Monday morning unfolded just like any other. I was sitting down with my coffee, working through the familiar shuffle—emails, the morning feeds, a quick scan of social media. It’s a quiet rhythm, pretty much the exact same routine I’ve kept since long before I started jotting down these notes to myself back in 2006. Back then, I never really assumed anyone else was reading them anyway. And back then, we called these things “Blogs.”
If you’re curious about where that word even came from, it’s a funny piece of internet history:
- 1997 (“Weblog”): Jorn Barger, an early online pioneer running Robot Wisdom, coined “weblog” in December 1997 to describe his process of literally logging the web as he curated links.
- 1999 (“Blog”): Programmer Peter Merholz playfully split the word into “we blog” on his site’s sidebar in the spring of 1999.
- 1999 (Noun & Verb): Pyra Labs launched Blogger that August, cementing “blog” as both the place you write and the act of writing itself.
While the specific characters and sites I follow have shifted over the decades, the daily routine itself feels practically carved in stone.
That morning, I was reading through my friend Gary Myers’ site, RedTree Times, specifically a piece titled A Look Back– Exiles: Cain. Something about it hit close to home. He opened the post with a striking line from Albert Camus:
“From the moment that man believes neither in God nor in immortal life, he becomes ‘responsible for everything alive, for everything that, born of suffering, is condemned to suffer from life.’ It is he, and he alone, who must discover law and order. Then the time of exile begins, the endless search for justification, the aimless nostalgia, the most painful, the most heartbreaking question, that of the heart which asks itself: where can I feel at home?” — Albert Camus, The Rebel (1951)
Just the week before, another Camus quote had sparked an idea for a song I put together using Gemini and Suno (I wrote about that process over on melancholy ain’t the same as being sad. Seeing this new passage, I couldn’t resist taking another run at it.
My usual method of madness is pretty simple: bounce the quote through AI to shape the core lyrics, play my standard game of tweaking lines, drop them into Suno with a sound profile in mind, listen to what comes back, and repeat until something clicks.
This time was different. The lyrics came together right out of the gate with a genuine emotional weight. I already had a clear sound in my head, so the initial style prompt almost wrote itself. As usual, Suno generated two takes. The second version played, and within thirty seconds I knew it was the one—no extra tweaks needed. I hit download on the MP3.
I fired off an email to Gary with the audio attached to share what his post had inspired and asked for his thoughts. I also asked if he’d mind me using his painting as the cover art for the track. With his blessing sitting in my inbox, I spent the next few hours pulling together a simple video to match the mood of the music.
Here is how it turned out:ail archive) I then went to work pulling together a simple video for the song. A few hours later this was the result…
Exile’s Door
(Verse 1)
The altar’s bare, the heavens cleared away
No hand to guide the closing of the day
When every god steps down into the dust
We inherit all the pain and all the trust
There’s no one left to answer for the tears
No sacred name to swallow up our fears
Just you and me beneath an open sky
Learning what it means to clarify
(Chorus)
And the time of exile opens like a door
Searching for a home on a shifting floor
With a heart that asks the quiet, heavy air
Where is a place to rest this weight we bear?
In a world we build with broken hands and bone
We are responsible for all we’ve ever known
(Verse 2)
Every fragile thing that breathes the morning light
Is born to suffer through the fading night
No divine decree to write our wrongs
No distant choir singing ancient songs
We draw the lines, we carve the law in stone
Standing in the crowded dark alone
Trying to justify the breath we take
For every promise that we have to make
(Chorus)
And the time of exile opens like a door
Searching for a home on a shifting floor
With a heart that asks the quiet, heavy air
Where is a place to rest this weight we bear?
In a world we build with broken hands and bone
We are responsible for all we’ve ever known
(Bridge)
It’s an aimless nostalgia for a place we never knew
A ghost of comfort running through the blue
The most heartbreaking question at the core:
Is this wandering all we're living for?
Or can we build a hearth out of the cold
And hold each other close as we grow old?
(Guitar Solo / Instrumental)
(Chorus)
And the time of exile opens like a door
Searching for a home on a shifting floor
With a heart that asks the quiet, heavy air
Where is a place to rest this weight we bear?
In a world we build with broken hands and bone
We are responsible for all we’ve ever known
(Outro)
Where can I feel at home?
Where can I feel at home?
No gods above, no shelter in the dome
Just the love we make...
Right here in the unknown.
If you would like to check out more of my AI song collaborations you can find them here…
