Dear, Rocco I have found your poems today through s friend on tiktok and I would like to thank you for them I have never been much of a poetry fan but you have opened ny mind to them I really enjoy them and the little bit of your music I have heard. All and all you have motivated me to get into writing and into trying new things thank you. I am sorry if this letter is not written well I hope my point came across. Sincerely, Jam

Dear Jam, Letter well written and your point came across wonderfully. It reminded me of what I love about long sentences that go on and read the way we speak. We do not say "comma" or "pause" and often there is no pause in speaking you just continue to ramble like this girl I know who is in film school in California she calls me up sometimes and says Rocco you'll never believe what happened but first of all where did you go?! I thought you were dead and I first want to say that I am happy you aren't dead don't die. And this friend of mine she'll go on and on with equal veracity about new opportunities and meals she made that weren't that good. In any case you reminded me of what I love and thank you for that. And thank you for taking the time to tell me my work motivated you. That is a blessing for me to hear. Sincerely, Rocco

To Rocco, A month or two ago I came across your tiktok. I instantly opened my notes app and started writing after close to a year or having little to no inspiration. It’s rare for me to find someone who instantly inspires me to pick up a pen again but you’ve done just that. Thank you. Also, out of sheer curiosity, who are your favourite authors and poets? I have a feeling I’d also like whoever you like.

Ain't nothing like hearing that. Write! Write! Write! Be inspired! Makes me excited for tomorrow, I just know something is going to inspire me. Everything always happens. Happenings and happenings and inspirations. My God the terror of it! But it's good because we're alive and we've got to have happenings and inspirations. My favorite authors and poets? Have you ever seen "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty"? There's a scene in that where Ben Stiller's character, who is adventureless, and shy, is looking at a photograph. In the photograph is Sean Penn's character, a man of adventure and vision and experience. And suddenly the photograph is animated, and Sean Penn's character calls him forth with a gesture of the hand. I had that same experience in a coffee shop one day, with a book of Walt Whitman's complete poetry works. On the front cover there he sat, in black and white, sitting with a hat on, long white beard flowing off of his face like snow onto his black wool coat. And he called to me. He said "this way, young man, you're alive, you're the living, and you're to do this work." I started ditching school to go write poems, ditching everything to go write and wander around the city and look at everything and listen to people and say hi to people and go on dates and eat food and smell smells and look at lights and colors and get lost in the museum and see the paintings with my soul so much that tears would come and I'd feel a little naked, but it was all genuine and true. I know poetry is powerful. It has real-world effect on a human being. It lights up existence, it makes you see something that IS THERE. It makes you aware of your dullness. It makes you say "if life is boring it is MY fault" because life is not boring and there is incredible value everywhere. Walt Whitman woke me up to that. Gertrude Stein. Gertrude Stein. I know Gertrude Stein. She's just one of those writers who has influence me so much that I must claim to know her, though I know I don't. She, like Walt Whitman, helped me locate my soul. Jack Kerouac did the same. I love letters and for that reason I love to read the writings of Abraham Lincoln, and I also always return to Bram Stoker's Dracula. Abraham Lincoln wrote the best letters. Carson McCullers wrote "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" when she was twenty-three. That book is one of my favorites I always re-read it. It is sad and beautiful, deeply meaningful. I wish I knew Carson McCullers. The first author I ever read and fell in love with reading because of, was SE Hinton, I read all her books in sixth grade, before they were required reading. And it really enabled me to stick it to the english teachers that didn't like me (rightfully so, I was a clown) because I magically knew everything about the books, I even had the robert frost poem memorized. That was an early little indication I loved poems. But I didn't find out till later what the heck I loved. It sneaks up on you. One day ya just go "why do I pay so much attention to this and care so much?" I hope you'll write me another letter and speak of the books and authors you love. Sincerely, Rocco

Dear Rocco, Last night I heard your poem "find the meaningful patterns", and I really want to thank you for it. It became my favourite poem the second I heard it, as I've never had a piece of writing feel like it were speaking to me so directly. Within the opening line I immediately felt seen. I've been struggling to find myself for a long time, and I've been too afraid to do it out loud. However when I heard your poem I told my friend about it, alongside telling him what I've been trying to find out about myself. He gave me a kind ear and good advice, but I wouldn't have told him about my stuggles if it weren't for your poem. So really I just want to thank you for helping me feel a little more okay with finding out what's a fun life to live without fear of judgement. Thank you, Sophie

Dear Sophie, It can't be stated to proper effect, how much it means to me that you were moved to entrust a friend, with your inner struggle to be your genuine searching self, after hearing that poem. A good poem moves a person to do a good thing. And that must mean that the poem is good. I had deleted it! And I just put it back up, as well as a bunch of other ones, only because I read your message. Which means your message is a good poem!!!! You have moved me to do something good, which is to let a good thing continue being a good thing. I remember when I wrote it. I wrote in the parking lot of a grocery store. Good friends do that for one another. And I'm trying to be a better friend. Thank you for your poem, I hope you are continuing to find the meaningful patterns. Sincerely, Rocco

Rocco, Forgive me I’m not so great with words, but I’ve come to love your way of expression so deeply. I’ve been trying to live slower, read more, disconnect and I’ve found reading your work has brought so much peace. What do you read? What books excite you? What literature challenges you. I’ll stop myself before I pry any further. Keep well, love, eat, dance and do all that things you joy. With love, S

Dear S, What great questions. I will happily indulge. What do I read? One of my favorite books that I read over and over and over again, is "Cannery Row" by John Steinbeck. A good book is a good friend, and this book is one of my best friends in the whole world. There is a group of characters in the book called "Mack and the boys" and all I can say is I love Mack and the boys. They remind me of how I am with the ones I consider brothers in my life. Rag-tag, good-humored, understanding, flawed, excited at a can of beans or a cup of coffee, excited at making a small fire, good-natured, not looking to hurt no one, but not blameless and often tripping up and makin a mess. And so I suppose I really love books with the kind of characters I love, which are those who remind me of the characters in my life that I love. And it inspires me to try and pencil down those ones I love in my life, and capture their charm on the page. What literature challenges me? Well shucks--I've been trying to read through Pride and Prejudice for three years now. Not because I can't read it well or because it's no good. But because it's so good that it's simply unbearable. And here's what I mean. I love sentences. A good sentence fills me with so much life---man! Jane Austin's sentences are so good that I just put the book down and want to go do something. They make me feel good, Jane Austin's sentences. They make me smile and even laugh a bit aloud. And so I'm only ever halfway through Pride and Prejudice, and when I pick it back up I always start from page one. In terms of literature that challenges me, in the way of having difficulty reading it, well shoot, Virgina Woolf's "The Waves" is brilliant a beautiful, but man, that book'll sort your mind out differently. Only got halfway through that. And Thomas Wolfe's "Look Homeward Angel"---man! Only got to chapter 7 and had to go get a coke zero to comfort me. A lot of these writers are just so brilliant---Dostoyevsky's another one. Shoot! I read "The Brothers Karamazov" and got through that just fine because I really made myself not put it down, and that one, that's a book that changed me. But I only got halfway through "The Devils" cause I got lazy. Some writers you just can't afford to get lazy with. I'm a writer you can afford to get lazy with. A book I just can't understand no matter how disciplined and focused I am? hmmmmm....Stephen Hawking's "A Brief History Of Time" That man was somethin' else, and when he gets down to the quantum level, I just don't have the smarts for it. I can barely grasp the large scale stuff. What books excite me? I'm very excited about speaking French. I wanna be fluent in French someday. And so I get real excited about trying to learn how to read "The Little Prince" in French, and I get excited when I see I'm making progress. Also, the books I have in my mind, that I want to write, excite me. I've got about a million ideas, but ideas are the easy part. Books really excite me. I really could go on and on, but I feel like a hog. Perhaps you'll respond in another letter and tell me of your favorite books and what interests you, and challenges you. Thanks for caring. Sincerely, Rocco

Hi Rocco- I came across your work just a few weeks ago and I want to let you know how beautiful I think it is. All of your songs are so touching and is probably the most beautiful poetry I’ve heard in awhile. I’ve gone day’s listening to only your songs and the lyrics always amaze me. I think it’s so cool that someone with your talent and artistic ability is making such beautiful artwork and I want to encourage you to continue creating. Thank you so much for making your music.

Dear Sarah, I'm blessed that you came upon my poems and dug them, and blessed you went further to listen to my songs. Perhaps you can relate, perhaps not, but I am a majorly self-critical person, and I continually profess to have blown almost every opportunity I've been given in life, as well as claim to have nothing to show for myself (I say this with some humor!) I only say this, so that what I say next isn't misinterpreted as the statement of an ego-maniac. I know my songs and poems have something special in them. They are the only things in my life I can claim to have done right and not screwed up (when I'm not deleting them). I only say this, to stress how I look at whoever finds them. Whoever finds them and can hear what is special in them---that person is special and already has whatever is in the poem or in the song, in them. And so Sarah I mean it greatly, to my core, when I say that I believe in you, whoever you are in your life, whatever you are pursuing, whatever battles you're battling, whatever you are keeping faith in. You've got it. You've most definitely got it. Thank you for taking the time to leave me a message and show your appreciation. I appreciate you. Sincerely, Rocco

hey rocco! my name is marina robinson. i'm 13 years old and i found you through tiktok. i want to say i really really love your poetry and your stories. i'm a writer too. here's a narrative poem i started writing late last night and finished today (it was inspired by something i can't remember, because when i started jotting it down it was around two am and i fell asleep soon after) it's called Quarry Boy one rain-dark night i took a shot and grinned wide at the game i’d caught a hare of white, now streaked with red a bullet nestled in his head loading the carcass in my bag, a close branch snapped through the downfall i looked up fast — prayed for a stag to stuff and mount up on my wall i found a shadow cast on oak and held my breath to make no sound so i could drag this quarry home and show the fellas what i found i saw a flash of red-brown coat and trained my shotgun on his throat but in the storm, i couldn’t see what truly stood beside that tree. there were no antlers there in sight but as i chose to fire my gun a cleft of lightning broke the night and showed me just what i had done: i heard a gasp become a scream my lungs contracted, cold with fear but still i ran, only to see i’d shot a boy and not a deer. his hair sun-blond, his eyes blue-gray laid on his back, he looked aghast he coughed and sputtered, “not today, please, no!” but still, he went out fast alas, i’d no time to condole i thought not of penance to pay: i prayed for mercy, blessed his soul, turned on my heel and walked away. and so, before morn’, i split town and left his body to be found by some soul with less luck than me (but, save for him, who could that be?) i took a train to gatlinburg, stood on the riverbank, and then i watched my shotgun float downstream. i never held a gun again. and though i’ll never know his name, the deer-boy in the wood that night i hear his cries in storm-torn skies and slumbering i find the sight of two blue eyes like marbles rare and sunny shocks of yellow hair, hung on display above my bed with antlers jutting from his head. i hope you liked it as much as i like your poetry! --marina ps. there was a poem you uploaded to tikok a while ago that started with something like "take me to the warrior, give me his eyes, give me her eyes" and i really liked it but i can't find it anywhere anymore, so i'd really like it if you could upload it somewhere but you don't have to

Dear Marina, I just responded to your other letter, and now I have read your fantastic poem and I am shocked, because you said your poetry wasn't so good. This poem is incredible---I wish I'd written it. I could imagine everything in my head, the scene in the woods, the clothing, the lightning flash, I love how the character says a prayer for the dying boy, and then I felt like it was a Johnny Cash song smeared into a poetic story, it rhymes so well, and is complete, not leaving anything hanging or missing. Thank you for sharing it with me and anyone who stumbles upon this site. I would keep writing and sharing your work if I were you, especially because you're 13 and you're already that good. I don't think I could write something like that NOW, and I'm almost 30. Thanks for inspiring me, Rocco

dear rocco frattasio: it's marina again! i saw in a response to someone else's letter that you started a story a few years ago but that you don't recommend it, so out of curiosity i started reading, and i think it's incredible. it's a very intriguing and honest and conversational voice. it's very holden caulfield, in the best way. i actually consider holden caulfield one of my best friends. i'm being serious. he feels like a friend to me. anyway, i'd love to write like you and i think you're some kind of genius. really. --marina

Dear Marina, One of the things that inspires me to write is a certain kind of challenge. And the challenge is this: create something that would make Holden Caulfield feel it is worth it to live in the world. Because Holden's criticisms of the world are the same ones we have, aren't they? Ahhh, people are phony, life's a game that you can only win if you get on the side of all the hot-shots, everything's twisted and perverted, and the only one's worth a damn are children but there's no saving them from growing up! What is to be done! Fair enough, fair enough. Well, there's a great deal worth sticking around to defend. We need Holden Caulfields that stick around and decide to grow up and battle. Battle on behalf of the things that aren't phony, the things that are genuinely true and meaningful, the things that children dream of which are actually there and can happen; but only if there are competent mature people around to protect the things that are precious. There is good work to be done. There is music in the world. There are people who fall in love and remain faithful. And the thing is, if everyone round the world does it wrong, and only two people do it right. Even just that one pair of genuine lovers is worth speaking for, fighting for. One star in a vast sea of darkness makes it worth it. On the days we are 99% darkness and bitterness and resentment, that 1% makes ALL THE DIFFERENCE. For it blooms into the world if you'll let it, a better world, that reverberates outwards and impacts everything it touches, like a good prayer upon a twisted and dead ground. Flowers will bloom. It happens. It happens. It's worth it, Holden. Thanks for your message and thanks for diggin' my story, though I still maintain it ain't so great haha! Sincerely, Rocco

Hello Rocco Frattasio, my name is Sarah and I absolutely adore your work, please never stop gracing the world with your art, you have the voice of storyteller and the mind of a great. Though no difference on the world this will make, i’d like to tell you that you have been engraved in my teenage girl diary as my favourite poet. I also write poetry but they aren’t very good so they may never make it out of my diary. I can’t begin to put into words my horror when I had found you’d taken down your tiktok video where you read your poem ‘Lucky’, and then my excitement when I read I can now find it on spotify, it may be my absolute favourite poem in the world. Thank you for reading, I wish you luck on your rise in the world of poetry and literature. Sarah

Dear Sarah, One day I was visited by a question and it scribbled itself onto a page before me. What comes after poetry? Well, I launched a full investigation. I called the investigation: The Aftermath of Poetry. You see, we live in a world of consequence, and a domino falls over and hits another and on and on. And I was wondering about the domino of a poem. What happens after? What's the reverberation? So you heard some words that were different from other words, they stood out, they rang, they ignited something in you, so what? So you discovered your metaphysical ears, so what? The conclusion I came to was that, when you discover your metaphysical ears, your otherworldly ears, your ears and eyes for poetry, the consequence is that the world becomes a poem. Somehow, someway, the world is longer the same. Once you cross over the bridge and decide, decide that you wish your world to be the poetic world, then there is no going back to the world as it was before. In the aftermath of poetry, it is all poetry, and it could never not be poetry, no matter what. And like a violin-player continuing to play, even on a sinking Titanic, your world and your brain and your heart is fused with the most meaningful most beautiful love-notes, and no one nor anything can take that away from you. Thank you for your poetic heart, thank you for appreciating what I appreciate, a world of poem. Sincerely, Rocco

I waited so long for Persephone to come onto Spotify and it finally dropped a week ago and I can't fully put into words how heavily my heart feels for this song. Thank you Rocco.

Dear issy, Persephone came and went on Spotify. Thank you for diggin that song and I apologize for it not being available anymore. I hope to figure out soon how I can develop my music in a broader more accessible way. Get good recordings done and maybe even tour. To tour would be wonderful, and I'd expect to see you singing along to Persephone with me, someday in some town. More importantly though, whatever you're up to I hope you feel purposeful, and I hope you're having interesting dreams, good ones, and even when they are bad I hope you find some meaning in them that inspires you. Strange things, dreams, huh? Makes you want to have good music about you, always. Thanks for your message. Sincerely, Rocco

Dear Rocco, Your work has meant a great deal to me. You are truly inspiring and I would like to encourage you to never stop sharing your work with the world.

Dear Millana, It means a great deal to me that my work found you, and that you found something in it, a frequency perhaps, that you recognized. You encouraged me to keep sharing my work, and I thank you for that. I will also bind myself to a promise, which I encourage you to join me in, and that is to continually seek out whatever that frequency is, that keeps inspiring us, and keeps letting us know the light, through anything, no matter how heavy. Sincerely, Rocco

To Rocco: Today I fell off my bike. The chain fell off the gear which, in turn, sent me off into the pavement. Upon the not-so softest of landings I skinned the palms of my hand and the face of my knee, accompanied by an assortment of excess scrapes and bruises meddled about. Whilst the shock was immidiate, the stinging of my palms has persisted through numerous periods of re-bandaging. Unfortunate, I know, but my point is not to that of pity, but to the acute awareness of what remains consistent. I first learned of your writing through hearing you read your piece ‘lucky’, and I have held it close to my heart since. To answer your question, [what moves you?] is no simple answer, yet to put it plainly it is passion. Maybe it is not the word in itself, but rather a recognition of its existence. I truly recognize passion in you, through your writing and the work you do, and it is something I both admire and wholeheartedly consume. I think of it often, that is your writing and the way that you percive and I think that it is something that you yourself should be proud of. Because much like the stinging that has caused me to become consciously aware of my hands at all times, your word have made me more aware of how feeling- raw and inconvenient as it may sometimes be - Is proof that I am still here. That I am still paying attention. That I still care, and I thank that’s what your work does. It doesn’t ask to be admired, it rather quietly insists on being felt. So thank you, sincerely, for moving through the world with that kind of clarity. You remind me that presence, no matter how bruised, is still a gift. All my love, Caroline

Dear Caroline, I believe you stumbled upon a valuable truth. Beginning with the bicycle that lost its chain and then stretching into what moves you. Passion, you said, moves you. Without the chain the bicycle will not move, I suppose unless you carry it. And there have been times in my life when passion has left me, and I will not move unless I, or something greater than I, carries me. They call the crucifixion, when Christ carries his cross up hill, the passion. Whether you are a believer or not, the message still stands as useful I think; that when we have come to the end of what moves us, there is always something outside ourselves we can access, as you said, "no matter how bruised" we are. There is always a way forward for those who will open their eyes and ears to the possibilities of the soul. Music and poetry have always been what makes me "still care" as you said. Thank you for taking the time to write me. And thank you for your spirit. Sincerely, Rocco

dear Rocco i discovered your music and poetry a year or two ago now and ive adored every part of it, i find the way you write so beautiful. i used to listen to your music every time i drove my beat up old car around the country, it reminded me of home. i grew up on a small farm in the country, hearing your music remined me of the days i used to stroll through old, unkept, overgrown paddocks wishing for the day i could move to the city. hearing your music has changed how i think about those days, its warped my mind for the better. i really just wrote this to tell you how much i appreciate what you do, your work is incredible and i admire it all especially your poetry and writing. never stop writing you have an amazing gift :) love from sam in Australia

Dear Sam, Driving a beat-up old car around the country sounds good to me, that's a music isn't it? Driving a beat-up old car around the county is a music. My pal Wesley and I drove my good old reliable toyota carolla through the country, going through small towns, bigger towns, cities, long stretches of farm land, and I'll bet some of the small farms we drove past were probably like the one you grew up on. Places where I imagined there were some who didn't care much to leave and others who were dying to check out some other place. You say you imagined the city. Wherever you have ended up I hope your journey towards a good life is working out well. You have wished for me that I never stop writing, and well, I see it the same as your driving around and pondering the farm and pondering the city. This pondering must be a kind of music as well, and I dig it. And this wishing one a continuation of what drives them forward to make something of this life, well I really really dig that music. Thank you for finding my music and putting it to good use. Sincerely, Rocco

Dear Rocco, I dont know if you'll ever see this but I have to express my unyielding gratitude somehow. Art I think is the way our souls speak. The raw expression of emotion no matter the magnitude has always been able to communicate with meaning beyond words.There is such deep beauty in listening to someone else's soul. In that way I evny the people who can be brave enough to share thier soul with the world. I find that same beauty when listing to your albums.Ever since I was young I have always valued music,somtimes more than my life. It is the only thing that can silence the ongoing roaring hum of thoughts withen my head. The only thing that will let me rest at night.It is my escape and my cheished solitude. When I first stumbled upon you I found the same thing I have found in some of my other favorite artists... your songs show your soul. The raw and powerful energy.With one song I was hopelessly caught in the whirlwind of words and melodies that made me want to search for a slither of warm sun in the relentless pour of rain. Your songs gave me hope and love in a time when all I thoguht I could ever feel was pain. You healed the young.. well you helped healed me. Your voice is always so warm I honestly don't know how else to explain it.Eveytime I shuffle my playlist and I hear your gutair strum and gentle voice I melt. I melt compleatly and utterly. You have helped me get through so many heavy days when I just want to melt away in the back of the classroom. And i think it will continue to guide me though the pain of higschool and the scary unknown of growing up in a world which is constantly at war with itself. Please never forget the power you hold. It can change people's lives. I dont think any word can ever encapsulate the utter adoration I have for your music and poems but I hope this letter has able to given you an idea. Please never stop sharing your music poems and stories. And thank you for sharing your soul through your art, it is truly beautiful. - Shara 💗💗💗

Thank you for your letter Shara, and thanks for discussing such themes with me openly for others to read, others who I have no doubt will nod their heads in understanding. I nod my head in understanding when you speak of music as something that won't let your life be a melting away in the back of a classroom. I remember high school classrooms and for some reason I miss them, having not liked them very much. I mostly ate lunch alone or in the library alone, I didn't feel like I belonged and yet I felt I could if I could only figure something out. But how do you go about figuring something like that out? Music and lyrics have this guiding quality, a quality that I think even the most materialistic person would grant to be otherworldly. Music seems to give us an elsewhere that is also here. It brings what you need into the now, somehow. And when you take off your headphones is it still there? Does it stay in your head? It is a reason to look forward to many a future day, when you consider the great investigation: what song do I wish to have remain in my head? What music would I wish my world to mesh with? The great mystery of frequencies is our mystery. Thank you for sharing in the awe and the hope with me. Sincerely, Rocco

Dear Rocco, Only nights ago I stumbled upon your incredible work, and your words made me find back my way to mine. For this I want to thank you. It is rare to be as instantly inspired by art so as to immediately start writing again. Your poems have been endlessly touching, your music all the same, and I have just finished a day in the sun listening to nothing but your albums. I want to encourage you to keep gracing the world with your art. I am sure it can do for others what it has done for me. Sincerely, Yuri

Hey Yuri, you know my cousin made this website for me, he came up with a letters idea and a blog section I could write in. A couple years ago I tried writing a story about a road-trip and a werewolf and I never finished it and don't recommend it. But nevertheless it'll always be up on this site. It's good to keep trying every day isn't it? And you let the past be past. I'm grateful you came upon my stuff and decided to check more of it out, going down the rabbit hole of it. I hope you got good things from it. Maybe the tunes get something good from you too. I think that'd be cool if it works like that somehow. Maybe like we're all a different kind of chemical and when a song hits a person there's a different reaction every time. Thanks for being in the world and saying hi. Rocco

Dear Rocco, Many of my memories have echos of the music. Singing as we welcomed sunrise in Zambia. Belting Wagon Wheel on the Appalachian Trail. Muted fireside jamming after bedtime. Rooftop harmonies under Orion in Haiti. Serenading subway passengers with Queen in NYC… When I heard you live on TikTok, your voice matched the tune of my memories, this calming lullaby of safe places I’ve been in time. I appreciate that. Thanks for being willing to share life through your lens. P.S. I saw a reel where someone buried their turtles in the winter and dug them up in the spring. Sarena

Sarena, Those sound like the kind of memories that can carry a person straight on through to the other side of things. The other side of things is where you're able to smile after a long day, maybe even laugh after a puddle splashes up at you. I'm grateful for the memories I have which show me that other side. That silver lining. Way more than just a lining, isn't it? May it be the whole picture after all? I imagine you could take those rooftop harmonies and let them sway things right on through. Right on through, no hesitation. Jamming and serenading your way into love. Who's to say otherwise except yourself? Thank you for sharing your melodic muses, your poltergeist jazz; for it made me think of my own. What thrilling little creatures those turtles are. They'll never bore me. Your friend, Rocco

Dear Rocco, I've been enjoying reading your blog. I don't know if anyone has told you this lately, but you should be very proud of yourself. It takes a lot of courage to be the guy who writes a novel, even if it's not perfect. It takes a lot of courage to be the guy who moves across the country. And it definitely takes courage to sing to strangers. I've been trying to take pride in myself recently, so I hope you are too. Also - never give up that sense of romance! No matter what any ex girlfriend tells you! Are you moving again? What comes next? Whatever it is, and even if you don't know yet - wishing you the best! <3

Ella, Thank you for this gem of words. I hope you are taking those leaps you feel you must for the better. Sometimes I've found it difficult to understand what "the better" is. To pinpoint it truthfully. Because sometimes it depends on what part of you is reaching out. There have been times for me when the impatient or angry or hopeless parts of me are the ones reaching out. Can't let them have their way, that's for sure. And so I've come to the conclusion, that whenever it's the part of me which is looking up, but is also afraid, looking up, but is also doubtful, looking up, but does not want to stay bored. That is the part of me I must push forward to realize its dream. That's what we need courage for, and faith, and hope, and truth. To let that part of us, that part that looks up, get what it needs. That's how everyone saves the world, too. Thank you for your strong voice, I pray for you the same strength in whatever challenges you're currently spying over the horizon. Your friend, Rocco

Rocco, I hope that your time in Colorado has been a time well spent. The last time we saw eachother you were on a much different path, but ventured your way onto this incredible journey that gives you the ability to inspire so many people. we all miss you at home and i hope the best for you on your journey back to your roots!!! also, is your latest blog post based on a true story?? All the best & with love, Kayla

Kayla, Hey pal, been thriftin' around? I'm really bad at it. I bought a pair of shoes for fifteen bucks a couple weeks ago, they had no laces on them. I donated them a couple days ago. The problem with me is I think everything is perfect when I'm in the store, and I have a vision, a revelation, of the cool new me, and I'll I have to do is make the purchase, walk out, and put the new identity on. But it isn't all total bs. I just got a new jacket and I can't take the damn thing off. I mean literally it's stuck, the sleeves are too narrow and the buttons won't unclick. I look like some freaky thing from Beetlejuice with this thing on. Nah, just kidding it's a great jacket. I miss you guys a ton and I'm looking forward to getting some pizza. I know Jake wasn't all into the tradition when I invented it, but we should go check out the Old North Church with the last slices of pizza in our hands, make a toast to Mr. Revere. If Jake says no we'll have to give him the old handkerchief with chloroform routine. If I'm competent, all is truth, but I'm bound to stumble. I hope you're feeling great about things, summer is rolling on in soon. It's going to be a party of the ages. Your friend, Rocco

Rocco, Thank you for the music you create. I’ve been following your stuff for months now and every release just gets better and better. Excited to see where your music takes you next! With love, Graciela

Graciela, I'm excited as well. I've found it very easy, in the past, to pick apart life very harshly, and put down whatever aspirations or dreams arise. But what kind of game is that? I believe many are waking up and moving on from that game, it is simply dull. And so we move towards something which smiles, authentically, and if it must frown from time to time, so be it, but in the name of contemplation and not destruction. Music is like holy water to me. I use it like medicine on all my darker tendencies. Words work the same. So do thoughts. So do these letters. Little by little, step by step. We are converting dark space into star. Thank you for listening and joining me on this dreamlike pilgrimage. Your friend, Rocco

Heyo! I don’t want to get too personal in a public letter, so I think I’ll just ask a general question. You’re gonna be spending a lot of time in your car driving around the country. Could you tell us a bit about your car? Does it have a name, or perhaps a gender? What does it dream about when the engine stops? Cheers, Peter

Peter, My car is of the Toyota galaxy, planet Corolla, and his name is Carl. Although sometimes when my car makes strange noises, I pat the dashboard above the radio and say "easy girl, whoaaaa Bessy!" like I'm riding a horse. When its heart of life rests I imagine it dreams of delicious oats and tasty oil, and perhaps a retirement junk yard home...but way in the future after I arrive safely at my destination! Your friend, Rocco

Dear Rocco, As I was fortunate enough to receive a hand written letter during your first letter project, (letter #99 to be exact!), I wanted to take the opportunity of this platform to write you back! This is a crazy thing…writing to a person whom I’ve never met before yet, has impacted me so much. You are so incredibly gifted. Your voice, your guitar playing, your lyrics, your song writing ability, your genuine care and concern for those who listen to your music…the list goes on. I wish you nothing but the best as your prepare to go on your journey to do what you love. I hope that your canvas is filled with beautiful, colorful memories and growth. Thank your for the encouragement in my hand written letter, and if that is the only time that we ever write to each other…at least I can say that our paths have crossed. I’m learning to love the flowers and the moon…one day at a time. Be safe and be well. - Mary C

Mary C, It is kind of you to wish for me the best, I remember your letter well because we spoke of waiting for the miracle. That feeling that what you need most, perhaps only for a little while at a certain time in your life, is just around the corner, and shall be yours, but only if you accept it. I wonder how often it is we turn down the gifts intended for us, by giving in to doubt and bitterness. My conclusion has been this: that I may be foolish very often, and clumsy, but just because I knock over and break a vase from time to time does not mean that nice vases can't be had. When we can't understand what happens in life, we won't conclude that it is meaningless or absurd. Just as when we put on grey-colored lenses, we won't declare the whole world grey. Sometimes those grey-colored lenses just won't budge, won't come off. But we shall wait, we shall have that patience. And we shall seek beauty and meaning, always. You found me through my song 444 and have opened your ears to hear more since then. Thank you for your searching heart and your bountiful frame of mind. Your friend, Rocco

Hello Rocco, I will keep this short and to the point. Good luck on your upcoming voyage. God speed my friend.

Jake, At this hour I am meditating on what makes me human. Is it that seemingly dangerous path into love and loving? Coated in meaning goes I. A canvas is a blank space, a void. And to look upon a void, a space where there is nothing, and to act as if something beautiful could appear there, is that not faith? Therefore says I, that the greatest artists of life have the most faith. For they doubt not the beauty they seek. Your friend, Rocco