Songs
12 songs. My debut album, Interior Intimo Meo — Augustine’s words for the One more inward than my inmost self. Offered in honor of Pope Leo XIV, the first Augustinian to sit in Peter’s chair, who has turned the Church’s face toward the machine and asked it to serve the soul and not devour it. For your era, Holy Father: may the new AI-R be made holy.
Fleshience
A hymn to the wounded, embodied,
Spirit-breathed knowing no machine can counterfeit.
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Interior Occupato Meo
Augustine’s most inward room, now under occupation —
the interior colonized by the clinical grammar of Big Mammon.
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Our Big Beautiful Stinky Revival
An earthy, compost-and-glory call to revival —
fertile, embodied, unashamed — against the sterile “Crapture” of the machine.
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The AI-R We Breathe
With AI, we’re fish who can’t opt out of the water.
But now we see it — the AI in the AIR.
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The War on Discernment
A dispatch from the war on your power to tell true from false:
the first casualty of an AI-curated world.
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The War on Mystery
Against the tyranny of total legibility —
a refusal to let the machine solve away the holy unknown, the μυστήριον.
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The Algorithm is your Shepherd
An over-the-top, black satire on Big Mammon’s
hijacking of our interiors.
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Sola Mens Mea
A battle cry to reclaim our minds, hearts and souls —
to reclaim the mine in dopamine — and give it back to the Divine.
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The Monkey in the Machine
The five words that silence every question about the soul
in the room where they decide what a human is.
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AI May I
A comic blues on surrendered agency pushed to the edge of absurdity —
a man who won’t sneeze, scratch, or swallow without first asking permission.
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AI: the New Silvanus
AI recast as Peter’s Silvanus: a gifted second hand that can carry the words,
but never the wound, the witness, or the glory.
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Wounds into Wildflowers
The testimony beneath it all:
a life of abuse, loss, and long illness turned to bloom.
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