were not. At times I was awake when he was there; other times he would appear in my dreams. What had happened to me there amongst the candy and cakes? I couldn’t figure out if I had been possessed or if I was just really horny from swearing off sex. Maybe I just needed to get manhandled on a dessert counter somewhere. Either way, I hoped I would run into him again and promised myself that I would speak to him if I did.

One afternoon in early December I looked up from my desk at Portland’s Q Center, and there he was, standing in the door of my office Read the rest of this entry »