So I think it's time to find a new home for my electric violin. I'm selling it and if you or someone you know are interested, email me k.

. . . Vector 'Millennium Series' Electric Violin
 
This particular design of Vector violin (Nova Scotia, Canada) no longer exists so it's officially one of few!  I bought this violin in 2000 in Toronto then toured here there and everywhere with it for eight years.  I performed with it in every imaginable local, from small theatres to massive music festival main stages to rock clubs and jazz venues and beyond.  Previously to its incarnation as a vagabond’s sidekick it was under the bow of a Toronto Symphony Orchestra member.  This to say, it comes with songs! and a case.
 
I replaced the pick-up with an LR Baggs and installed an additional chin rest support, otherwise it is how it was. This violin is an opera singing road warrior.
Pictures are available in my myspace album Fiddle for Sale. To find out more about all the vector series violin/viola/cello/bass check out www.vectorinstruments.com

for more info please contact Captain Dirt via email at:
lyndell@lyndellmontgomery

mourning doves outside in the manitoba maple tree are letting me know that the sun is up again.  There is another day to be had.
the world did not collapse, stop rotating or freeze over while I was sleeping, so I best get up and make coffee.
i've been told three times in the last 36 hours that i am sad.  I am being woken to mourning doves everyday.
perhaps I have taken on their song.

I still get up and make the coffee
feed the cat
open the back door and stand in its frame
but they are right
those three who spoke of sadness
I am muted

the mornings I have been far from that pair of doves
far from their perpetual mourning
those have been the best ones.
the mornings waking beside her
a creature with so many sounds

this first morning the was no waking or rising to be had. Sleep had not bothered to come
the second morning I watched her fold and put away what had ended up on her floor the night before
I fold my shirts differently now. 
the third morning i lay against her in the hasty nest we built and listened
so much birdsongs pouring in the window crack
none or them mourning doves

she speaks to me now of beavers skinning the the surface of the
swollen river. Of spring birds singing with exaltation, having found
their way home. Of sunrise fox trot sightings. And there is no way
to convey to her just how appropriate the timing of her expression is.
foxes slink, time slinks . . . and now here we both are, ten years
later, standing at the intersection of history and future. the
crossroads of urban and rural. the causeway of truth.

I've only seen a beaver in it's natural habitat once in my lifetime
thus far. She sees them often.
not surprising, she always did see things first.
I picture her standing river side while the spring run off surges
past. i imagine her channelling the power of the coursing water.
Placing it's surge in her satchel for future use. A medicine woman,
a hunter, gathering life force even when the well is dry

She is crouching riverside in a red dress. She speaks in Maltese to
the beaver. Italian to the river. English to the pilliated
woodpecker, but she is reduced to silence when the sun drips orange
from the sky and stars take their charge in the night sky. She is
the constellations, the stillness, the dew. She is born anew each
time she allows silence to enter her, precise in its knowledge of how
to guide her. For those fortunate enough to be witness to her
waking, we too are charged with a renewed wonder of life. An
unrelenting urge to go deeper into the forest, for it is the act of
courage that will lead to discovery. And if we need to find our way
to safety, anchor ourselves on the shores of familiar, she has broken
branches, we need only be aware and astute enough follow the path
back home. She is unrelenting truth. Breath deep and plunge deeper.

the world is spinning too fast
i get motion sick too easy
seeking something solid
i grabbed your hips bones
hoping to anchor myself
eventually they started shifting
then they moved to china
rolling and thrusting
bucking and chucking
i was tossed off,
i ran to the toilet to spew
i missed
you

i made it back down to Shillong from Aizawhl, Mizoram and wow was it ever
a trip! We nearly fell off a one lane temporary
bridge cuz the bus couldn't swing wide enough to avoid taking out the
bridge railing. One of the two back tire was hanging above the raging
river 50 ft below! We weren't on the bus at the time but even watching it
try and get across this damn bridge was nerve wracking. It made it to the
other side tho, we aplauded the driver and forged on. After a few more
hours an insane monsoon storm rolled in. I went to watch from the front
cab of the bus and saw the following.

Imagine an ocenliner, run aground 4000ft above sea level. Imagine the
hull cracking and then gallons and gallons and gallons of water the colour
of double double escaping from her belly, pouring down the mountain side.
The water organizes itself into rogue rivers that hurl themselves towards
a valley somewhere, anywhere, and then finally the sea.

The roaring sky, black as the plumes of exhaust that puff like a cigar
from the tailpipe of the bus. The bus with no wipers and a windscreen
that was as foggy as a halifax fall morning. It's the driver's 23rd
consecutive bettle nut sponsored hour behind the wheel and he's showing no
sign of pulling over or letting up on the gas pedal anytime soon.

Through steamy windows sillouetted trees bend like expert contortionists
to a wailing concerto of wind and water pelts the eath with life. Somehow
despite the extreme driving conditions, I feel as peaceful as a sunday
afternoon perched in the cab of the bus, knees tucked up to my chest, ass
flat as a crepe, rain dripping thru a dodgy seal in the roof vent and
landing with globular thuds on my legs.

Remnants of recent land and mud slides lay in broken piles on the road's
edge rendering the one lane thoroughfare nearly impassable. With extreme
control and a whole lot of divine intervention the driver manouvers the
bus up, over, around, thru and we plow on down the mountain.

Past villages where boys and men bathe their carrier trucks and themselves
with a hose fed by a thundering waterfall while goats, chickens, pigs,
dogs and kids look on. Past one room bamboo huts and tin shacks. Past 2
story buildings and brightly painted bungalows. Past women carrying
bulbous tin pots of water on their heads, babies strapped to their backs.
Past the smell of afternoon tea right into the fire crackling auroma of
dinner. past mountain slopes of gardens that step all the way to the
valley floor. Past one room shacks made level on the steep mountains only
with the aid of tall stilts. Stilts thin as heron legs and sturdy as my
conviction to return to here some day. Past tea plantations and bananna
groves. Around a hairpin turn then chugging, chugging, chugging up the
back of the nexst mountain. On one side of the bus a 90 degree slope up
and on the other side a 90 degree drop down. Tires spinning through bogs
of mud, the rear end slipping like a drink from drunkards hand and then
the desperate lurch of the wheels hitting solid ground throwing us forward
again.

Forward to Shillong where I am now tucked into an internet cafe thinking
about the fact that my trip is coming to a close. Three
more shows remain then I will be heading home to Dalkeith! Home to a
garden that's ready for planting. Home to watch the cardinal couple build
a nest and douse themselves in spring sunlight. Home to silence and raw
food! home, but until then I am so happy to be sending love from India still.

i have just stepped out from the quiet tranquil village into the bustling
city
of allepey. Polarity.

Yesterday was totally amazing. We met some
local
kids the day prior while on an outing. As we were canoeing past their hut and
they threw flowers into our boat and asked if we had any pens (an item that's
in high demand for school purposes). We didn't, but I made a mental note
that
i would take them the one I have with me for journal writing. The following
day (yesterday)as we walked in the direction of their home, they came running
down the path and said in english (at 10 and 12 yrs respectively, they speak
english better than any of the village adults) that we are invited to their
home. We walked hand in hand with them to their house.

Their home is the true definition of simple. we're talking a one room woven
bamboo hut with a thached roof that's jut tall enough for me to stand upright
inthe middle. indoor fire for cooking and mats rolled up in the corner that
come out at night. The whole family, 6 in total, sleep together on the
floor.
They have a few chickens, two acres of rice fields (which yeild about 3
tonnes
of rice twice a year and sells for 8 rupees a kg) and they fish the
waterways.
Every tree in this village bears some kind of edible item be it a fruit or a
root that can be steamed.
The kids immediately had us sit down and they served us some kind of sweet
fruit
juice...jane and i looked at each other and decided that anything given with
such kindness and pure intent surely wouldn't harm us in any way. we were
right and our bodies accepted the liquid as though we had consumed it all our
lives. They showed us everything in their home one item at a time. School
books (they are on summer break right now) toothbrushes, a clock, a
mirror, two
cooking pots, sleeping mats, a steamer trunk full of clothing a jewelry and
their most pized possession...photos wrapped in multiple plastic bags.
Pictures of their family over the years taken by foreigners like ourselves
and
mailed back to them. We will be sure to do the same.

then they asked us to go swimming with them...what the hell. why not! we
jumped in the water and splashed about with them for nearly an hour. I
suspect
that not many foreigners come her to begin with, but then even fewer
actually go
in the water. it was a brave move for me, not because I was unsure of the
cleanliness of the water (which I was) but because a few minutes earlier I
had
witnessed a water snake about 4 ft long grab a fish between it's jaws and
slither into a hole on the embankment with the fish writhing and twisting.
After only a few moments in the water, we had gather quite the audience of
beaming adults. at first we coudn't tell if they thought we were nuts or
just
having a good time watching us be amazed by them and their lives! Turns out
they were happy about the interaction and really just wanted us to play music
for them when we got out of the water! We were only to happy to comply.

On our walk home, we were stopped at nearly every hut and asked to play for
people. everyone was asking for more music more music! truly the universal
language eh. When we arrived home to our simple but extravagant in
comparison
hut, to find dinner was waiting for us. 5 different dishes prepared by
Satesh
who is a fucking phenominal cook. He let us film him cooking and I look
forward to trying it out at home! I think that the way the food is cut is
just
as if not more important than the cooking of it. One knife (sharp A lie), one
coconut grater and one wok, yet what appeared on the table were 5 very
different dishes each of them totally divine.

that evening jane and i sat on the wharf and watched a rainbow stretch across
the entire sky, from one horizon to the other. Fish were jumping, islands of
green floliage floated past and rain poured down warm and cleansing. I
think I
may have touched perfection for even the briefest of moments.

Now, I am crawling in the ant nest madness of a huge city. India is a bit
like
that I am learning. Extreme polarity. It seems that no matter where I go
tho,
my heart finds it's way to the villages where one can actualy meet and
interact
with people on a base level. For people that have almost nothing, they are
brimming over with love and joyousness. I feel humbled by it all to say the
least.

As I mentioned, Jane and i just left our tropical paradise today and are
about
to step onto a house boat for today and tonight then we will take a local bus
(quite an adventure let me say!) back to Cochi. We will spend an
afternoon and
evening with some friends we made last week and then fly to Bombay where
jane's
good mate Baan is expecting us. He has a swank apartment and heaps of
recordig/electronic gear. My life is very high contrast at the moment!
We are
hoping that amidst the electronic gear at Bhans, there will be a cable
that we
can download pics with. fingers crossed. Otherwise, if you're so
inclined,you
can check out www.ricegardenkerala.com. It's a one dimensional version of a
four dimensional experience.

i am having a great time with jane. she's easy to travel with and we're
having
such a good time meeting local people and getting in with it all, that we're
not playing a lot of music. crazy eh! we have written a few mad riffs, but
mostly we're gather adventures to put in our musical stew and one day it will
get served up.

India take 1

let me just start by saying that there is no way I will be able to
accurately convery the adventure i am having here in india. i am also
working from a very dodgy computer that may disintigrate at any moment so
if this reaches you, then I do believe in miracles!

I am at present in Allepey which is in the south western portion of India.
It's in the state Kerala which is a tropical lush state that produces
lots of tea, coffee, rice, fruits and veg. There is a large timber
industry here in Allepey as well and it's not uncommon to see trucks
loaded with felled trees on their way to very simple but effective mills.

My home for last night and the next few to come is a thatched bamboo hut
that's located at the tip of a penninsula, accessable only by boat or a
long long long hike through rice fields! The hut is perched on the edge of
a river/waterway. In total, there are 900km's of waterways that snake
inland from the coast. On this particaular river, there are what could
easily be mistaken for small islands! of floating foliage that drift
lazily with the current. Ornate pink and purple blossoms poke up through
the green and are twice as stunning with the contrasting dark water and
palm trees as a back drop. Behind the hut are rice fields. miles and
miles of rice fields. They are dotted with tiny specks of vibrantly
coloured sari's as women tirelessly tend to the crops.

Last night there was a monstorous thunderstorm and I sat with jane on the
front porch of our house watching globs of torrential rain bounce off the
river filling the entire frame of my vision with mist. sillohouetted palm
trees swayed in the wind and one got the sense that the earth's canvas was
being washed clean to prepare for the masterpiece of tomorrow.

Indeed it is a masterpiece. I woke this morning at about 7am to birdsong
unlike any I've heard to date. Makes sense that the birds here would use
an different scale of notes to express their joyous exhaltations!

Jane and I are the only two people staying at this location and we are
being showered with kindness as well as being spoiled by some of the best
food I've ever savoured. curry and orka and banannas and dahl and
beetroot salad and fermented rice cakes don't necessarly sound that
appealing when they are just words in an email, but let me assure you that
we are being fully spoiled.

Today we are in town for a couple of hours to gather some supplies (read
toilet paper!, postcards, water, cell phone recharge card, internet
action, pawpaw and the like) before we head back to our little hut for a
couple days of total solitude. We have aquired two really dodgy accoustic
guitars that stay in tune for the most part and no doubt they have some
quirky song in them waiting to be discovered. So, that's the cruisy plan
for the next few day...kick back and play music, read books, eat stellar
food, watch bats flit around, paddle a canoe, perhaps go on tour of the
neighbouring rice plantation and smile with gratitude that this is my very
blessed life at present.

********************

 

1.got up at 8:36am, made earl grey tea with rice milk

2. the ground is still pliable here in Ontario so I took some cuttings I gather at my mom's place in BC and planted them in the kidney shaped perennial garden

3. dug up a deceased fox that I burried a several months ago and cleaned it (aka, boiled it) until it was white and smooth. Discovered that it had been hit by a car and part of the right skull, shoulder and ribs were crushed.  Somehow it managed to crawl from the road to the middle of a corn field before collapsing to die

4. cleaned up fallen branches from around the property.  Discovered a large maple branch that must have snapped off in a mother of a wind storm.  Decided to make it into a coat rack. Spent most of the afternoon using power tools.  I now have one very cool coat rack.

5. cooked food,

6.sewed some draft stoppers for the bottom of doors and filled them with green lentils.

7. Feeling angsty so I watched G.I.Jane for the 8th time and drank JD.

8. it's now 3:28am and I am writing my first ever blog.  perhaps in the future I should be sober and articulate when/if I do this again.

lm