JFlive1.jpg
 

ready, aim

 

joshua fletcher is a songwriter

 

Born in Macon, Georgia, Joshua Fletcher was raised just south of Atlanta in the suburbs of Fayette County. His first foray into songwriting came in the form of aggressive two minute long punk tunes penned for his then band, The Knockout. Like many in the genre, he grew accustomed to writing lyrics from the perspective of the underdog...

 

LIVE

News & Updates

 

Featured
New Website
Read More →

Twitter

 
Wing (1 of 1).jpg
ReadyAimCover1.jpg

READY, AIM

by Joshua Fletcher

Instagram

I rediscovered this pic from our Paris trip when I was putting together my VDay story and I just feel like it should live here permanently. #🔥
Snow Bunny™️
Y’all I’m real lucky I get to share a stage with @elenowen next Thursday at @eddiesattic. Tix are still available and you can get them at the link in my bio. My set will be accompanied by a full high school marching band and I’ll only be playing songs from Huey Lewis and the News’ classic album “Sports.”
May your days be merry and bright
Bonjour. It’s me, ya boy. I’m drinking out of a tiny cup.
Today I dropped my coffee in the street, drank a bunch of wine, and saw a bunch of people looking at the Mona Lisa.
View across the courtyard from the second floor at night, Paris.
🍁🍂❤️
Me and some of my dudes (@kylejoshuacox, @volunteersounds, @jdb52) are playing songs tonight at @smithsoldebar. Its not Halloween anymore but my birthday is on Wednesday so consider this my Halloween themed light-rock birthday party.
Sometimes you take your baby daughter to the art museum and you stop and think to yourself “I don’t deserve this.” And then you smile and say thank you and try and stop her from hurling herself down a bunch of stairs.
Ole punkin’ head.
A Letter to My Daughter on the Occasion of Her First Birthday A year ago today, your mother and I were sitting in a hospital room, scared out of our minds. We’d spent the previous evening in the same hospital room, trying to ‘get some rest’ before you would finally make your appearance and transform the nature of our lives forever. As it was, we spent most of the evening actively not sleeping. Your mother was shaking uncontrollably, a side effect of the medication she had been given to lessen the pain of what would end up being a 25-hour marathon delivery. As a result, she was mostly unable to get any substantial amount of rest, and I was trying desperately to stay awake with her as an act of solidarity. It was a largely unsuccessful act and I dozed off often, but never long enough for it to be considered “sleep.” I don’t remember much of the next day, except that I spent it with your mother and both grandmothers and at some point watched the Falcons lose to the Buffalo Bills. I ate a dry grilled chicken sandwich from the hospital cafeteria with your grandfather and aunt and tried my best to keep your mother supplied with as many ice chips as she could handle. I didn’t feel like a father. I barely felt like a man. More than anything, I felt like a child, trying to draw strength from those around me that had gone before but finding myself unable to absorb much of anything from anywhere. I wanted to contextualize everything that was happening (which was not much, really) but it was hard to think much past “what do we do next?” Continued in comments..