Hostel has closed now, til Mar 1. Means I can bring in the instruments to the living room, and not answer the phone or doorbell, which really helps me get into a creative frame of mind. The extra dog I was babysitting is gone home, and there’s just two guys left staying here longterm, so everything is relaxed.

.. ..

Don’t know if you’re the same, but I often don’t respond well emotionally to such conditions. Maybe I let myself go too much, or maybe the resentments I’ve been burying with work rear their heads. It’s been a bad mood couple of days, finding the faults in others, and worrying cause one of our kittens is AWOL long enough that I think he may be gone for good. I’ve gone through all the places he could have been locked into, without result, but I’ll be doing it again today, and walking the highway to see if I find a corpse.

.. ..

Now maybe my foul mood is also a creative assistance, or even part of my creative process. I write better in despair or rage, and criticizing others, or myself, produces some of my best ideas. Death is such a deep topic.

.. ..

I’ve been trying to finish off the songs for our next album, which is going to positive and ‘pop’, inasmuch as we can do that, so I’ve been struggling with those songs. Doesn’t fit my mood, or does the discipline needed to record/edit, record/edit, record/edit. Today I’ll just try to write, and exorcise the demons for a day. Dead cat song, perhaps ?

.. ..

Been reading my friend Rotem, I have to say he’s the best blogger I know. His stories have girls in them, and dialog, so while I’m hibernating in my navel, I encourage you to check him out.

.. ..

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.ListAll&friendId=57485525

love;

t

ps - must apologize to my friend todd, who turned me onto this band, who i wrote off as a libertines impression. i was wrong - check it out !

i love pop music. music designed to be catchy, succinct, and immediate. the best pop music has all the underlying art of your twenty minute sonic youth trilogy, stuffed into the less-than-three-minute envelope of the general public's attention span.

aside from the recording, and perhaps an island show or two around xmas, the band is quiet. the section of the movie where they show you preparations being made. the watermelon gun is almost complete.

first intermission gratefully pj stock free. where's cassie campbell and can she come back ?

quiet morning in squilax, blue sky, no frost, but a shading of white on the top of the mountain, for the first time this fall.

fireworks eve is gunfire night. cheers to all my friends in such situations. a thought to my nephew and his wife in st louis, where i spent a firework 4th of july. thinking gunfire cities all over the world.

halloween i like, costume'd, as always. guitars in cases. craigsnigans. screen eye. haven't taken a shot in a month. not feeling it, other than pursuit of capitalism. strange that i find comfort in that, at this end. two drinks in at what used to been,

i guess, i am, hearing it a little. fingers don't come down right now and then. something singular, arrogant and vulgar, no class. got some new guns. they might help. been keeping a very low wordcount and i'm gonna change that.

off movies for music (duh), and that dreary science of the unblinking  the hockey

swiss cheese burger at moderne tonight, very fine. burger and a shake.

much love to you all, still reading after all these years. on we go. up we get.



he's twice that size now.

t

When things aren’t going solidly with my own art, I can turn to intaking masses of culture instead. It feels lazy, but probably is more of a recharge than a vacation, or perhaps both. Right now it’s movies, as the NHL season fires up (a powerful distraction of mine also), I’m trying to get as much outdoor activity in as I can here in beautiful Squilax. Been out on the houseboat, and fiddling with the new hostel guitar (a well worn and friendly Montana acoustic), and trying to organize my own gear.

Movie hits would be ‘Beaufort’, ‘Morituri’, a pair of stellar (and very dark) anti war films (as opposed to ‘Saving Private Ryan’, which I would call a pro-war movie), ‘The Darjeeling Limited’, ‘Hellboy 2’ (which was much better than I expected), and ‘The Dark Knight’ (also, if only for the Joker).

Misses include ‘Burn After Reading’ (which I’d retitle ‘Burn Before Watching’ – a rare Cohen brothers flop) and the overhyped ‘Son of Rambo’. I guess my own expectations, when defeated, are a films worst critic. Better that I expect little, and am surprised. I’ve got a line of several fav’s to rewatch also – ‘Unbreakable’, ‘the Sixth Sense’, and ‘The Lives of Others' (see last blog).

So it is a good sign that between Rotem’s continuing inspiration and Nicholas bugging me, I’ve returned to blog. I’ll try and have some excitement to pass along also, and some photos too. Maintaining my flicr and facebook and all that has been a little much this summer, lets hope the fall brings a return to the books for me also.

much love;

t

ps – hey I do have some excitement – the Victoria band will break it’s longtime self imposed island exile with a Vancouver show at the Rickshaw Theater on Oct 23. Let your Vancouver humans know – we’ll be in top form for our debut !

watching the hostel late last night, got 'lives of others' on movie channel, the good one, with no commercials. amazing movie, one i'd heard about but likely would not have chased down. subtle and nuanced story about eighty's east germany, about a playwrite and his actress girlfriend and the secret policemen who surveil and harass them. highest recommend, it really touched me, a superlative work of art which speaks to the artist's perspective at many levels.

kittens dominate the hostel now, running new, throwing down books and anything on a shelf. cuteness = survival trait. i should know..)

the hostel has added two new staff, as zamboni has moved up to computer consulting, her pest control spot is now taken by referee and claymore (orange). named after equipment, as per hostel policy (massey, ferguson, zamboni, samsonite), they're in the adorable and explore it all stage. orienteering, i guess.

yesterday i finally made my attempt at spring falls, the water fall which comes down squilax mountain, in a ravine just east of the face that lord's over the hostel. deceiving name, since it's not water from the spring on the mt (which feeds the hostel the best tasting water you've ever had, year round), but from the spring run-off, as snow finally unkinks. for maybe ten years i've been eyeing it and saying i should climb up there and have a shower. it'll get late, and it'll stop being a waterfall, and i'll say, next year.

yesterday i looked over my crappy couple of weeks, and my dissatisfaction with everything, and about 3 i set out for the waterfall. it was slowing down the last week, not much snow anywhere, and i'd been letting the regular rains put me off. but in that magical way that something is decided, without internal debate, it was last afternoon, and off i went.

three things also been militating against this climb. first is, while spring run-off is generally pleasant (no flooding here), there's downsides to spring mountain climbing, notably the cougars with their young. they're hungry and they got mouths to feed. two, it's not a passion anyone else here at the hostel shares with me, so i'm going alone, which kinda makes reason one a little more potent. and finally, the last time i tried to climb squilax mountain i nearly died.

there's a fine blog on that subject, in my back pages somewhere, but darned if i can find it now. was thinking about it when i climbed yesterday, so i made some changes for attempt #2.

- most important - climb with the mt, not against it. no illusions that i'm going to conquer anything up there, and quite aware that this can kill me. i'm a fool by definition for doing this. hey, fifteen minutes of hard climbing will remind me, but knowing it from the start, i got wise to some essential preparations.

- take water, cel phone. tell someone where i'm going and when. you laugh, but i did none of those things last time. and, i take samson the hostel dog with me, not that he's going to do much if i hurt myself, but he'll put the cougars off, hopefully, since there's two of us (samson is a coward, and would last about thirty seconds vs a cougar, but the idea is that two of us won't have to deal with it). i also take my 'arkansaw toothpick', which isn't one of those legendary fighting knives (been reading some louis l'amour), but a hefty machete just short of a meter long. if i do end up vs a cougar, i want one blade that's longer than his 10, since the only chance i have, if it comes to that, is to convince him i can injure him enough to impede future hunting.

i load the dog in the truck and drive five minutes up the hill, to just below the traintracks. this is to disorient the dog, so he doesn't realize that there's this interesting place right across the highway, and thus get himself killed freelancing. i leash him up as we walk the traintracks to the point where i can see the falls, and the base of the avalanche path it streams down. get a couple of nice shots of a lizard on the rails, kindly freezing for the photo op. then up we go.

pretty early it's clear samson isn't really thrilled at the relentless vertical. having a sniff out of the animal trails, and thick coniferous suits him, but i'm all business and up we go. mostly climbing the stream, passing hundreds of gorgeous stones, making light of my waterbottle (and lack of food, not too bright), and occasional bushwacking, we climb hundred of meters. he scrambles, frequently drinks and rests his paws in the pools. i push him up a few hard spots, and he returns the favour by near missing me a few times with fair sized stones he dislodges. we figure it out pretty quick.

the mountain gets on your mind after an hour of this. there's no place to rest on a horizontal, it's all near dangerous incline, where you're pulling yourself up on tree branches, ducking and cursing, or carefully chosing which stone to grab next, knowing the large ones are the most stable, but also the most dangerous if not. looking back down where we've come doesn't help, the view is fearsome, and the tiny dots of the houses and fields across the river bring your insignificance home. looking up, now no sight of the falls, just endless rock and wood. the machete digs into my back when it catches on trees, and my fingers get rough and hardened to the slips and grabs.

another hour, hard breathing and stopping only for the photo op, or the drink, we look no closer to the goal. the mind drifts to the reality of this quest, there's no certainty that the falls are reachable or suitable for a stop if we can get there. samson loses me in the trench after a sidetrip and is fooled by the echo of my calls, so he heads down instead of up after me. it's ten minutes before he figures it out and catches up. the condor vultures who spend their day in endless circles high on the mt get closer, but there is no indication that the falls are anywhere close. we lose the stream twice as it goes underground, and climb in strange silence, over logs trapped by rocks and stripped as clean, as if by beavers, by the elements. lots of fallen trees, both dead and sometimes still living, brought down by rockfall. have to check the branches twice, as the deadfall will betray you and let you fall. green is good.

we pass a few rockeries, with thunder eggs and jade shot ex-lava. too many gorgeous specimens to take, not to mention how foolish it is to collect rock on the way up.... i can't resist a few. a few times i truly rock climb, cursing as this is not my strength or skill. mostly i go to the tree side and go branch to branch, literally climbing trees up the mountain. a single holdout bank of snow, hidden in the deep shadow. another hour goes past and the trees are thinning, and i catch a glimpse of the falls. still no sign that i can get close, indeed it's looking harder, as there are two paths of rockfall and the one which has the stream is too sheer for me to take. i work my way up the second path, closing on the rock face, and running out of trees. i can now clearly see adams lake, and captain's village marina on the shuswap, though i have to be careful on the loose footing to take pictures.

then suddenly we are not alone, there is a moutain sheep thirty meters up, giving us the once over before moving away, up the side too steep for the dog or i, right up to the falls and beyond. too quick for me to get to safe ground and get the camera out, but i am cheered by this visit. we're close, and his presence also means there's likely no cougars either.

i scramble over a couple of avalanche paths, and make the middle ground of trees between the two ravines. working higher i suddenly can see the falls, and yes there is a way in, and a place to be under them. indeed, the last fifty meters are quite reasonable, i can use the rock wall to hold, and take my last shots before the mist begins. with only towel and barechest i make the last rush, and find there's even an impression in the cliff face behind the falls where one can stand upright, and even could picnic if he was smart enough to bring food (note to self). i strip down and go take an icy shower, runoff water being just this side of freezing, as i look down on the tiny countryside below, and shiver. the dog sniffs around interested in the trails. a huge bald eagle circles a hundred meters below...

not many minutes rest, as i have the mountain and the descending sun on the brain (and have been longing to be home for several hours), so down we go. i learned from my near death experiences of the last climb, and take the same path down as we took up. this eliminates the near death, limiting it to a few short falls, and quick handgrips. the unused machete hangs, along with the stowed camera and leash.

down and down and down, via trees and sometimes on the rocky slides. since the danger in all of this is hitting my head, i am often on my ass sliding, using handholds to ensure that i only fall on my legs, ass or back. the vultures come in and give us a good look over, eight or more turning tight circles, their pink heads uglifying their huge black spans. i sing for them, and tell 'em the dog will eat me before they do, should i come to grief.

another hour, and i am very tired. doubly careful as i know this is the time i can make a bad mistake from fatigue, we finally see the rail tracks below, and double back to avoid the cliff which edges the CN created gully which shields them from the full runoff and slides. such a relief to walk on horizontal ground ! aching feet get us to the truck, and then down to the hostel again. i am exhausted, but know i climbed with the mountain and achieved the goal. my story and pictures convince three hostellers they will make the attempt tomorrow. the dog won't be so enthused when i invite him in the truck next time.

i will upload the photos here on a new album, tho i warn you they're not as spectacular as the real thing. i'd love a commentary from any of you climbing experts, to further point out my many mistakes. and if anyone finds the previous climb, in the blogs of the past archived here (it's be in the spring/summer, and in '06 or '07) then please leave the link in the comments, for all !

love;

t

ps - rotem, kerouac is a fine bukowski changeup - try 'desolation angels' or the newly released 'original scroll' version of 'on the road' (a huge improvement !). he's worth getting into. i'll get back to miller, on your reccomend, i think all i've done there is the 'tropic's'..... right now, it's a host of rockhound and boxing manuals...

click here for

the photos

hostel wants for cats, mouser lineage kittens, outdoor types, who won't upset the queen in retirement in residence. tall order, and for all the vets, buy and sell and craigslist/kijiji, none to be found. has zamboni figured out how to block 'em ? no.

it's the late spring. yeah, late spring, late kittens. nature comes late this year. well, i know it's going to be fun watching the dog with 'em, he's a gentle giant and would love to meet some cats who don't use him as a mobile scratching post. wonder if he'll bug 'em as much when they hunt as he does spala, hunting dog who visits....

the river rises, out canoeing yesterday, gathering beaver sticks, and looking for eagles. none. but the condor vultures are circling squilax mountain, and the canada geese trail a couple of chicks, which were half a dozen three days ago. there's other hunters than kittens out there.

what's it got to do with music ? well, the SG wails and boogies along to the conference finals, and some definition comes. soon to recording demos, and singing. i got a punching bag up in the caboose, can the sm58 workout be much longer ? zamboni's ears have retired, so even the guitar doesn't bother her much anymore.

behind on several orders of writings, but not managing to do the do list. looking for joy first. i'll let you know.

love;

t

one of the things that's stirring the blog interest again is the possibility of printing a 'best of' with some bridging material as my first book. if any of your have experience with self-publishing, let me know. i'm thinking whatever is reasonably priced, perhaps with a ten page photo section. not sure if photos are that important... i'm excited at the idea, though i'm old enough to know it'll be ten times the work i expect it to be.

speaking of ten times the work, yesterday i got my norway hockey jersey in the mail. i've been trying to get one of these for many years, and finally overcame the language issues, and the fact that norway doesn't sell hockey jersey's, since there's no interest. they do have some game worn ones left over tho, and i got johnny nilsen's 22 right here. norway makes up for their relative hockey insignificance (they qualified for the 2010 olympics men's in last place, which is actually a remarkable achievement for them, considering they produce about 1/100th the NHL level players sweden does) with an amazing red/blue jersey with a white polar bear crest. wow. and NO ONE has got one, since it took me 40 emails, two bank transfers and hundred of dollars to secure mine. i am experiencing the pleasure of a hard won victory. now bring on that socan cheque.

today i also relish the sending off of the victoria band's application for the victoria jazz society's vancouver island blues bash. we'd love to play it, and i think we got the cred, but cross your fingers for us, or even better - email the victoria jazz society

info@jazzvictoria.ca

and let 'em know we rock the blues. not going to make it into salmon arm this evening to see some bands at barry's place, but it's good to know he's got that going on. later this summer, we're going to be gigging again up here. much love to you all, have a great weekend !

rock on;

t

my hockey team, the vancouver canucks, bowed out of the playoffs with a game six loss last night, in one of the most entertaining hockey games i've ever seen. i managed to rise above the anger and recrimination to see it as that - entertainment, and an inspiration to do what my team was unable to do, rise to the occasion earlier.

grey threaten drizzle morning in squilax still beautiful, i get a beaver stick off the wharf as i check it, and find the sweater i wanted instantly in the new organization. today there's town errands to do, mail, library, and an application for the victoria blues bash to get done.

one positive is that when i'm stressed and watching hockey i play guitar to keep my hand occupied. out of that comes new progressions, and more often, variations on the old, since my head and soul are distracted. yesterday i came up with a subtle and pretty variation on the prechorus of 'st louis blues', a dissonant beauty made moreso. it's kinda like a much faster and more sectional 'llama face', and the new pc made me itch to teach it to a keyboard player. this new album has some fierce competition for what songs make the cut.

cat and dog both overnighted outside, summer is coming indeed.

love;

t

i can feel the dust on my blog stirring to a mighty cloud as i type this, like the beaver chewed sticks raise silt from the river edge when i rake 'em in. rotem's blog, not one of his best, still has prodded me enough today.

i've been pretty sick this winter, so blogging has been a casualty. i'm back in squilax, now beginning the positive process of organizing all my possessions in the caboose i'll call home for many months now. friday i untangled the knot of cables that has been sitting in my gear box for years, testing every one and throwing out the crackles.

no shows for a while, trying to make sense of the whole and focus on the desperately needed new album. it's hard to get back to this equally dusty habit of writing and rewriting. today, as dull on a monday as any wage slave i watch the cat scar the window, looking for reentry, and consider the naked photo i got in the mail. a good start for a monday. music still pays my bills. c'mon, tea, kick in.

guitars, f/x boxes, grants, an august tour, which of these can i bring to life. first, this. and to love the taste of free'd dust.

love;

t