JOURNAL[Pages : 6 5 4 3 2 1]

BLOGtember

Hello folks.

I've been delinquent in my correspondence with you all. My apologies. A few things. The summer season is rife with contact with many of you. At festivals, we all hang out together. We talk to each other etc. that's good. I like bumping into you in a setting like that. But it accomplishes in person what my Blog does otherwise, so that--coupled with my laziness--gets the Blog demoted.

I got married in June. Yay! Thank you, thank you. She's wonderful. Melissa McClelland is her name. She makes me happy. That's all you¹re getting on her. Mine! (www.melissamcclelland.com)

I've been an active dad for most of the summer too. Some of you have seen Chloe & myself & Melissa play together. It's pretty special. Imagine what it feels like to be standing beside them. Hoooey.

All this to illustrate that I've been distracted from my BLOGging duties. I often consider that most of you couldn't care less about my musings. ANOTHER MUSICIAN THINKS HE'S BONO (ie: thinks he knows everything & can save the world?) is not exactly groundbreaking news to most of you & I realize that I litter my Blogs with my 1/4 baked political posturing & it must get tedious. However, I urge you to please recognize this for what it is: an opportunity for me to play grownup. In another life, if I weren't still spending most of my time doing what most of you did in high school, I might be a real & true grownup. I might be a journalist or a doctor, or a landscape company owner. So here, I get to pretend that there is a place for my musings in the world. As my 6 year old 2nd cousin Austin said this weekend "Luke has a song!". When asked where I had it, he replied incredulously, "I heard it on the radio--it's in the world?. Well, here I get to pretend that my long-winded prose is, like my music, in the world".

Why do I feel the need to qualify the existence of my Blog? I am sensitive to the phenomenon that some artists are afflicted by, which is the belief that if we are good at playing the guitar or setting our diaries to music, than surely we must be geniuses at EVERYTHING ELSE, especially if it involves our thoughts, lives, opinions, values. We are intrinsically narcissistic & often bask in the cool shade cast by Delusions of Grandeur. So, before I launch into another diatribe, let me say first that I appreciate those of you out there (Sarah D, Sue M, Anthony ?, Sylvia L) who have made a point of telling me that you enjoy the read. Hugely flattering, you are but unfortunately--for those of you who may find it highly self-congratulatory to publish ones own tripe on a website dedicated to themselves--also very encouraging.

On todays menu: a medley of questions. I have been inundated with political ideas & questions these last few weeks. Spawned by a few heated debates (thank you Ed & Lindy), a few meetings with an NGO (thanks Mike @ World Vision), an AIDS conference in my town, a few articles about prospective political leaders (is Michael Ignatieff a privileged egotistical elitist charlatan, completely out of touch with his native country; or a brilliant ambitious multi faceted internationalist academic, with Trudeau style appeal & therefore the best chances of representing Canada on the world stage & renewing our collective faith in centrist politics??? Ps. I'm a leftist.), a few pages of highly impassioned writing on Africa (thank you Aimee L & Stephen Lewis), a movie about how desperately we are torturing our planet (Al Gore), & a little war in Lebanon (Hezbollah, Israel) I feel like it's the season of action. I'm feeling motivated to engage somehow. Hopefully in a way that ventures beyond the backslapping, do-gooder, PR-disguised-as-philanthropy that many public profile artists appear to endorse. I am a cynical prick sometimes yet I realize that for someone whose business relies on getting their face in as many magazines & on as many telephone poles as possible, it's tough to avoid the accusations that public display of concern for the greater good is a PR ploy--the downside of years of shameless self-promotion.

My wife is a vegetarian. I was for 4 years, until about 6 years ago. Then in a fit of defiance & laziness, I abandoned it. That was right around the time I started smoking again, a ghastly habit I've since shed. I'm reconsidering (not the smokes). In fact, I may be a vegetarian again already. The problem is: I really enjoy meat--especially a good steak. My issues are generally political--environmental specifically. The quantity of arable land & water resources required to raise cattle vs grain is unforgivably high. Can we afford to gluttonously use the worlds dwindling rainforests & farmlands to breed cattle for unnecessary culinary luxuries? Factory farming is another concern, to be sure, but I find myself able to turn a blind eye to cruelty? We seem to employ it in so many areas of our lives & policies, generally to preserve a stranglehold on privilege. While it is humbling to consider, I'm more concerned about the fact that we will leave a potentially unlivable planet for our grand children, & mass produced meat products are very taxing on the environment. If it's true, as Stephen Hawking predicts, that we may be on the only livable planet in existence, are we not acting shockingly cavalier to weigh the environment against the economy? Not to regurgitate Al Gore's grade 9 level alarms, but truthfully, we are in rough shape.

That's a lot of stuff, huh? The self-righteous have a huge burden to bear. So, you might ask, 'What is your point?' You feel ashamed for being a middle class white boy with privilege & you don't want to put yourself at a disadvantage by making sacrifices to initiate change??

Yup.

I don't want to take the Greyhound bus on tour to reduce global warming.

I don't want to boycott American products (or audiences) to protest the Iraq war.

I don't want to never tour Europe because the pollution created by commercial airliners is appalling.

I don't want to sing about AIDS because I'm not a good enough songwriter to do so in a graceful way, or humble enough to sacrifice my pride by issue-bashing in my songs. (Ew).

I may be able to eschew meat in favor of a more eco-friendly diet. But when I'm in the south, I will need your help in locating the good eats, that means you Tennessee, Kentucky, Texas, Florida--see you in the fall.

NB. I may relapse when having good wine & lively debates with the In-Laws. Steaks give me strength to fight the good fight!!??

Ghasp. Is it possible that laying all this existential drivel out for all to mock, will allow me to sleep? Is there any way to politicize insomnia? Thankfully not.

have i answered any of my own questions? mmmm nope.

This reads as the preface to a larger work. More later: (World Vision--can i align myself with an NGO who does amazing work for orphans in AIDS ravaged Africa, despite their strong religious overtones? probably... or do Doctors Without Borders offer tour support?...probably not)

See you out there.

L



Scotland, 2006-05-18

En route from Leeds to Glasgow, I stopped in Lockerbie for lunch. It came up on the map & I could not resist. I know of this town because of the disaster of 1988, when a bomb ripped a Boeing 747 to shreds & dumped its human cargo & fuselage on the unsuspecting sleeping residents of tiny Lockerbie.

I wandered up the main street searching for a place to have lunch & chat with the locals. There might be some folklore to collect before reading the epitaph’s of 280 strangers. I stuck my head into a few places but they were more like cafeterias, with 15-year-old moms & strollers; some sitting with their husbands, who looked like brothers to the babies, never mind fathers. Finally, I settled on the King’s Arms Hotel & Pub. As I sat waiting for my homemade steak pie (Scotland is not the place to embark on your new vegetarian regiment), I took a moment to inhale fully my surroundings .Being in a small quaint Scottish town—alone—is noteworthy enough as it is. these little moments need to be savoured. You tell your grand kids these things. Compound the setting with the fact that Pan Am flight 103 exploded over this little hamlet & then crushed dozens of sleeping families on the ground… & the spine tinglers roll in like marching infantry.

As I sat there contemplating all these things (we are so worldly when we travel), the wee town, the pub, the history; my mood was rudely hi-jacked by my immediate setting. Through crunchy dusty speakers poured an endless stream of legendary AM radio power ballads from the 80’s. Reo Speedwagon, Chicago, Air Supply, even Cindy Lauper’s “All through the night” (just writing those words almost reduces me to a puddle of nostalgic drivel) It was as though the pub was frozen in time, to preserve the event & haunt us from the very era that hosted the tragedy to which I came to pay my respects. The irony (is that irony? where is Alanis when you need her??) was unsettling.

It was a confusing lunch. On one hand, sitting in this place is enough in itself to inspire some grandiose existential blues. The soft white light of the ever clouded Scottish sky raining into the lonely post lunch-hour dining lounge, reflecting off the translucent walls of the sorely neglected aquarium, where small desperate guppies swim endlessly around in circles, their little brains too small (or hopeful) to accept that there is no way back to the Bahamas. The face of the clock on the wall has the same expression it always has, & says, “get out of this town before nothing ever happens, or the sky falls on your head”. A septuagenarian couple (eaves dropping reveals them to be siblings) discuss the ancestral lineage of the Monday, Wednesday, and Friday barmaid & cough up into their hankies at unnervingly consistent intervals. This scene is unfolding to the soundtrack of Peter Cetera’s “Hold me now…It’s hard for me to say I’m sorry”, & in an instant, all I can think of is how sore my face was after smooching Tracy McBride for 6 hours in the corner of Ryan Scrabyck’s basement, flipping Chicago 17 over for the 14th time as we groped at each other’s scrawny flat, sweaty bodies… At 10 o’clock it was time to go home to our homework, our BMXs, our training bras & screeching siblings, feeling as though something huge had just transpired. It was to have been the first stage of a long process of deflowering that would never really end—I’m waiting for the end chapter still.

How could I fully immerse myself in the moment I was otherwise experiencing: the pub, the town, the old faces, crooked teeth, the barmaid, the steak pie, Scottish bitter in my hand & belly, & finally the history: THE INVENTION OF MODERN TERRORISM, etc (as if there were other things I’ve chosen to omit), when my heart strings are being mercilessly tugged on, by the first girl who’s shirt I was most certainly NOT welcome to feel up?

Then, as I was about to crumble into a heap of steak pie & warm red beer, it hit me. The synchronicity, the serendipity of the whole thing struck me like a gallon of sweet imitation Obsession. I am 5 weeks away from my marrying a woman I adore. Everything that has even the most subliminal capacity to direct my attentions there, will. The final deflowering: my christening, bat mitzvah, university graduation, all at once. That’s what this will be in lieu of, never having celebrated any of these things.

This romantic, solitary, exotic (by Canadian standards) lunch in a place that defines twee & quaint; a cyber DJ playing the feather haired soundtrack to my first sub-beltline butterfly; a memorial to an otherworldly catastrophe which originated in my far off homeland…my impending nuptials to such a beautiful woman, all collided like melted Freezies in a cereal bowl.

The brown marble sludge that settled there stared back at me, my reflection looking confused, maudlin, & juvenile as it swirled around like the marble on a bowling ball. I paid for my lunch & shuffled my way out of the pub, down the street to the rented black Vauxhall & made my way out of town towards the cemetery.



Insomnia BLOG

Get it? Ever? It’s weird. I got 4 hours sleep last night. Went to bed drunk last night, after sitting in with Melissa & Josh Rouse at their respective gigs (love nights like that) & having end of tour drinks with Melissa, who just completed a month of dates opening for Matthew Good. Got up at 8 am to catch a flight home to Toronto. Didn’t sleep on the flight, (crosswords, some bad “reality” TV, some monkeys on the discovery channel, etc), got home & ordered Thai food & watched Ralph Fiennes in Spider (good flick), cleaned up the kitchen, read a bit of Vanity Fair, & finally went to bed. I should be tired right? Three hours later here I am sitting in my underwear, trying not to tap too hard with my acrylic nails on the keyboard for fear of waking Melissa up. She’s been asleep now for hours. Conventional wisdom says, “get up & do something” so here I am.

Starting tomorrow, I have three weeks off—unexpectedly—in Toronto. What ever shall I do with my wee self? I do have some writing to do. I need to get started on my next record. If I start writing now, I’ll have songs ready to record in the fall/winter so I can release a new record in the spring or fall of 07. Question is: what the hell do I write about? Broken hearts are out. Booze is tired. Love is too hard. Politics are too obvious & not so musical. Sex is good but what am I gonna do—make a porno funk record? I could make a really candid dirty record, a la vintage Liz Phair but it’s not so cute when it’s done from a guy’s perspective (remember: women are sexually liberated {cute}, men are perverts {not cute}). My family? I have already exposed them enough. Newspaper articles? Come on…

Maybe it’s time to start writing stories like a real writer does. Cohen, Waits, Springsteen, Costello, Sexmith… do these people have super interesting lives to draw from or do they observe well, filter their observations through a stylized vernacular & regurgitate through guitar strings & microphones to create the illusion of invention? Who can say, really? I feel myself gravitating towards the random* free association bullshit I used to write back in the early Veal days. I though I was being obtuse & Flaming Lipsy but really, I just hadn’t put the time into writing well & telling a real story. I know, Beck is a genius & he never really says fuck all, but I have this hang up about wanting to say SOMETHING (Not SAY something—there’s a difference).

*RANDOM. Ok. Pet peeve. I have to get something off my chest. Can anyone tell me where & when everyone started (miss)using the word random? “oh, my god I was just at 711 & this totally random guy comes up to me & goes “like, do I know you?”…

It must have come from some TV show or a hip hop track or something because it’s so ubiquitous now & 3 years ago it was not part of most kids’ vocabulary. Now, it’s being used like it’s a BIG word, by the same people who think “comprehend” is a big work (no, it’s just French for “understand”). I fear the Olsen twins are behind this. Barf. I apologize to all who are offended by my elitist rant.

I can’t spell worth shit. Anyone notice?

I saw Josh Rouse in Toronto (mod club) recently & he was playing with his rhythm section from Nashville. Holy shit, they were awesome. Top 5, I tell ya. That’s the second top 5er I’ve seen in the last few months. Wilco in Kansas City…Josh Rouse in Toronto. Calexico still holds the #1 spot. (The horseshoe tavern, Toronto. 2004. damn). Lyle Lovett (Queen Elizabeth hall, Vancouver…1999?) Ron Sexmith, (sonar, Vancouver, 2000). Bunch of kids playing Dixieland jazz in some dark, seedy “bar” in the 9th ward in New Orleans, 1994. Flaming Lips (Town Pump, Vancouver 1992), Jeff Buckley (solo, Railway Club Vancouver, 1998?—I was one of 2 people there…this show deserves a mention for that reason alone)… these were all amazing shows. I know that’s more than 5.

NB—I’ve never seen Camper Van Beethoven play…
Or Meatloaf.

I’m going to try sleeping again.
Peace
L

PS. When I say Melissa, I mean Melissa McClelland. She’s my fiancé. ‘case you didn’t know that. Yup june 24… then I never have to say fiancé again. Hate that word.



BLOG April 7, 2006

I’m sitting in my apartment in Toronto drinking from a HUGE can of labatt’s blue. I don’t even drink blue but I stopped into the duty free shop in buffalo, at the boarder, to pee & felt like a shoplifter, so I bought 2 huge beers.

I just had the most insane week. The junos were great. I mean the big tv show thingy was a bit WHATEVER. I presented an award with joel plaskett. joel is cool. I think some joel rubbed off on me. I’m about 2 feet taller now than I was last week. The award we presented went to the Bedouin Soundclash, who are pretty great too. OK, it was cooler than I’m making it out to be. After the ceremony we all went down to the Warner Music Canada party & drank millions of beers. Myself, Michael Buble,( no, not Bubbles), Ron Sexmith, Mark Mariach, & Matt Mayes played Elvis, Stones, & Johnny Cash & Springsteen covers till 4 am. Actually, Matt sat at the back of the stage with his friends & compared cool-guy trucker hats while we played. In fairness, they did then spin a pretty great reggae set.

After the big shaker , I went over to the Delta, where the rock stars were staying ( I was at the lowly Citadel) to see if Michael Holett (NOW magazine) was hosting the nightly jam in suite 420—for the 4th night in a row. The previous night, it was myself, Amy Milan (broken socials/stars), Jim Cuddy, Barney & Dusty Bentall, & a bunch of retired NHLers: Brad Dalgarno, Kirk Muller, Mark Napier, Russ Courtnall, Sammy Jo Small (womens’ gold medalist from team Canada). It was pretty rad. The whole weekend was kind of like that. I was totally star struck. I never get star struck. Maybe it was the athletes & actors. A different line of work. That might be the impressive thing.

There I was, trying to act all cool sitting beside Paul Coffey on the airplane, or pretending it didn’t hurt when Russ Courtnall rang a slap shot off my dick during the warm up to the JUNO cup game; during which I played goal for the NHL team…& kept Jim Cuddy off the score board. Did I mention that the entire cast of Trailer Park Boys was on the team (except J-Rok & the ladies)? It was fucking cool. I sat beside Bubbles in the change room. My daughter would have pissed herself. Mr Lahey was drunk. Randy lay on the ice at the end of the game & made a big wet patch with his warm, cheeseburger filled belly. Julian was never seen without his rum & coke. Ricky was an asshole. It was perfect.

See? Too much to relay. It was a blast. Not I know why people will do just about anything to get famous. They get to hang out with crazy talented people & do fun things.

Oh yeah, back at the Delta—I was looking for Michael Holett to see about the night’s jam & walked into the lounge & bumped into Chad Kroeger from Nickelback. He was ranting & raving about bands not earning their record deals. Where’s your Dictaphone when you need it most???

I got about 2 hours sleep every night that I was there, then I got on a plane Monday morning & flew back to Toronto for a night of Six Feet Under & chocolate covered raisins with my sweet heart, before getting up at fuck o’clock the next day to drive to Pittsburgh. Then Cleveland. Then Columbus.
I just now got in the door.
Tomorrow I open for Gordon Lightfoot…

SLEEP WHEN YOU DIE. Goodnight. L



after a brief hiatus B L O G

hi all.
i hope you haven't deserted me...for deserting you. i've been crazy busy. travel. rock. hockey. love. beer. all the good things that keep me away from my computer. when last we spoke i was bitching about steven harper's impending election. i've been away so long that i really have no idea how he's doing. please, canadians out there, enlighten me.

i'm in kansas city. i drove solo from houston to KC yesterday (800 miles) & therefore have today off. i was sitting in a cafe & noticed the large W I L C O on the marquee at some jumbo venue. my luck! i was expecting to be sitting in my little room at the howard johnston hotel watching spanish soaps all night... but no!! turns out my friend pat sandsone from the autumn defense plays keys with wilco, which is a bit odd because he's just about the best bass player i've ever worked with. my fear is that he's every bit as good a piano player as he is a bass man. that's unfair. we shall see in a few hours.

SXSW was a blast. i didn't see too many shows outside of the people i know & love (great shows by shout out out out out out, christine fellows, novillero, carolyn mark) that really, i don't need to travel all the way to austin texas to see. but after my own gigs, i was more keen to be around friends than to try & fight my way into hip rock shows. i know, "don't be such an old man" but that's me these days.

next week is junos, which for stateside friends, are the canadian equivalent of the grammy's. only less bling. canada is WAY less bling... someone recently asked my when i was going to rant in my BLOG about the junos. I've been nominated for Adult Alternative, Album... a category i share with blue rodeo, kathleen edwards, the low millions (leonard cohen's son) & neil young. NEIL YOUNG, people. ok, so yes, i do find the peacock nature of rock & roll pageantry a bit silly, & yes, it's true the industry votes for it's own, along political lines, but i've been nominated along some artists i really respect & lets face it--i wasn't nominated for selling the most records or having the coolest friends. simply put i'm flattered as all hell. yup. i love it. i can't wait to lose to any of these people.

my sandwich is ready. tomorrow night i play in St. Louis. see you out there.

L



Blockey

Since the holidays I’ve been chillin in ways that are unusual for me. For one, I actually really dig my down time. I sleep. I watch movies. I cook. I do crosswords (!??). fuck, am I getting old? My favorite activity of late has been playing hockey. It started out innocently enough in Winnipeg. My brothers’ friends are all 10 years younger than I am & they’re strapping young lads with long arms & big muscles (no this is not gay porn). So, her I am, feeling a bit out of shape after 12 years of touring & drinking beer, wanting to prove myself. Big mistake…Finally, now after 2 weeks, I have my legs back. My groin & hips were so sore I could barely walk. Now that I’m back in Toronto I’ve been playing ice hockey. A few games in Hamilton with my cousins & a few games in town with some of the Juno Cup alumni of 2004 (anyone see my assist? Hoowee.) which could end up back on the ice together at Junos 2006 in Halifax. I need to see if I have any ligit. excuse to be there. I should know in a few weeks. Fingers crossed. Anyway my point is primarily that I LOVE HOCKEY!!! I know what you are thinking: “big deal, he grows up in various parts of Canada, of course he digs hockey…duh” but it’s not like that. I hated organized sports after I turned 13 & realized that I would never be big enough to compete with the big boys. I don’t really dig the fighting element either. Nope, it was New Wave, Blues, Classic American literature & politics for me. No time for competitive oafish grunting with the fellas. It now appears I may have missed something. Last week Jim Cuddy (Blue Rodeo) called me to invite me out to a game. I was so excited that I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I was practicing in my sleep. For the record: I’m not so good. In fact, I’m usually the worst player on the ice. It’s just that I can’t get enough. One day I’m gonna be wicked. Serious.

Ok. Politics. Sorry, it’s election time. ARE WE FUCKED???? We are about to elect a man who says: “we shouldn’t be too concerned about poor people because they aren’t too concerned about themselves…” puke. Sputter. Ghasp. Fooey.

I know some are calling for a fiscal policy that is more progressive: smaller government, more privatization, less corruption…etc. some of these things may be sensible. The accountability thing has really sunk our Liberals (not “our” as in “mine” but “our” as in “the party that has governed us for the last decade”…this is for the benefit of my American friends who may not be as familiar with Canadian politics) & I’m kind of happy to see Martin get spanked. A wolf in sheeps clothing. I’m pretty sad that we will apparently be swinging further to the right. Isn’t that what we want to avoid in these times of runaway unilateral American imperialism? The western world doesn’t need more greed. We need more social programs: day care so single moms & poor families can get back to work & get off social assistance. We need better public education, including after school & extra curricular activities so that young people have hope & support--so they don’t turn our down towns into little Detroits & Houstons. We need to reinforce a neglected public health care system, which has been getting a smaller & smaller percentage of our GDP every year since Trudeau left office. Otherwise when it completely crumbles, the privatization lobby will say: “see? It doesn’t work. We need a second (private) option”, which is where all the rich people will send their wives & kids, thereby dragging the best & brightest doctors out of the public system so that when my daughter goes to the clinic for her asthma, she’ll still have to wait 3 hours but instead of seeing her usual excellent doctor, she’ll see some hack because the great doctors will all be getting paid twice as much at a private clinic… it’s basic supply & demand of the capitalist world. The rich people do get better cars. They do get better seats on the airplane. They get better tables at the best restaraunts etc. that is fair. That is capitalism. Fine. I’m not being a commi, BUT. Our country has long prided itself on stopping capitalism just short of health care. It used to be that our collective values said: yes, rich people get better stuff than poor people but not when it comes to healthcare. In that arena we are all equally entitled. That always made me proud. Are we going to let it go because the very politicians who own shares in the private health care system have starved our hospitals deliberately so that they fail? Can’t we see we’ve been sold a steaming pile?

Pant pant pant. It’s election time… forgive me.



Jan Blech

Hiearly, one January, two thousand and six

I'm back. Sorry for the absence, I was hibernating in the unseasonably warm slush of a Winnipeg Christmas--Hugging my daughter, talking to mom, tickling nieces, drinking with brothers & sisters etc.

New Year's has come & gone. I have made all the predictable resolutions (I'm typing as fast as I can so I can go sharpen my hockey skates) & am bracing myself for another season of touring. As you can see herein, I'll be venturing south of the border for the first time in awhile. I've concentrated thus far on Europe & Canada since the release of Broken (& other rogue states) because the record was released in those territories.

America is so important for a few reasons. First of all there are so many people living there & let's face it, they have all the money. There are as many people in Indonesia but they don't buy records by sensitive, self conscious, English singing, singer-songwriters. Nope, America is the final frontier. Make or break baby. Another thing, & this is maybe more important to an ego like mine: America is where it all HAPPENS, man. Yup, we can bash them all we want (politics?? Resolution # 4?damn) , we can complain about their apparent political arrogance & seeming disregard for anyone outside their scope, but at the end of the day, Dylan is a yank. Johnny Cash was a yank. Neil & Joni had to relocate & pretend. Robbie Robertson, who we love to think of as a Canadian, is from the US. Our beloved (yawn) Arcade Fire is comprised largely of ex-pat yanks. Noam Chomsky? Howard Zinn? Graham Parsons? Emmilou Harris? Sorry to bring it up ?cuz I know it smarts but they?s the facts. (oooeeee I'm gonna get some hate mail). But yes, the idea of heading south is more about wanting to be regarded as a player' sorry; PLAYA-- in the real world, which is not exclusive to, but certainly must include, the United States of America. I know:the Beatles ( blah blah blah?) but they felt it too. Afterall, it was the Beatles at Shea stadium...not Wembley. You just had to go to America. Otherwise you didn't really exist. Canadians are especially adept at pointing out the sensitivity of this fixation; We criticize america like no one else. And we imitate them even better.

So starting with a short tour with Josh Rouse ('yeah, you people all know what I'm talkin' about??) & then a few dates with Kathleen Edwards in SoCal, followed by a weekend in Austin (could some non-muso please film that weekend? We'll all be drunk & won't be there to experience it) mid march & then more UK/European dates late april, some Canadian festivals in July & then whatever else I can find in the US whenever I have a free weekend? you get the picture. I may be a cranky bastard when I write to you, however resolution # 2 may attempt to address & reverse this trend.

Hockey skates await. More to come. Sooner than usual. I promise (oops. Resolution # 3 won't like that).

Ta
L

Music I like lately :

Calexico & Iron & Wine
John Prine's new record (can't remember)
Sonny Boy Williamson (anything)
Howlin' Wolf (London Sessions)
Wolf parade ('but they sound so much like?? pthththththth)
Son of Dave ('02' it's a greasy one.)
The Perpetrators ('the gass & the clutch' ZZ top meets Lightnin' Hopkins. Winnipeg's best kept secret)
JD Ormond (demos of new songs. Bright Eyes with more innocence (or less pretense)
Chloe Dolores Doucet-Winkelman (got a new keyboard for Christmas & is tearing it up, yo).



Hello friends

The Alaska hi-way, at the 80-mile point, is surprisingly more developed than the trans-Canada in northern Ontario. More modern gas stations, more truck stops, newer hi-ways. There is so much money here. After speaking to local pipeline workers it becomes clear that anyone with the desire to work can get a job making 20 bucks an hour or much more. I can see why Albertans (although we are in BC, I know that much of this industry is based in Alberta) feel territorial about their resources & Ottawa’s fingers in their cookie jar makes them very uneasy. It’s such an affluent part of the country & it manages to be so without requiring the uppity education that so many working class westerners resent… & so many other high paying employment sectors require. It’s one of the things that set these people apart in a way that inspires their pride. Understandable.

I was talking to one of the staff at the venue today & was telling her that there is nothing to do here in Fort St John, & before I could explain that that was a good thing for me right now because it forces me to relax, she started telling me about all the thrift stores, antique shops, & cool spots to explore. Apparently we are all going line dancing after the gig tonight.

I walked across the parking lot to find toothpaste & a Globe & Mail. The Shell station didn’t carry either (?!) so I had to go to Wal-Mart. Yup my cherry has been broken. I bought a grey fleece sweatsuit. Tracksuit? Jogging outfit? I dunno but it is tres Wal-mart. And I got a pair of cheap running shoes so I can start running again. My bones are getting crunchy & my muscles are atrophying. Maybe that’s why I’m so cranky. I need exercise. Maybe the line dancing will do it. Anyway, of course they didn’t have newspapers. Nope, only the National Inquirer & Cosmo. Stuff that really matters to people. Everything I bought was made in China. Except the toothpaste. What a weird fucking place Wal-mart is.

I also spent hours watching the history channel today. I watched all the Remembrance Day specials. A bunch of stuff about WWII. 80 year old war vets talking about fighting to the death to liberate Holland, France, & ultimately , Germany. It’s hard to imagine that in 60 years we will all be remembering the Iraqi war heroes & the nobility of that cause. It saddens me to think that the world’s mightiest superpower (in the history of humanity) has convinced so many people of the need to continuously invade small non-threatening countries. Hitler was a threat. He invaded Poland & made it very clear he would be taking the rest of Europe. He needed to be stopped. We are such fools for buying the Republican lie that there is any real reason other than power & oil to send thousands of American, Australian, British, Iraqi & others to their deaths to “stabilize” the middle east & “protect” strategic interests (re: Israel). We don’t even need to qualify the original “reasons” for invading, as no one is dumb enough to believe them anymore… I won’t go there because this started in a good place. Remembrance day. The day we honor the soldiers who actually fought for the defense of our way of life, which was very much threatened in the 30’s & 40’s. for peace, not for greed.

Peace.



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