have this funny thing that keeps happening as I get older. I keep thinking I’m going to understand more. And in some ways, I do. I understand how to make a song a little better. I understand how to get through a hard week. I understand that most things are not as dramatic as they feel in the moment, and that coffee helps almost everything.

Wonder is out today. This song started with a simple idea: what happens when you’ve convinced yourself that maybe the magic is gone? Sometimes life gets predictable. Things don’t turn out the way you expected. You start putting parts of yourself on a shelf and quietly assuming the best chapters may already be behind you. And then something changes. …

Some songs show up like little messages from somewhere else. Never Stop started with a simple phrase that would not leave me alone: Never stop. Never drop. It felt less like a lyric and more like something a friend might say when they know you are tired, overwhelmed, or quietly carrying more than anyone realizes. This song is about those strange thoughts that appear out of nowhere.

What started in a parking lot has become a year-round downtown market built by vendors, volunteers, community partners, and a stubborn belief that Pullman needs this. I’m writing this as one of the people who has had the privilege, and occasional exhaustion, of helping carry Pullman Market on Main through its first year. This is not a victory lap. It is more of a thank-you note, a field report, and an invitation.

People see a room full of vendors, bags of fresh market finds, kids negotiating for cookies like tiny CEOs, and 300 to 350 neighbors cycling through the doors, and they assume the market is a tidy little money-maker. It is not. This is a post about the real math behind building a small-town market, why board members have spent thousands out of their own pockets to keep it moving, and why the most important truth is also the least romantic one: love can start a market, but love alone cannot run it every week forever.

Entrepreneurship has taught me a lot. But if I had to boil it down to one lesson I wish I’d learned earlier (and re-learned fewer times), it’s this: Choose your partners wisely. Not your vendors, your logo designer, or even your accountant. Your partners. The people who have access, influence, and proximity to the thing you’re building. Because here’s what nobody tells you loud enough:

A new indie-dance / dream-pop single about longing, loops, and the person you keep seeing even when you’re trying to wake up.

Pullman has done and will continue to do the “one big event” thing. We can absolutely keep doing it. But if we’re serious about becoming a place people choose on purpose, we need something different. We need a rhythm. Yesterday, Feb 14, we had another strong Pullman Market on Main. More vendors, familiar faces, new faces and proof that this is not a one off idea, it’s becoming part of the town’s heartbeat.

There’s a specific kind of silence that shows up after the party. Not “everyone went to bed” silence. The other one. The room still feels warm. The bass is still in the walls. There’s confetti in places that make no sense. And you’re standing there in that post-everything glow realizing you’re the only one left with the thoughts still playing.

Pullman Market on Main is open Saturdays, 10am–3pm, at 300 E Main St. That sentence sounds simple. It’s not. Because the real opportunity here isn’t just “a place to shop.” It’s a place to test, learn, and launch. And if we do this right, Pullman Market on Main becomes a true entrepreneurship center for Pullman: a friendly, low-risk place where people can try an idea in public, get feedback fast, and either build momentum or pivot before they sink months (and a scary amount of money) into the wrong version.