Home Sweet Home

I'm in Vancouver/home helping to set up Ben's new Purr store. Things are great. With all the work n' such I haven't had much time to think, but sometimes that's a good thing. There's no internerd around here, but I'll drop some nuggets of nerdery when I have the chance.......

Where is My Mind?

Ben says his biggest fear is flying. Liz didn't like spiders much. My brother is afraid of needles. My fear is that someday I will loose my mind. Not like in old age, but that I'll experience something so harsh that my brain just gives up. Does not compute. I've had moments, actually just parts of moments where I've lost it.

I've been on a huge Daniel Johnston kick for the past week. Watched the documentary about his life - grew up in The Church of Christ (the same church I did), went crazy and threw an elderly woman from a second story window (she was possessed by two demons), took the keys from an airborne prop plane his dad was piloting and threw them out the window. They crashed but survived. Wouldn't sign with Electra because he thought Metalica was going to kill him. Worked at Macdonalds.

He writes amazing songs about love and draws some strikingly unique pictures of Captain America and Casper the Friendly Ghost. He's crazy. Reminds me a bit of Long Island Adam. He thinks he's going to save the world.

I'm covering one of his songs (True Love Will Find You in the End) for the Sad Bastard cover night at Marquee that Marco is putting together.



Almost all of his songs are love songs. I was starting to get a complex about how often the word "love" enters my songs, but after hearing Daniel's tunes, I don't feel so bad.

Speaking of love songs, it's way easier for me to write them when I'm not in love. Strange.

My brother did a really rad painting of one of my photos from The Island.




Here are some of his other paintings. He's getting really good. Self taught.

Sunlight

Trying to find it
Trying to find some words to say
Trying to hide it
Trying to remind me of that day

Looking around for an extra person in my life
To call my friend
And we're seen walking
And we're seen talking
Seems like there'll never be an end
Trying to find me out

Trying to hold it up
Trying to help it catch the sunlight
Trying to fold it up
Trying to make it fear the night

Looking around for an extra person in my life
To call my friend
We're seen walking
And we're seen talking
Seems like there'll never be an end
Trying to find me out

Wingman

Here's a video my friend Jzero shot of the Sled Island show at The Marquee Room. I had a cold, but the scotch seemed to help open the pipes up a bit.

The song is called Wingman and it's a love song I wrote for Dik.

The Choices We Make

The thing about not having roots is every decision I make has the potential to drastically change the course of my life. I've always had roots. Read, a special lady friend to keep me grounded. Mostly, this has been a good thing.

Now that my roots have dried up, releasing me to roam, I have the opportunity to choose for myself where to go.

Here's a line from one of the songs I wrote in January:

don't believe the lie that everything happens for a reason
the choices that we make we deal with everyday until we're gone

Contrary to this lyric, I try not to think too deeply about this kind of stuff. Once you draw a line in the sand with ideas like destiny, you start to let yr life/relationships be dictated by concepts. I prefer to listen to my heart and guts for such issues.

Life is strange right now. I'm loving it, yet the mood of my day seems to be set more by the dreams I remember in the morning than anything real. I keep coming back to that idea of the burden of the past / promise of the future. I'm stuck right in the middle of those two places, not feeling the tug of either very strongly.

I'm trying to be more like my bro Pete, who is content in his own skin. Not much can shake him.

A Walk in the Park

I stopped in for a visit at my uncle's (Keith) sign shop this afternoon. I was in the area picking up some materials for a project I'm working on. The shop is in an industrial park. A strange pairing of words. Industrial park.

I hadn't seen him since Christmas two years ago. He was married to my Aunt Flo who died of cancer when I was in grade eight.

He is a part of some of my earliest memories. When he started dating my aunt, he would come over to our old house in Rundle. My mom or dad would announce that he had pulled up out front in his gold Mazda and my brothers and I would go running to our hiding spots. Hearts pounding. He would come in the house and after saying his adult greetings would come and take the piss out of us boys for a while. I'm sure it got old for him pretty quick.

It was great to talk to him and his wife Laurel today. I had a pretty shitty night last night so it was good to have a conversation with someone who knows the big picture, but very few details about the direction my life has taken.

We talked about love, family, religion...

He gave me some real insight into things.

Ultimate Fighter

When I was on the Island, every second Saturday a bunch of us gathered at the home of Cory and Jess for some Ultimate Fighter Championship action on TV. At first I was shocked by it. Then, I was entertained. Then, I wanted to punch people in the face.

Cory doctored this pic of Brian and I.