Monday, December 29, 2003

I have been surprisingly busy this week, with little computer access. I can't wait until Evergreen opens back up as I rely on their fast and friendly computers.

Today is sunny and beautiful and I'm feeling okay again. Depression has had the upper-hand this winter, but with the days getting longer again, my 33rd birthday, and a new year at the doorstep I feel hopeful again. Plus, I just played a couple lucrative shows and received some birthday/Christmas cash! I wish I had more time to write about the gifts that friends and family have given me and the shows I just played... but no dice. I'll try again tomorrow.

Friday, December 26, 2003

Merry Christmas! I've been having a hard time getting to a computer of late. I'm in the downtown library right now.

My doctor told me this morning that my groin injury is probably a minor hernia. Besides that I'm healthy.

I don't have time to write more than this.

Sunday, December 21, 2003

Happy Hanukkah, everybody, and Solstice!

I have been bed-ridden for the last sixty hours. It's been seven or eight years since I've been this ill. I've spent all day today wondering if I'm in heaven or hell, but the Solstice could explain that. It's the shortest day of the year but that means the days will start getting longer, too. I truly need some sunshine. Won't someone fly me to Greece, or Mexico, or Utah?? At least I didn't puke-- it was more of a severe cold than a flu. I had feverish dreams and my body ached all over. Today is nice and warm. Friday I missed work at the UPS store. I showed up but they sent me home which was probably good, but I wanted to earn the money. Tomorrow I'll collect my paycheck of fifty-eight hours.

Thursday, December 18, 2003

"Hey ladies, Sandy Clause is back and ready to mack. I'm as single as Kris Kringle and ready to mingle. I've got balls that jingle and a mistletoe halo. I make sugar walls tingle from Missy E. to J. Lo. Grab your shopping carts 'cause I'm breakin' hip hop hearts, poppin' cherry pop tarts and callin' it punk rock Pop Art in Carharts!"

Sorry, I just had to let Slippery out for a little jog. He's been bangin' his can on my cage for a while now. I will try to stuff him back in there soon but it may prove challenging as he "borrowed" a bottle of viagra from my neighbor, Ray, and won't stop howling!

It's weird.

Anywow, Liz and I had a wonderful dinner at Ramblin' Jack's tonight and decided to be friends. Only friends. Which is always better. Though Slippery would disagree.

Wednesday, December 17, 2003

Another day bundling gifts and stuff at the UPS store. Perhaps I should change my email to: Get it-- wrapping? As in wrapping presents?

p.s. I might be getting sick, maybe. And why is my right butt-muscle spasming?!

Monday, December 15, 2003

The world is moving faster than I can keep up with. Saddam, etc. A lot of hard-ons about that. "He didn't even put up a fight". I'm waiting for some straight-up hand-to-hand combat with Dick Cheney before I really start getting delirious though. Who'd win?! What about Osama vs. Reagan-- that would be tragi-comic 'cause Bin Laden's on dialysis or something and Ronnie's got Alzheimer's.

Cynicism aside, I've been burning the candle at both ends lately. I played a show last night and worked ten hours today with barely a break. The boss said it was the busiest day in twelve years at the UPS store. This whole week should start tapering off, but maybe not until Wednesday.

Saturday, December 13, 2003

It's 4:29 am and I am listening to The Harder They Come soundtrack. There's a party goin' on and here I am on the computer. I love computers.

Friday, December 12, 2003

I have the weekend off! Today, at work, the computer system broke down. There was mayhem. One customer threatened to sue our boss for a heart-attack she had after visiting our store. Now I'm at Liz's listening to The Police and eating chilli.

Thursday, December 11, 2003

I remembered a couple of my other favorite cds-- Joni Mitchell's Blue, Prince's Purple Rain, Randy Travis' Wind in the Wire, Ferron's Tesitimony, LL Cool J's Mama Said Knock You Out and Radio, Stevie Wonder's Innervisions, and anything by Mary J. Blige, Angie Stone, or Musiq. Half of everything by Hank Williams, Beat Happening, Lauryn Hill, and Eminem, and two-fifths of everything by Woody Guthrie, Jonathan Richman, and Greg Brown. I've only scratched the surface... (I'm not mentioning my friends, except for Bret and Calvin from Beat Happening).

I received a call yesterday from Dick at the UPS store who wanted me to come in and start work immediately. I'd checked back last week and they said I was out of luck for this holiday season, so I was surprised to get the call. I'd already told my friend Ben I'd help him move stuff for the Children's Museum yesterday, so I had to wait until today to start with UPS. I haven't asked how much they pay yet because I'm afraid to find out; I'm bracing myself for something under $8/hr. My job is helping customers which is challenging since I know nothing of this type of work; plus the lines are long and impatient. I'm quickly learning how to operate a till, a touch-sensitive computer-screen, and a credit card machine. I have to pack boxes for customers, put away mail, send faxes, and keep the store stocked with envelopes, etc. My head aches a little. I originally thought I'd be packing packages into a truck or something-- not customer service! Oh well, I like stretching my brain out now and then and hopefully I'll catch up with last month's rent. For better or worse the job ends in eight days.

I shaved my mustache today but the evil mutton-chops remain. I look like Wolverine, from X-Men.

Tuesday, December 09, 2003

The last two nights I've taken solitary baths in the basement, claw-foot bathtub. I turn out the lights and listen to Jeff Buckley's Grace album. Grace and D'Angelo's Voodoo are the two albums that I can listen to hundreds of times and never get sick of; they get better. I want to record an album like that someday. The Soul Stirrers with Sam Cooke and Blood on the Tracks (Dylan) rank just as high, but I haven't been listening to those ones lately. Play me anything by Led Zeppelin, Fleetwood Mac's Rumours, Bob Marley's Kaya or Michael Jackson's Off the Wall and I'm happy as a bug in a tub.

The Portland trip got cancelled yesterday. I think we'll go Thursday instead. Instead I watched Peter Seller's The Bobo, with Andras, which is now my new, most favorite movie ever. It's about a smooth-talkin' singing matador.

I earned $115 today, chopping up trees for Greg.

Monday, December 08, 2003

Does anyone know the difference between a "diamond cd-r" and a regular cd-r? I'm about to bulk order 500 cd-r's and want to make sure that they're of highest quality. Some say 24X80, or 40X80, etc. What does it all mean?

Last night I watched Super Troopers with Liz. It's funny.

Today I'm driving to Portland with Andras to meet a big-shot record producer.

Sunday, December 07, 2003

Another wild weekend comes to a close. It started Friday at the "Wine and Chocolate Decadence Party" where I raved 'til 3 am. Yesterday was the big ABC House show. Chad and I rocked our best set yet. My friend Earl's friend, Daniel (from North Hampton), played, too, and afterwards he and I went downtown and shot pool at the East Side Tavern until closing time. Now, he and I are good pals. I'm wearing his band's shirt right now, which is called S.H.Ar.Q. Daniel is on a mega-U.S.-tour around the perimeter of the mainland and he's headed to Portland now.

Yesterday I met with a friend who is phasing out his music career and deciding to try his hand at artist management and booking. He's interested is trying me out as his first client. He feels that he has a good bead on what needs to happen to launch my career. As of now a manager-deal would stand at this-- he will get 15% of my profits as long as he is managing me. This includes shows, merchandise sales, etc. If at some point he finds me a more qualified manager who could make my career even more successful and I agree then he would continue to get 5% of my profits for up to ten more years after we end our partnership, if I decide to stay with the new manager who he sets me up with. I now need to do some research to find out if this is standard procedure. If anyone has any experience here, please share it. I've known him for ten years now and believe strongly in his integrity. Obviously, I need someone's help and with his particular expertise and guidance it's not hard to imagine that by next year this time I'll be touring steadily and making up to $1000 per gig. Another of his ideas is to re-record my best songs over the years and have a top-notch, career-defining album to peddle by spring of 2005. My life as a professional musician has a shot at shifting into overdrive within the next six-months. Am I ready? Yes, I think... better than the dance I'm doing now.

And finally, this from Canton, Ohio: "You rock, man and so does your new cd. Holy shit - Ben and I love it! As a matter of fact, I gotta say, it's one of your best yet..." R.B. She's referring, of course, to A Year in the Life of Slippery Goodstuff! Don't procrastinate people-- this cd is fresh, and you must hear it before it's too late. The holiday season will be over in the blink of an eye. Put down your egg nog, I say, and send your loose change to the sandiest rappin' cowboy west of the continental divide. (Scroll down to the November 12th entry for more info). Click here for mailing-address.

Thursday, December 04, 2003

I have upset at least two people by putting their private thoughts in this journal for all to read. I will quit this bad habit. Sorry. As for my biggest bad habit of all I returned to the poker tables, after three weeks, to play in the Third Annual Martin Apartments Poker Tournament. It's a Texas Hold 'Em freeze-out game. It lasted seven hours and when all was said and done I reigned supreme. Due to borrowing money from others to play (on the agreement that they'd get a percentage of the potential winnings) my profit was only $75. In other circumstances my profits could have been up to $150. My goal is to now phase out this past-time and spend Wednesday nights doing something better with my time.

Wednesday, December 03, 2003

I'll be playing a show this Saturday at my house with other bands (see homepage). Show starts at 8 pm... or so. You are invited!

Tuesday, December 02, 2003

My friend David gave me some work this morning doing janitorial duties at the Martin Apartments which he manages. I earned $25 for two hours of work and then spent the afternoon with my other pal, Jonah, looking for stamps and ink to apply to our respective cdr's that we are manufacturing. As of yet, I've been handwriting "Slippery Goodstuff"/ "Sandman" on the discs with a red sharpie. Hopefully, now, they will look better. The design(s) I've chosen will be a mystery...

I send my love to you all. I know that cookies or money would be better, but love is really all you need. Which reminds me... why has the song "Nowhere Man" been stuck in my head for the last twelve hours? I'm not even a Beatles fan. Which triggers another random anectdote: Apparently Bob Dylan recently called a friend of mine and asked her to be on his new cd. She hung up on him, thinking it was a joke, until he called back and explained that he was sincere. She is a great blues guitarist from Houston and her name is Carolyn Wonderland.

Monday, December 01, 2003

My mom emailed me a description of a dream she just had:

"I had a dream Thanksgiving night about finding that I owned a huge pile of beautiful multi-colored sand. The color orange predominated, but the sandpile radiated many colors. As I looked at it, I felt content and happy. I was also puzzled, because I knew the pile was too heavy to move anywhere; I knew it would have to stay where it was... As I contemplated it, I knew it was right for me. I removed a beautiful orange, gold-embroidered cloth that lay on it... But the sand was serenely beautiful even without the cloth, and I knew it belonged with me and I with it."

As for me I dreamed that Yogi Berra, the ancient ex-Yankees catcher, sent me a package of old stuff he'd been storing in his attic. Everything was dusty and his handwriting was difficult to read which made him that much more endearing.
My rent is now two months overdue so I hope I get a job immediately. UPS let me know they won't be needing me. The brewery was closed today but they remain my best hope. This all weighs heavily on me. December settles in. In the Spring I bet I will be singing like a meadow lark, but now I grumble like a bear.

Sunday, November 30, 2003

I have returned, though, perhaps only partially. The molecules in my brain have been rearranging and there is really no telling in what stage I reside. I have been reading Khalil Gibran's The Prophet, and Nikos Kazantzakis' Zorba the Greek. (Coincidentally, both these authors were born in 1893.) Many synchronistic events have been occurring lately. I am exploring new worlds. I have a new lover whose name is Liz. She's a lioness with burgundy hair and a solar-green eyes: a 26-yr-old dee jay and masseuse. There's more, of course, to be revealed in time. Our relationship is cautiously unfolding... a winter-time slow-dance. I also have a new band, or three. The first, and most mind-expansive, with Jason Traeger which could be described as an instrumental metal-band. We call ourselves the Smith Group. The second is just me with drummer Chad Austinson. We are subtle and solid and do more country stuff. The third is with Jonah Carpenter and Shawn Parke and is hip hop. We have yet to practice. This is the band that will perform songs from A Year in the Life of... Slippery Goodstuff.

Speaking of Slippery, the orders continue to arrive almost daily and the responses continue to be positive. One female listener thought I got soft towards the end and asked for more "bitches and hos" and "nasty" stuff. I'm open-minded, but underfunded. Doing the "bitch/ho" thing doesn't come off too naturally as of yet, though, so patience, patience my delirious hardcore audience. Be pleased with what I have mustered. Random question: Have you ever heard of "man mustard"? It's a phrase my poker pals use regularly.

By the way, I'm trying very hard to end my gambling addiction. It has brought me a sad harvest this year. Of all addictions I should be saddled with... poker!? It could be worse, true.

I spent Thanksgiving in Oregon with my cousin Kirby and his wife, Megan. Megan made the best meal ever. They just bought a fine house on a hill overlooking Corvallis. We watched many movies and some basketball. The drive back to Oly was treacherous and I repeated the "Hail Mary" again and again as I hydroplaned left and right to the rhythm of squeaky windshield wipers. The driver's-side window is still broken and so the car acts as a mini shower-stall in heavy rains. (Note to mom: I'm exaggerating a little so don't worry. I am dedicated to living a long, vigorous life.)

p.s. Being in this computer lab for so long has me ready to defenestrate the otiose digerati. I feel like they and I are antipodes. But then I’d have to pick up the pellucid cullet which I don’t really have time for. Rather I will take care of my borborygmus and leave. Sorry to embrangle you with these new words I’ve been learning.

Friday, November 21, 2003

My friend Emily sent me a care package from Minnesota filled with homeopathic remedies and flower essences for my groin injury and other things. She also recommended that I attempt writing love songs to myself or others, so I started with her. Here's to Emily the Healer:

Emily, you prairie womyn
Heartland lover and queen of small animals
Birds hover (over silent rivers)
Butterflies form halos
and silos shimmer

In your sunlight.

The groundhog has returned to her grassy shadow.
The grasshopper has cracked open a beer.
The antelope have swum to St. Paul.

We all love you, O Prairie Womyn.
...and thank you for your mystery.

My poetry is probably too flowery to be any good, so that's why I stick to rhymes. If it helps me to heal, though, I'll do it.
This one's hot off the press: "Hi Chris, I got the new album in today, it is totally AMAZING! To be honest it gets better everytime I listen to it, which I can't say for many of the records I've bought recently. I'm thinking about ordering a few copies as Christmas gifts for my friends. I'll probably need around five or six but I'll let you know next week or so the exact number..." Aaron Boushour- Missoula, MT.

You all probably think I'm making up these letters to encourage you to buy my cd. Not so. It is merely by the pure magnificence of the sonic beast Shawn and I have created that these appreciative and uncontained ejaculations occur. May you also experience this phenomenon. Shalom.

Thursday, November 20, 2003

It's sad about Michael Jackson. It dawned on me that this ordeal might put an end to him if found guilty as I don't foresee him allowing himself to go to prison. What if aliens have been studying him, probing him, and experimenting on him? What if they turned his face pale and operated on his flesh? What if he has been telling the truth all along?!

The world will feel weird without Michael Jackson.
(The world feels weird already.)
Poor, sad Michael Jackson. Please don't die.

I still like you.

Wednesday, November 19, 2003

I'm keeping myself busy. Finished mudding and drywalling the downstairs music room, today, and primed one wall. My shoulder is fatigued. Tomorrow I'll help my pal, Andras, move into the Martin apartments. He and Heidi are divorcing after eleven years. (Are these things private? ...guess not.) Andras is a great musician and actor and you might enjoy his website.

The orders are trickling in for Slippery Goodstuff. Soon it shall be a waterfall.
Today I helped turn Nerviz's pump-house into a studio. I spent two hours cleaning out spiders and dust and wasps and junk from the attic and then insulated it, along with the windows. Soon it will be the greatest little recording studio in the world!

Also, I sent off the second round of the "Slippery" letter. I can only send fifty a day on my hotmail account so I have to wait twenty-four hours each time. On Saturday the task will be complete.

Monday, November 17, 2003

Uffda. My weekend was crazed. Played two very contrasting shows. The first on Whidbey Island where I sang outside next to the bay around a campfire and earned $100 (and was fed a gourmet salmon dinner). The second in Olympia at a smoky bar where I earned $4, (and had to pay $3 for my only drink of the night). The second show wasn't a complete disappointment, though, because I played it with drummer Chad Austinson. We did a predominantly country set and dressed the part. For it being our first show as a duo, we did well.

I have a cold and the weather is gloomy today. Saturday night I stayed up until 7:00 am and then woke up an hour later for a house meeting Sunday. In other words I only slept one hour in forty starting Saturday morning.

p.s. I edited last week's letter. Scroll down to see the changes. I may send it out today!

Thursday, November 13, 2003

I've edited yesterday's letter a bit. Thanks to you all for your letters of advice. Don't be afraid to write again if you see changes that could make it even better.

Wednesday, November 12, 2003

Hi, Everyone,

Chris Sand here, aka Sandman, aka Montana's Rappin' Cowboy. Many of you are my friends and family and some others of you are fans that have signed past mailing lists as I rolled through your hobo camps, gambling halls, opium dens, and bordellos. In fact it was in these houses of ill repute that I honed my skills as a writer of bawdy lyrics. In Spokane, Washington, at a drop-in Gamblers Anonymous meeting, I ran into a fellow whose life experiences were unlike any I've ever encountered. We immediately struck up a great and lasting bond. His name was George Hamilton Small. With the collaborative help of producer, Shawn "Nerviz" Parke, I've created a cd documenting his meteoric rise and fall as a self-made sperm baron.

This parental-advisory-stickered hip hop album is titled A Year in the Life of Slippery Goodstuff. It's my favorite creation to date and also the most affordable. I've realized I can reach my goal of selling 10,000 copies by New Year’s Day, 2005, more quickly if I drop the price to $10, so that's what I've decided to do. And if you choose to purchase more than one, future copies will only cost $6. For ten or more the price drops again, to $5 each. Hopefully you’ll find that it’s the perfectly priced holiday or birthday gift.

A Year in the Life of Slippery Goodstuff is real old-school hip hop. Besides the incredible beats laid down by Nerviz, it features the turn-tablism of Blandow Charismium and many and varied back-up vocal cameos by such Northwest indie-rock luminaries as Anna Oxygen, Khaela Maricich, Cindy Wonderful, Sarah Adorable, Susan Ploetz, and Jen Grady.

Here are a few of the unsolicited responses the album has received so far:

"Chris, Camo played the Slippery G tracks that you sent him to me and Asher last night. All I can say is, Holy sh*t!!! We were blown away. It hurt my face from laughing so much. Your falsetto singing was incredible... I can totally see this becoming an album like the Beastie Boys first one, the kind that everybody listens to so much they memorize all the words. Never heard anything like it, but it's perfectly you, my man! I'm saying DAMN, it is f***ing astonishing!!! Keep on!" Giles O'Dell, (Florida)

"I've listened to Slippery Goodstuff several more times, enjoying it more every time, and paying more attention to the story line. Although I can understand how your listeners might get err... distracted. In any case I'm a big fan of your epic tale and the postmodern hero/cowboy Slippery
Elle in Winona, MN

"Chris, we got the Slippery c.d. I sat down and listened to it today. I think it's . . . shocking, crass, blatantly sexual, funny, poignant, brave, smart, and musically delightful. . . The women's voices are beautiful and work perfectly with yours. . . I don't know who I can ever share this c.d. with, but I look forward to listening to it again [with the volume turned quite low in this thin-walled apartment complex :-)]." Love, Mom (North Dakota)

Here's all you have to do to order one or more copies:

Email me. My address is
Or send check or money order to: Chris Sand/ 105 N. Sherman/ Olympia, WA 98502. Include your return address and a note letting me know which cds you want, and how many.

$10 for the first A Year in the Life of Slippery Goodstuff (plus $2 shipping).

$6 for each additional (add 25 cents for shipping per copy).

If you order before Christmas, I'll include my beautiful April-released, folk album The Long Ride Home (Knw-Yr-Own Records) for $8 postage-paid. To save plastic and expense I did away with jewel-cases on this edition and instead use attractive handmade cd-sleeves.

Or you might rather own...

Oil Grab, which is a very popular seven-song, anti-war compilation which features two more of my raps: "The Senator Strikes Back (Sand vs. Bush)" and "The Scapegoat Song". If ordered along with a Slippery cd you can have it for $7 postage-paid. Or perhaps you crave…

The classic 1997 release, Love’s Hangover Sale, for $12 postage-paid-- (or all three for $25 if ordered along with A Year in the Life of Slippery Goodstuff!!)

Time is of the essence. I hope to hear from you soon ; ).

Sincerely, Chris "Sandman" Sand

Tuesday, November 11, 2003

Hello World,

As I was browsing the web for new reviews I found this one:

Reviewer: Bannister Bergen from Los Angeles

"The Sandman is very simply, an island of musical originality in an industry of over-produced, studio-manufactured trite. A lyrical genius, his unique blend of folk, rap & country is a refreshing change to the stagnant waters of country/western music, and manages to magically combine 2 genres which have been at war for years.

This album focuses specifically on his folk talents, and seems to pay homage to the classic country music of the past (as opposed to the pop-stylings of today). No folk, or country collection is complete without this diamond in the rough."

Thank you Bannister. I'm tempted to play down your comments but won't; (wait 'til you hear Slippery, though).

Monday, November 10, 2003

More job searching today.

Why is commitment so difficult? I don't want to end up like Peter Pan, the eternal boy-man. Heck, even Michael Jackson has been married and has kids. I love my freedom, though. Except it gets real lonely. Maybe I'm some sort of post-modern monk... Well, cowboys have a tradition of being lonely, too. I don't seem to trust women and I can't tell if they trust me. Eminem's song "Superman" has been jangling around in my head for many days now. I love Eminem. He's the first white guy since Bob Dylan to inspire me; not that I aspire to be the next Slim Shady 'cause I seriously don't and couldn't and wouldn't if I could 'cause he's an alien Nike-head. But Dylan and Mathers write the best anti-love songs I've ever heard.

Sunday, November 09, 2003

Here's an unexpected letter from my mom:

Chris, we got the "Slippery" c.d. I sat down and listened to it today. I think it's amazing--shocking, crass, blatantly sexual, funny, poignant, brave, smart, and musically delightful. You did a good job with a good team of musicians and sound people. The women's voices are beautiful and work perfectly with yours. You are a remarkable artist and muscian, Chris. I don't know who I can ever share this c.d. with, but I look forward to listening to it again [with the volume turned quite low in this thin-walled apartment complex :-)].

Love, Mom

Don't take this as reason to play A Year in the Life of... Slippery Goodstuff for your grandma, dear reader. It appears that my parents are just a little more liberal than your average middle-aged North Dakotans. Nice.

I've been in a debate with one of my readers who feels that I unfairly blame white, gentile (i.e., non-Jewish) people in regards to the Middle East conflicts. He himself is not white. Here's a slightly edited version of how I responded:

Dear, E------,

I hold my ground that the USA is the biggest imperialist force in the world and we fight dirty to keep it that way. England also has this attitude (and in fact they may have taught it to us). America a vested interest in gaining control of the Middle East, like everywhere else that has something to offer us. Without U.S. money I think Israel would not play the role it has in Palestine. It seems naive to think that we keep Israel in power as a purely good-will gesture to Jews. I think having Israel where it's at acts as a lightening rod for Arabic anger and, until Bin Laden, has kept that particular war off our North American doorsteps. I also think that Americans and Brits have a lot of guilt about our imperialism and thus the press downplays it. One way I've noticed how the newspapers do this is by often showing pictures of young Palestinian boys throwing rocks at big Israeli tanks and such. This helps us temporarily alleviate our guilty-feelings. We transfer our self-loathing onto Israel, (i.e. "they're inhuman", "look at the poor, helpless child-- David vs. Goliath" etc.). But I rarely, if ever, see pictures of young Iraqi boys throwing rocks at big U.S. tanks. Instead the newspapers show pictures of U.S. soldiers carrying babies to safety, and whatnot.

It seems to me that the last fifty years are the first time where Jews have had to act as the oppressor. They've been so freaked out by centuries of pogroms (mostly by European Christian nations), and of course the holocaust, that they are done with being attacked and are also sick of being the "immigrants" living in cramped ghettoes. They'll take whatever they can get to survive. They are in a bind and have been for centuries but this is as good as they've had it for a while and so they aren't quite ready to relinquish their pseudo-safety.

I think white gentiles do have a responsibility to acknowledge our historical role as the predominant oppressor and attempt to make amends. We can withdraw from Iraq. We can stop feeding the fires between Israel and Palestine by quit giving Israel money and weapons. We can give Afghanistan financial restitution for the damage we've caused there. We can quit biasing the media.

The Arab countries, Britain, and Israel all need to take responsibility for their own mistakes and ill logic. I'm American and my skin is white so I choose to start with myself and others whose privilege have allowed us to hide behind gates and desks and decoys for so long.

Sincerely, Chris


Question to selves: Does that sound too self-righteous or half-baked? I'm no historian, just a social observer and anarcho-mathematician and wonder if anyone out there agrees with my krunky, funky analysis.

Saturday, November 08, 2003

No time to write, I need to play poker, dammit. Wish me luck. Gimme some cards... Leprechauns and sea turtles.

Thursday, November 06, 2003

Nothing much to gab about today. I've been getting many varied and interesting emails from folks who have comments about the Slippery cd, or past journal entries, or whatnot. One woman wrote to say that she's decided to start playing lotto in hopes to give artists like me ("with loose morals") a grant; another woman wrote to say that Slippery was creepy and makes her never want to have sex again, but that she also would like to buy all my cds immediately and hopefully get to see a show soon. A fellow wrote to say that an April 11th journal entry annoyed him and requested for me to please not be an idiot on this blog-site. I'm glad to see that many people who I don't know read this and reach out. I only wish I had more time to reply...

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

No time to write. DSL service at my house has been temporarily terminated.

Boo hoo... I rely on my computer.

More tomorrow.

Monday, November 03, 2003

I'm helping Greg with tree removal today and tomorrow again. It's cold as hell! The frost on the car windows needed a diamond-bit chisel this morning. It snowed Saturday night and today I watched a tiny snowman melt (very slowly) over the course of the afternoon where we worked.

The benefit show went lovely. Blah, blah, blah. I need to go ice my back now as I tweaked my neck lifting the chipper. I got a groinal massage yesterday which felt very pleasurable but found myself needing to eat a bowl of candy afterwards to ward off the bad feelings. I guess bodywork can unleash ugly demons that hide in untouched corners of one's muscle fibres. Today I didn't feel too sharp, either, and Greg had to yell at me a few times. It ended well, though. Afterwards, I immediately went to the co-op and bought an avocado/coconut ice-cream bar. They're creamy like mother's milk. Now I think I'll eat some honeyed yogurt. And ice my back.

Saturday, November 01, 2003

I'm in Anacortes waiting for a ride to Seattle where my car is parked. You see, last night I carpooled with Jonas and Jenna to Friday Harbor where I played a show with The Jesus Chords and Jim Basnight at this old rock quarry (for a Halloween party). I was the cowardly lion. Anyway I didn't plan my getaway very well and now I'm stuck. However, I do have a ride eventually but I'll still be late for the show I'm supposed to be playing in Olympia tonight which is a benefit for Dub Narcotic Soundsystem.

A good show, last night, but I made not as much dinero as I'd hoped. It's strange but lately it seems that the better I play, the less money I make which sucks because at each show I get better. Add to this that I now have my brand-new exciting cd, A Year in the Life of... Slippery Goodstuff, for sale and nobody seems to notice. Well I sold two copies, but I wish to be selling twenty-five. I'm telling you, this cd is HOT!!! It will sneak up on you I say. There are several bonafied hits and the artwork looks real nice-- a photo I took of myself at a truck-stop in Oklahoma last spring.

Thursday, October 30, 2003

The last two days I've been chainsawing fallen trees and hauling them here and there. I can't tell what hurts worse-- my groin, my left knee, or my back. The good news is it's been sunny and I just earned $195 and I have a lot of fun with Greg and Ananda and I didn't cut any body parts off. I did hit a nail that someone had pounded into the tree, though, and we had to put on a new chain which was a drag.

Tomorrow's Halloween, so in the spirit of creepiness and stuff I will now affix a link to a photo that my friend Asher sent me which he took in his mom's kitchen last Spring. If you look closely you'll see a ghost in the picture plain as day. It took me about 20 seconds to find it, but when I did it really stood out. Sort of an optical illusion. Concentrate around the table and sort of towards the window. Here's the link. Okay, that's all for now.

Tuesday, October 28, 2003

Why are the Democrats trying to undermine the dignity of our President? They say he can't even ride a horse. Well, that's a low blow if I do say so myself. Who cares if we can't ride horses-- at least we know how to fly jets!

(Links courtesy of Goose.)

Aside from me and Dubya, there are fellows who do know how to ride horses. One of whom is my uncle Josh Sand, who is recovering from a sextuple-bypass heart surgery as I write this. Josh has had hip problems for years but he's always been one of the best team ropers around in spite of his pain. Just this year he won a brand-new saddle for his achievements in South Dakota's "Rope, Stroke, and Poke" competion which is a sort of triathalon featuring steer roping, golf, and billiards. He was also the best wrestler in North Dakota in his high school days for his weight class. My dad was good, too-- good enough to wrestle in college, but no state champion like Josh. My dad was a good horseman and still is, but after busting up his back at age fourteen, when he got thrown, he had no further thoughts about the rodeo. I learned to stay away from that sport although me and my 2nd-cousin, Dusty, used to ride calves and yearlings (and pigs when we were younger, but pigs bite!). As for horses, I used to ride a lot but I do my best to avoid them anymore. Little JOE rides fine. Someday I'll probably resaddle but until then I like to drive.

Monday, October 27, 2003

It looks like I'll be working a couple more full days of $13/hr. tree-removal this week. This isn't such a bad life as long as I can keep paying the bare minimum of bills and nothing goes wrong with my car or body. To be realistic, though, I need more than the bare minimum. In the meantime, though, I'm enjoying ample time with friends and nature and music. Last night I went on my first real "date" in a while. Jen Grady and I used a $100 gift-certificate that her parents had given us last Christmas to Jazz Alley. We saw Pancho Sanchez and his latin jazz band and ate delicious gourmet dinners of salmon and crab as we watched from a table near the stage. Eventually we salsaed and meringued in the aisle and the music sounded even better that way. The evening was perfect-- a tropical vacation in Seattle.

(I long to travel to Ecuador, South Africa, Thailand, Greece, New Zealand, Hawaii, Puerto Rico, Argentina, North Dakota. Even Alaska has been calling my name of late. I'd wait until July, of course...)

Today I racked up my credit card even more with the purchase of a $75 boom-box. It's a good one, though, and much needed as I don't have anything that will play CDRs and yet half my CDs are CDRs.

The News is bumming me out lately. Lots of people are still dying in Iraq and Afghanistan and there's really no end in sight to when the misery will end. Ironically, this news makes me want to kill someone. (No one in particular, just someone). I read that suicides in the USA have risen ten-fold since our bombing campaign began two years ago. That's hard to stomach. Maybe it's just the depressed economy or something else... like the proximity of Mars. Maybe we should blow it out of the galaxy. Die, little red planet! Die, little green space-maggots! Die! I hate you!!! Tears of cosmic rage. Bitter American Death Song.
It's a nice, sunny day today. I'll walk now, and write later...

Saturday, October 25, 2003

Nuts fell on my roof all night.

I had a dream about living on an island and being the only survivor of a raging fire. Later I dreamed that a marmot/squirrel ate some seeds on a bush that made it grow human-sized. It's face became plastic and ugly and when I asked it, "who are you?" the creature stared at me and in a low voice slowly said, "Your subconscious soul". Then without warning it bolted towards me as if to bore into my flesh and face. I barely closed the door of my house in time.

(I didn't do much of anything today except babysit Hollis for Bethany who is trying to move this weekend. Tomorrow I'll help them move boxes to their new house. I also watched the Marlins beat the Yankees for the World Series title. I'm glad it's finally over.)

Thursday, October 23, 2003

Question of the Day:

How important does a person have to be before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered?

Other News:

I'm thinking about taking a computer course at the South Puget Sound Community College.

On the job front, I learned how to write a resume today. Later, I applied for holiday work with UPS. (The U. S. Post Office's seasonal positions are already filled.) I found a job-finding service which pays $8.50/hr. Most of their jobs are manual labor, so I will wait a week until my groin injury (hopefully) heals. I got a massage and chiropractic adjustment yesterday but think I could use another massage quite soon. Yoga would be good, I know, I know.

I bought a used, down-comforter in Tenino yesterday, for $5, and slept warm for the first time since August.

I skipped poker in order to brain-storm with my pal, Jason Traeger. He is a fascinating character and we want to collaborate musically and artistically. Some say Jason is a "genius" and they are right. His canvas art, stand-up comedy, and songwriting ability are all visionary. VISIONARY, I say!!! Never-the-less my heart yearned to be at the tables losing good money.

2nd Question of the Day:

Why is "bra" singular and "panties" plural?

More News:

The first two Slippery Goodstuff orders have come in-- both from my mom! I am scared. My worth as a son lays in Destiny's hands.

Ok, where was I? It doesn't matter. Until tomorrow.

This from Elle in Winona, MN: "I've listened to Slippery Goodstuff several more times, enjoying it more every time, and paying more attention to the story line.  Although I can understand how your listeners might get err... distracted.  In any case I'm a big fan of your epic tale and the postmodern hero/cowboy Slippery Goodstuff."

That's cool. Yes, I've been slowly planting seeds across the country, no pun intended. SLIPPERY GOODSTUFF IS FOR SALE. The first ten people had to pay $15 a copy because I was very zealous and regarded my creation as an illicit drug. My views have changed, though, and now I want to mass produce the S.O.B.!!! Let's roll, people-- $10 covers shipping and handling. Don't make me go down to $5, 'cause I will. Q: Has he lost his mind??? A: YESSSSS HE HAZZZZZZZZ. Be forewarned though, it's not a children's album. That will be next... maybe... Fragile relatives and friends I recommend for you to turn your gaze. It's now time to slap a parental advisory sticker on the cover and march to indie-rock glory; cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-ching- the sound of golden nuggets in my slipper... infamy.

Send checks to: Chris Sand/ 105 N. Sherman/ Olympia, WA 98502.

(L-one-r Records is back.)

p.s. don't forget that A Year in the Life of... Slippery Goodstuff is a collaboration with Beatmaster Shawn "Nerviz" Parke. He's the d.j., and I'm the m.c. I helped him with some of the beats and he helped me with some of the lyrics and to break it down it goes something like this: c. 2003 Sand/Parke. The cameos are off the map with at least seven divas making marvelous appearances and the fantastic turntablism of Blandow Charismium. Samples from Humphrey Bogart, Debbie Harry, E-40, the Bee Gees and much more (don't tell anyone, though). You 'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll cum, you'll sleep. Tell yr friends.

Tuesday, October 21, 2003

A couple days of hard work have done wonders for my morale. And even though I'll soon be spending half the money I earned on massage and a chiropractic adjustment, it's okay. Greg might be able to bring me back next week for another day. Until then I will continue the job hunting. But now I will eat a grapefruit.

By the way, I switched car insurance agencies and am saving $200 a year with better coverage. One word: Pemco.

Monday, October 20, 2003

Mercy, I just finished my day of working for Greg. We removed a huge tree that was beginning to split in half and it was pouring down buckets of rain the whole time. (It still is and the roads are flooding). Greg and his other helper, Ananda, didn't take a break all day, not even for lunch. I slipped into the truck for a 10-minute munchdown because I was getting low blood sugar sensations. My duty was feeding limbs into the chopper. I'm spent but happy, and all my digits are pruny from soaking in wet gloves and boots for seven hours.

Bath and a nap? A fine idea.

Sunday, October 19, 2003

Spent the night in Portland... saw some great art. Carpooled down with Jessica and Cory who I'd never met before. They are new friends now. We all stayed at Bill and Vanessa's. Bill made the best strawberry/banana/maple syrup pancakes this morning. Vanessa's art installation consisted of ten, musty refrigerators that opened up to field recordings or videos of wolves (mostly hunting down elk). Bill's central piece is an orange, grafittied van with a huge sailing-mast which towed a wooden boat carrying two bicycles which towed an inner-tube which carried a pile of dusty cb radios. A modern cArk of sorts. For more info on either of them see:

Time for a hot soak in my claw-foot bathtub; the temperature is dropping again.

Saturday, October 18, 2003

I am on a job hunt. So far I've applied to McDonald's, Target, Ramada Inn, Rainy Day Records, El Guanaco, and a couple gas stations. I also am trying to get the ball rolling on becoming an emergency substitute teacher. Coincidentally I just saw School of Rock last night which is about a struggling musician who becomes a substitute teacher to a bunch of 5th graders. I liked it.

The weather is balmy today: 73 degrees.

p.s. my friend Greg just called and asked if I could help him run a wood-chipper on Monday for six hours! He'll pay $13/hr. which is probably three times more than McDonald's will (after taxes). Too bad it's just for a day.

Friday, October 17, 2003

There has been a warm, tropical rain making my village soggy for the last forty-eight hours. The black walnuts that cluster on the oak tree above my shack's roof have been dropping like grapefruits and waking me up throughout the night. These nuts are deadly; if you don't get hit directly by one, you twist your ankle on it after it's fallen. The flesh around the walnut turns sticky and black and is harder to clean up than dog poop. There is a hard wind blowing right now.

I have not been motivated to do much of anything for the last week except fret about finding a job. By month's end I will be forced into something, and I want it to be interesting whatever it is. All my worrying has made me shell-shocked and worthless and so I watch movies and the baseball playoffs and the Country Music Channel and Comedy Central and visit friends and graze. I played poker last night and lost big. My last two serious girlfriends, Jen and Nina, have been nice to me this week. I have two new room-mates since I returned, Kara and Lilli and they are very pleasant people. I spent three hours with my 10-yr-old friend, Lucinda, today. She's a child genius. We watched Daddy Daycare (Eddie Murphy). My friends in Dub Narcotic Sound System, Calvin, Chris, and Heather, flipped their van somewhere in Montana and almost died last night. I'm talking multiple broken bones and potential reconstructive face surgery for at least one of them. Calvin got airlifted to Billings. I pray they are all okay. This has been a rough year for Calvin. In the Spring he cut, or rather mashed, his finger off in a letter press. The doctors sewed most of it back on, fortunately.

I'd better hit the sack.

Monday, October 13, 2003

Okay, time to recount the tour some more. I'll start with the last show in Winona with Charlie Parr, Larry Penn, and Jack. This was a good one due to the fact that Alex rented the Winona Arts Center and flyered the town. The four musicians sat on stage and traded songs for two hours or so and the audience seemed happy; folk music at it's finest. The tickets were $10 each so we were all relieved that the seats got filled. After the show Jack and I high-tailed it back to Minneapolis and slept four hours. By 8:30 am he, Liz, Doolittle (the dog), and I were in the rental car driving west. We arrived in Spearfish, SD by 6 pm and ate dinner with Coral and Jenny (my aunt and cousin). At 9 pm we played a short set at the Knight's Cellar. We passed the hat and dredged in a total of $28. My uncle Josh didn't seem so impressed by Jack or I and encouraged me to get a job teaching. We slept well that night and by 8 am were driving through the north-east corner of Wyoming headed for Basin, Montana. At 4 pm we arrived and Jack and Liz got a hotel. I killed a couple hours by soaking in the pool at Boulder Hot Springs. Our show at the High Note was probably the high-light of the tour for both of us. We sold plenty of merchandise and the crowd was enthusiastic. My aunt/godmom, Bryher, is a gracious host and promoted the show well and helped to set the mood with her tea and pie. My mom drove from Polson to see it. The next day I rode with her back to Missoula where we met up with Jack and Liz for lunch. Three hours later we cruised onwards to Spokane. Once there Jack and Liz got another hotel. Jack and I joined Melissa, Jeremy, and Lalluh for dinner at The Elk. At 7:00 we set up shop at the Spike Coffee House. The show went fine. I was a little neurotic but apparently endearing... I crashed on Melissa's couch. She bought me breakfast. Jack, Liz, and I drove to Eugene. Met up with Baby Gramps and played to a surprisingly sparse crowd. We all earned $37 each and sold a couple cds. I drove all the way back to Olympia that night. By 6:30 am we were sleeping at the ABC House. Jack and I played on KAOS radio at 2 pm and the Harvest Fest Banquet at 5 pm, and then I went to see Gillian Welch at 9 pm. Then we slept some more, hung out with Andras in the morning, drove to Anacortes, and played at the Department of Safety that night. Jack also played at the Brown Lantern to earn some extra gas money for he and Liz drove all the way back to Minneapolis after the show. They needed to get the rental car back within twenty-seven hours and I think it took them exactly that amount of time. Liz had to be at work. Also, they didn't want to have to pay an extra day. That's hard core road-warrior shit, though, so props to both of you. You, too, Doolittle, you little rat dog. Thanks for not pissing on the seats or chewing up my cell-phone, etc. I won't miss smelling your stinky ass, but, overall, you were a good little dog. As for me, I spent the night at Karl and Cali's. I spent the next morning watching home movies with Ciel, their two-year-old. I barely know her but she kept telling me how much she's missed me.

Well, I guess I'm home. The Northwest is where I've lived since 1993 minus eight-teen months in Nashville... People seem to like me here. I'm not so sure I like them, but I guess I probably do. I made apple crisp for my roommates tonight and the kitchen still smells of cinnamon. It's Columbus Day. The Red Sox beat the Yankees 3-2, which evens up the series 2-2. The Cubs lead the Marlins 3-2 after losing 0-4 yesterday. The Seahawks are 4 and 1. The Terminator is Governor of California. At least four countries besides our own have nukes. Roy got dragged off-stage by a white tiger. Rush Limbaugh is addicted to pain-killers. It's all quite fascinating.

Sunday, October 12, 2003

The 2003 Black Carhart/Edgar Allen Coal Fall tour is officially over and it was a grind. Now I will start over. Now I will wash my clothes. Now I will buy some cheese for the fridge. Now I will wear different shoes. Now I will drink more fluids and get a massage. Now I will excercise and look for a job. Now I will visit friends who feel I have abandoned them. Now I will make firm decisions about where to live. Now I will apologize to Carl for cancelling that meeting last month. Now I will study puppetry. Now I will catch up on sleep. Now I will hunker down for the long, cold Winter and become a bigger, more passionate man. Now I will make dreams come true. Now I will embrace reality and raise a family. Now I will become a porn star/director/fat king of happiness spell-bound death carpenter. Now I will fly inward. No depression... no depressing my reading audience... no re-pressing my past releases... recess.

Saturday, October 11, 2003

Tonight I'm in Olympia. Tomorrow Anacortes. Then the tour's over. My brain is muddy and spent so I'd best get some sleep...

I'd best creep to my tent and weep.

Tuesday, October 07, 2003

Sunday, October 05, 2003

Ugh. These last few days have not really improved and I would depress myself to recount all the shows I have just played. Instead, in the spirit of positivity, I will mention a few of the highlights.

1) My friend Sam gave me an awesome green jacket that completes the outfit I now flaunt (white Adidas, black carharts, mutton-chops). He cooked me some good soup and pizza and we took a hike around a lake. It was raining.

2) I played my first show in the great state of Iowa, (nevermind the horrid bar atmosphere and drunken accordian player). We literally lost a lot of money at this show but Iowa City is a happening little town.

3) Alex's parents were kind and generous and fed me food.

4) I helped a drunk woman, asleep on the pavement, sober up and get a cab in Minneapolis. 

5) I played a show in Duluth with Charlie Parr. He's a really good guitar player. Jack and Liz and I drove up there with Sue and Dave. We stayed with Sue's parents. Sue's mom is Finnish and made Finnish pancakes plus other Scandanavian treats.

6) Sue and Dave gave me a green, army sweater which looks good under my new, green jacket. I look like Che Guevara when I wear my read stocking cap. They also bought me a ticket to a huge, Duluth train museum.

7) We didn't get across the Canadian border last night, but we did play an open mic at an amazing old theater and I sold two cds.

8) This one woman said I looked like Billy Bob Thornton and wanted me to kiss her before her boyfriend got out of the bathroom. She was hard to resist.

9) The leaves are starting to turn gold and red.

To be continued...

Tuesday, September 30, 2003

Headin' to Minneapolis on Greyhound now. Head's in a funk.

Sunday, September 28, 2003

For some reason my charisma collapsed at the Beloit College show. I choked. Something scared me, I guess. I think my own sexuality scared me if that makes any sense. My mojo curled up in a fetus position for the evening and I let somebody else try to entertain the audience; a boring dude with mutton-chops sorta like mine. How frigging embarassing.

Jack on the other hand rocked harder than I've ever seen, and the crowd ate him up. It was tremendous! On the three-hour ride back to Winona we talked a lot about lots of things. Jack's a smart man with a big heart.

Many lessons were learned tonight. (I say tonight because I'm still awake at 6:06 in the morning.) I'm happy to have tomorrow off to collect my thoughts and rest my voice.

Friday, September 26, 2003

"i see the mornin' light. not because i'm an early riser-- i didn't get to sleep last night." bob dylan

I'm in Dylan country, good ol' Minnesota. I crossed over Highway 61 and the Mississippi last night to get to our show in La Crosse, WI. It's 6:45 am. Great show but only got paid $12 which I've spent already (gas, doughnuts, coffee). I made $115.00 on merchandise, though. The reason I'm still up is that Alex talked me into recording a 5-song EP at 2:30 am so that I could sell it at tomorrow's/(today's) shows in Winona. I call it the Winona Four-Play w/ bonus track. Songs on it include: "Big River" (Johnny Cash), "If I Had a Kayak", "The Gol' Darned Wheel" (Anonymous), "My Buddy Jack", "Ballad of A Salad", and a 6th hidden track that Jack wrote for me yesterday called, "Montana's Own Rappin' Cowboy" which sings to the tune of "Deep in the Heart of Texas". A fellow named Casey recorded them in a secret recording lair and I like how they turned out. Jack and Alex sang along now and then. I will assemble it all tomorrow/later today. I ought sleep now.

Wednesday, September 24, 2003

The train I rode was called The Empire Builder and it dumped me off in St. Paul yesterday morning. I really like trains. I saw an otter as we passed through Glacier National Park, and thousands of antelope once we passed Browning. Our train reportedly hit a bear at some point, but I must have been sleeping. Train food isn't so bad and I made some friends. Good times. Jack Norton picked me up at the station and we spent yesterday flyering Minneapolis and St. Paul. Last night we drove to Rochester, Minnesota-- home of the famed Mayo Clinic and played a show at the Comfort Inn. Only a handful of people showed up, but the booker told Jack that we were the best show she'd ever seen there. Afterwards Alex and I spent the night at his friend Emily's place and I slept like a bloody, gilled fetus.

G'night Winona. LaCrosse tomorrow!

Friday, September 19, 2003

Nevermind about that flyer-- it dissapeared somehow.
My cousin Kirby sent me this found work-wanted flyer. After my tour's done I might have to get creative with finding my own damn job to ward off debt collectors. It'll probably be good for me, probably not at all.

Thursday, September 18, 2003

Another four hours at the poker tables last night. I struggled, strived, and connived my way to a $12.50 profit. I got mad and threw my cards around after losing a big hand and people told me to calm down and I started yelling and then I had to start over and dig my way out and this happened a few more times. I had no intention of losing; guess I'm sort of a tyrant in that way. I wanted to win big, that's all. They say Capricorns are the greediest of all. Envious, too. And rich. Not altogether dishonest, though.
My friend Traci sent me this quote:

"This is the artist's dream--
To receive the inspiration to create,
To share that creation with others,
And to be totally supported in the process."

I forward it on to you. We're all artists.

Tuesday, September 16, 2003

I think I might be ovulating today.

What else could explain it??

Monday, September 15, 2003

I ought to say something about the death of John. Big John. Old, dead John. But I don't want to. I'm too sad or mad or something.

I can't think to write more than that. He was a good guy.

Friday, September 12, 2003

Yes, I am officially launching my support campaign for Howard Dean. I call my organization "Cowards for Howard". After attending a meeting with the Bands against Bush folks I decided there was too much negativity floating around for my tastes and anyways I've always liked the taste of bush, mostly. So I decided to be proactive and positive about my affiliations, and in fact create the dream myself. You may deride my using the word coward in association with this man, but it's not he I'm describing; it's us or at least me. I'm afraid to vote for Nader again for fear GW will "win", and I'm afraid to vote for GW for fear our country will go bankrupt and continue this mad holy war against Mesopotamia. I'm afraid to run for office myself for fear that I'd get caught having sex with staff interns. And I'm afraid to vote for you because you'd spend all our taxes on veggie burritos and vintage Atari playstations. Basically, I'm just a scared little man who has decided to come clean. But I'd rather be honest about my shortcomings than hide them under a veil of righteousness. I'm a coward. And I'm for Howard.

Thursday, September 11, 2003

Another day at the Evergreen Computer Center; this is how I spend one-third of my time when I'm in tour-mode. It's raining outside and has been for three days. I like it. The earth and trees smell fresh... cedar... salmon... Viet Namese food... rotting berries and pomes.

I had breakfast with my ex-girlfriend, Jen, today. We haven't hung out for eight months and we ended up having a fine time. It's good to stay friends with old girlfriends, bestfriends, ex-teammates, relatives, and such since they share your history. She's doing well. She has a new, baby sister named Catherine Rose very much to my surprise.

I've been walking around dressed in black lately. I must look partially like an anarchist since I'm wearing the stereotypic black carharts and hoody. My facial hair is rugged, too, like the lead singer from Metallica. But as I can never be one thing with out being the opposite thing at the same moment, I have also been sporting Nike running shoes which would be lambasted by most anarcho kids I know. The Nike swoosh is the sign of the beast to 85% of my pals in town. I could try to explain that these shoes are actually third-generation and an excellent model of recycling; that they were bought on a fake credit-card by a Ghanaian fellow who then gave them to my friend Alan, who I traded for a straw hat two months ago. I could try to explain that, but I don't.

I found a turtle on the bridge as I walked home from breakfast at Darby's this morning. In the nine years I've lived in Olympia I don't recall ever seeing a turtle, and yet there on the bridge's sidewalk and far from any pond lingered this directionless, hard-shelled creature. I picked her up and walked to Capitol Lake where I found a safe harbor and dropped her in. She hissed a thank-you and swam away. In Turtleopolis they call me, "Sand: saviour of lost reptiles and traveller's friend."

Last but not least, I won $2 at the tables last night! I'd broken a lot of my luck rules so I felt good about winning such a small amount. $2 divided by four hours means that I earned .50 cents/hour. That's better than most third-worlders earn all day. Oh, the horror.

In memory of 9/11...

Respect to New York City.

Peace to the world.

Love to the unloved.

Money to unmoneyed.


Sunday, September 07, 2003

I went out drinking and literally lost my shorts last night. To explainify: My house-mate, Elsa, is moving to Providence, R.I. tomorrow and thus last night was her final Saturday. Though I rarely drink in Olympia, I wanted to be part of the festivities. My buddy Ace also invited me out, and at the bar where I met him there was a bachelorette party happening. We were approached by a pair of these flappers with a scavenger hunt checklist. They wanted a lot of things that we didn't have... except a pair of boxers, which I indeed did have. I told them for $10 they could have them. They bargained me down to $5 and I set the things free.

Then I went to the Brotherhood Tavern and met up with Elsa and Lenny. While walking home, Elsa fell off the curb and banged her knee pretty good. By 3:00 I was asleep in my shack lucidly dreaming about riding Armenian dinosaurs and forgetting my cowboy hat in the arena.

Friday, September 05, 2003

I'm sharing my bed with a flea. I call him Mildred because he might be a woman. How did a flea get into my bed?!


How did a cat get into my shack!?


Thursday, September 04, 2003

I won $30 at the tables last night, but only played an hour due to a late recording session with Shawn. It felt good to win again as I'd been losing during the last three weeks. As for the recording, we worked on finishing up "White Line Highway" and "No L! No S! No F!" featuring Scream Club.

Carl called me today and said that he listened to the album and thought it was the weakest thing I've done yet. Perhaps he's noticing something that I haven't, for as you all might know by now, I think this is my best album. His opinion is that my other works have a much warmer feel, whereas this one seems distant and disconnected. I flatter myself by remembering that Dylan lost fans for a similar reason when he shifted from acoustic to electric. At the same time, though, I don't want hubris to derail me. Either way, I like honesty.

By the way, the show with Baby Gramps came through which is really exciting. If you haven't heard of him, make yourself acquainted. He's a legend amongst legends in the Northwest folk music world and has been for quite a while. Come to Eugene October 9th!!

Monday, September 01, 2003

Here's a testimonial as to the pleasing qualities of the new cd, which I sent to Nashville for the boys to hear. This from Giles:

"Chris, Camo played the Slippery G tracks that you sent him to me and Asher last night. All i can say is, Holy shit!!! We were blown away. It hurt my face from laughing so much. Your falsetto singing was incredible. I know it's not finished yet but it is pretty damn amazing already. I can totally see this becoming an album like the Beastie Boys first one, the kind that everybody listens to so much they memorize all the words. Never heard anything like it, but it's perfectly you, my man! I can't wait to hear the finished version. I'm saying DAMN, man, it is fucking astonishing!!! Keep on!"

Thanks G.
What a whirlwind weekend! Friday I drove to Stevenson, WA which is forty miles east of Portland, on the Columbia River, where my friends Kika, Parker, Hibikina, Julie, Ben, and (sometimes) Ericka live, on a scenic piece of property above the river. They're building a house and I helped frame a wall on Friday afternoon. I suck as a carpenter, you should know, but it felt good to be working with my hands again. Kika fed me delicious, scavenged food from the wild, her garden, and dumpsters. I slept outside under a sleeping bag that night and woke up at 4:30 to a train-whistle. I couldn't go back to sleep so I walked around and stretched for a couple hours until everyone else was up. We had blackberry pie and coffee for breakfast and started bending nails by 8:30. Eight hours later we needed a break so we skinny-dipped in the Columbia and from there I drove to Portland for the 7:00 show. "JOE" made it all the way, like he always does, but as we pulled up to the curb I hit it a little hard and popped the right, front tire. I put the spare on and walked into the yard where the thing was happening. A gypsyesque band called Schicky Gnarowitz was playing, and food was abundant. The yard was huge for a city environment and the people were eclectic and there was a bicycle-powered smoothie-maker and I was excited to be part of this scene. I played for about an hour-and-a-half to a mostly warm response. The warmest came from a fifty-something Native American fellow named Demus who appeared to be either extremely freaked-out or else wildly drunk or both. He came half way through my set and started jamming along on his out of tune guitar. A lot of the crowd got annoyed and vacated the area. I, too, was a little thrown off but decided to play off his energy and see what happened. He acted ecstaticly towards my music and kept yelling stuff and thrashing on his guitar. After the show we palled around and drank smoothies until eventually he drifted north on MLK Jr. boulevard. My friend, Vanessa, took a polaroid of us which I put on the fridge. Demus is from the Warm Springs Reservation and had just gotten dropped off by some buddies who were drinking too heavily for his comfort. He was trying to get back on the Interstate going east so as to eventually end up at Cascade Locks where he could do some salmon fishing. At times he would slip into his Native tongue. He introduced himself as: Demus, son of Lomen, grandson of Kalama, and great grandson of Tek.

After the party was completely over I went to Vanessa and Montana's house and slept soundly. In the morning I visited with Vanessa and Bill, ate cereal, and drove home on the spare tire. Before leaving, though, I accidentally filled the tub with cold water and had to take a brisk, refreshing plunge 'n' scrub. This gave me the energy I needed for my business meeting with Victoria, from Pile Driving Records in Vancouver, WA. Victoria's advice to me was to become an intern for an independent hip hop label not on the West Coast-- maybe New York, maybe in the South. She told me of some labels to approach to try to work for gratis until I can make myself indispensable as a supporter of them and their roster. "The sooner the better", she says... She included that I need to spend a lot more time with black people if I'm serious about becoming a rap star.

Thursday, August 28, 2003

Perhaps my heaviness is due to the proximity of Mars... that damned, lonely planet: so cold, so dry, so red, so hard. Hemorrhoid in the sky.

Mariners come back. Let's win a World Series!

p.s. I have written the "Squirrel" song. The chorus goes: "We've got the nuts to feed the whole world, children! (x2)"

Wednesday, August 27, 2003

Check this letter out:

"Chris, I have a huge favor to ask of you. My friends and I are entering a RedBull/Flugtag contest in New York City where we have to create a human-powered flying machine, and have the machine set sail above the Hudson. Our human-powered-flying machine will be a flying squirrel (we will decorate fused-bicycle-parts as a giant squirrel with wings). Each of the first four characters will try and ride the squirrel but alas, they will all be thrown off mercilessly. The urban cowgirl will step up, and when she mounts, not only will she not be bucked off the squirrel, but the squirrel will zip down a ramp, and fly over the Hudson River (until both the squirrel and urban cowgirl fall in).

We are piecing together a stellar music compilation -- including R.Kelly's "I Believe I Can Fly"-- to accompany our skit. Since our presentation blends a mixture of nitty-gritty urban living with the classical styles of macho country life, we felt that our compilation would be complete only with a song from the Rappin' Cowboy himself.

I don't suppose you have any songs about this subject matter. Would you be able to compose one, or part of one, in the next week and send it to us on CD or a tape? "

I don't even know this person!! (What a strange, wonderful life this is...)

Tuesday, August 26, 2003

I'd better write something so you know I'm still alive. I like to believe that other people worry about me as much as you do, but you know; they probably don't, which is good. I'm depressed and a little overwhelmed today. I'm angry that making a couple bucks off my music is so difficult. I'm scared and want to flee this town again. But no, I shall step forward. I'll not let these demons dissuade me from my task. I'll metamorphasize into a madman if I must. I'm reading Don Quixote again for tips. I'm reading Rich Dad Poor Dad. I'm reading I Don't Want to Talk About It. I'm reading the sports page of the Olympian. Bobby Bonds died. Wesley Willis died. That is sad, sad, sad. I'm wearing black today, again. Black carharts-- anarchist-style. I'm hopeful.

I like the new pictures on the website. Goose helped me put them up. The "Bio" page photo is a little strange perhaps. I have a jar of Adam's peanut-butter in my hand. The picture of me on the "Journal" page is where my parents live in North Dakota and where they may grow old. The picture on the "Home" page is in Osh Kosh, Wisconsin and I'm about to sign an autograph.

I finished my four-week run of shows at Herb's bar in Friday Harbor. I learned a lot there and made many new fans and friends. I'm glad it's over, though.

Wednesday, August 20, 2003

Note to the readers of this journal: this is not a request for your money. I'm just working out kinks.

Dear _________,

Hello. I am writing in regards to your inquiry of becoming a venture capitalist in my new music project. The project I speak of is A Year in the Life of… Slippery Goodstuff, which is a full-length rap/r & b album I’ve worked steadfastly at over the last fourteen months and which is near completion. If the slogan “sex sells” is accurate then this new CD may very well be my biggest selling work yet, as every song on it works to tell the story of a sex-crazed (but lovable) character by the name of Slippery Goodstuff. Individual songs off of it have already proven to be hugely popular amongst my friends and fans and the hip hop production styles match the works of other currently successful pop and rap stars. This album is my most playful work to date and I believe will prove to be a big hit if promoted correctly, and there is the rub. Another slogan seems appropriate now: “it takes money to make money” which, of course, you know. In my zeal to complete this album, as well as to continue building my reputation as a touring showman, I’ve had to decline job offers that I felt would have sabotaged my career’s momentum. Thus, I have run out of income.

My proposal to you is this: lend me $20,000 and by the end of three years I will have created the career I need—a career that generates a guaranteed yearly profit. At this time I will return all the money you’ve lent me along with a generous interest rate greater than you could have received at any bank.

The way I plan to use your money will proceed approximately like this: 1) I will pay off my $9,000 credit card debt at 19.8% interest, thus saving my project close to $200.00 per month. 2) I will press 3,000 12” singles using the most exceptional song from A Year in the Life of… Slippery Goodstuff as the A-side and something complimentary for the B-side. 3) I will ship it en masse to radio stations and reviewers. 4) Two months later I will do the same with two more provocative, and complimentary selections off the album. 5) Two months after this I will do this procedure for a third time. 6) I will gather a small team of musicians to help me produce my songs live. 7) I will then press the completed full-length CD/album and follow up with adequate promotion, distribution, and tour support. 8) During this time I will fully exploit NACA in order to make at least $1,000.00 per show as I tour during Autumn, Winter, and Spring of 2004/5. 8) Throughout this process I will collaborate on a follow-up rap/pop album to be released the following Autumn. 9) I’ll make a video from this follow-up album’s “hit”. 10) I’ll tour this new album and video during Autumn, Winter, and Spring of 2005/2006.

I am currently researching managers, agents, and independent, trustworthy labels to help me reach my goals. If I find anything I deem suitable, I will consult you first.

Thank you ________ for your consideration in this project. I believe it will not only be financially fruitful to us both but also exciting as we watch this dream unfold.

Chris Sand

Thursday, August 14, 2003

As I suspected, the luck failed me last night. I lost $30. Actually, I gave $5 to Andras for his birthday so really I only lost $25. It had to happen sooner or later I suppose. One exciting, albeit ironic, happening is that I got a royal flush during a Texas Hold 'em game!!! No one has ever got one of those during any of our hundreds of poker games. The irony is that almost everybody else folded before the pot got big so I only won a couple dollars off it.

I finally joined Friendster, too.

I received this from a friend in Spokane who wrote: "I have long seen a connection between rap and country (all the talkin' trucker songs from the 70's, just to name one example) and it's good to see someone approach it in a real way."

Wednesday, August 13, 2003

I won $11 last night at the poker tables... Tonight I play again but I have a bad feeling about it for some reason. Yesterday I roadtripped with Mike Santana and Trish Lovgren to Lake Quinalt where we hiked for half the day. Mike, who is a lawyer, offered me his skills in writing up a plan for myself in relation to my endeavors at launching this new cd. My goal is to sell at least 10,000 records next year and that means I need to start getting this ball rolling pronto. He said, and I quote: "the shortest pencil is better than the longest memory". Well, Slippery G. has quite a short pencil. (I guess that means it's okay that he has amnesia.) Kidding aside, it's time to get all my thoughts down on paper and focused. It might be time for an agent, too.

Monday, August 11, 2003

I'm back in Olytown again after my second weekend stint in Friday Harbor. I sold $200 in merch this time which is cool, plus the $200 for playing. This is definitely a job and I feel exhausted after each show and especially by Sunday night. I never realized that playing for four hours a day feels like doing construction-- my legs and shoulders get fatigued and I'm ready for the weekend (or in this case the weekdays!) My voice is thrashed, too. This is not to say I didn't have a good time. Saturday night I got invited to go whale watching by some of audience members. There were seven of us in all: Kevin and Tina, Megan and Andrew, and Melissa and John. Melissa might have been the only one that saw a whale, but we all had a blast drinking wine and cranking Led Zeppelin, Iron Maiden, Jane's Addiction, and the White Stripes. A vibrant sunset smoldered in the west and a fat, slow-motion lunatic skateboarded off Mt. Hood from the east. We skirted the whole of San Juan Island which took two hours and then drove to Kevin's for a barbeque. Juniper and her sister, Charlotte, joined us.

Yesterday I rocked both sets, but not before almost drowning at the beginning of the second one out of sheer boredom. Fortunately a bunch of island kids filed in at 5:00 and rekindled my spark. My new casio rapman is a beauty and it felt great to pump out beats to rap over again. I keep running into people I know, too. This weekend I saw my old friend Selah and her boyfriend Darrel. Shawn, Erin, Connor, and Mike Grady also dropped by to listen to a song! I miss them.

Thursday, August 07, 2003

I'm on vacation for a night somewhere south of Olympia. My friends, Bill and Rhonda, invited me for dinner in their new cabin which is a thirty-minute drive. I'm in their guest bedroom; it's beautiful here. Earlier I fed the rainbow trout in their pond and watched the frenzied thrash/splash that ensued. Some of 'em are a couple feet long. We had spaghetti and clam-sauce for dinner.

Earlier today I ate some rancid chicken curry and got extremely nauseous and almost puked. I had to lay down for an hour or so. After that I picked up Khaela and Rjyan (aka "Cex") and drove them to Shawn's to record stuff for the new cd. Khaela harmonized on "Thanks for the Sex" and co-rapped with me on "The Beauty Myth". Rjyan left a hilarious message on my cell's answering machine which I might title "Fone Cex". We all went to the park and played some games with a blue kickball, too.

Last night was the weekly poker game and once again I came out big; I won $52 which puts my Summer's total near $200!

Tuesday, August 05, 2003

In a rather enigmatic email from my friend Jason I received this.

In a follow-up letter he wrote: "That's right Chris. The government has a new kind of weapon. It's a compact disc bearing the name 'SANDMAN CHRIS SAND' and it is going to be tested and launched directly into a comet by NASA! The project and mission is call DEEP IMPACT...The compact disc will nail a small comet that is heading near earth sometime in the next year or so. From there, the disc will travel the Universe for all eternity, or until it burns up, dwarfs out, or crashes into a celestial body!"

Don't ask me what's going on here, 'cause I'm friggin' clueless.

As for other news, I arrived home yesterday from Friday Harbor at 4 a.m. My weekend was surreal. On Friday I fought traffic for four hours until I arrived at my pal, Karl Blau's house near Anacortes. We recorded a song about a man on the moon in Karl's recording shack. Karl's yard is filled with oyster shells and chicken poop but he walks barefoot everywhere. His daughter and wife were on vacation so we had the run of the place.

The next morning I drove onto the ferry boat for $39.50 and rode to San Juan Island and the village of Friday Harbor. I arrived late and without a p.a. system which caused a cancellation of the first show. I thought they'd supply one, but no luck. This caused much stress for me and them and I spent the next three or four hours scuttling around the isla with my awesome hostess, Juniper, looking for a complete p.a. system. Thanks to her and her friends we finally pieced together a make-shift apparatus and jetted back for the second show which ended up going well. That night Juniper and I hung out with her New Zealand friend, Wocka.

In the morning she and I drove to Wocka's for breakfast. Wocka's wife, Stephanie, was there, too, and we ate a delicious breakfast that Wocka cooked up.

To make up for the lost hours of the day before, I played for six hours on Sunday. The first half of the day was filled with more conservative, tourist types and the second half with funky island kids. I sold $50 in merch and was paid $200 to cover the eight hours played and hopped the last ferry of the night at 10:15. This ferry stopped at Lopez Island and Orcas Island and in the two hours or so it took to get to the mainland I wrote a new song for the Slippery G. album called, "Tiny Spy Cam", which is about voyeurism.

Monday, August 04, 2003

I'm back from my weekend gig in Friday Harbor. More soon I promise.

Wednesday, July 30, 2003

Important message to friends, fans, and family: My new Slippery Goodstuff album is near completion and will be by far my best work yet. I tend to be cautious about saying things like this for fear of being wrong, but this time I'm confident I'm right. I've spent hundreds of hours working on it with one of Washington's finest hip hop producers, Shawn "Nerviz" Parke, and he agrees. It's a hip hop album unlike anything I've done-- it has beats, it has turntablism, it has a myriad of guest vocalists, it has a consistent theme, it has sex-appeal, it has humour and a message, it has skits and telephone messages, it has soul. It's controversial and artful. Some people might even hate it! That's a good thing, though, because the rest are gonna love it. It will stand out and lead the way to even better releases in the near future. I have a children's album I want to do soon-- as well as an anti-imperialist one. I've already self-recorded an album of post-post-modern cowboy poems and ballads which deserves to see the light of day someday, not to mention that by next year all four of my cds, (Roll Out, Cowboy, Love's Hangover Sale, Until the End of Time, The Long Ride Home) will be sold out and need repressing and repackaging. The highly influential magazine, Punk Planet, recently called me: "Our troubador for the 21st century." I have books to write, too, dammit!

In other words, my body of work is solid; my momentum is strong; and to keep this horse from heading back to the oat bucket, my bright future hinges on this new album selling at least 10,000 units, and soon. The way I see this happening is by either an extremely generous individual or three giving me at least $20,000 so I can manufacture, promote, distribute, and tour it properly or hooking up with a record label as soon as possible. I've always preferred to do it myself, but time and circumstances have caught up with me and now I'm near broke and more flexible about how I pay next month's rent and put new tires on "Joe".

How you can help: 1) do you have a lot of excess money that I can have? 2) do you know of someone who does who might be open to sharing it with me? 3) do you or anyone you know have connections to a record label that could pay at the bare minimum $20,000 to help me release my new cd? Folk, Punk, Rock, Country, Rap, it doesn't matter a bit.

Thanks for thinking about this. Please, drop me a line at if you have any ideas that you think might help, and feel free to cut-and-paste this letter and forward it.

Sincerely, Chris "Sandman" Sand

p.s. Mom and Dad, you're exempt as you're in worse shape than me.
It's so hot these days, but beautifully so. The little spiders are proliferating. Everytime I walk into my shack I break a fresh web with my face. The squirrels are collecting walnuts at a fevered pace. The blackberries are perfectly sweet and best of all-- free! I swam at Deschutes River yesterday with my friend Heidi. We baked and swam, baked and swam. I layed in a field with another friend and deer and ravens wandered near. Fairies and elves. Fairies and elves. My mind is a bowl of burnt squash. I like this heat... mostly. I just wish Joe's window could roll down a crack.

Last night was the weekly poker game. We were all so starved for it that most of us played for over three hours. I left after four, and David, Matt, and Pete were still avidly battling it out when I left. I earned $38 which is fair wages, especially since I was down $20 at midnight. I guess that means I somehow won $58 during the last two hours. It wasn't that fun a game, 'cause I was hungry the whole time and finally had to help my self to a bowl of cereal at 1:00AM.

Well, I best continue my organization process and grab a glass of water.

Sunday, July 27, 2003


Jesus got up one day a little later than usual. He had been dreaming so deep there was nothing left in his head. What was it? A nightmare, dead bodies walking all around him, eyes rolled back, skin falling off. But he wasn't afraid of that. It was a beautiful day. How bout some coffee? Don't mind if I do. Take a ride on my donkey, I love that donkey. Hell, I love everybody.
Since I have nothing too interesting to write today I'll lift a couple sentences from a letter my mom recently wrote me:

"The little grasshoppers are an amazement this year. They rise by the hundreds, whirring in all directions, whenever I go across the yard. I love walking around just to experience the flurry of activity and excitement. Happily, they fly away from me!

The full moon is doing something neither your dad nor I have noticed before. It's rising in the southeast. The mountains are much lower there, so it's a new, beautiful sight."

I liked how she worded all that information. Her name is Mary Sand.

Saturday, July 26, 2003

I just got offered a series of paying gigs for August at Herb's bar in Friday Harbor, WA! I'll play Saturdays and Sundays for a total of $200 each weekend. They'll also buy me a couple lunches and pay for the ferry ride. I could ask for more, but it seems like a good enough way to pay rent and keep practiced until I take off again. Friday Harbor is a tourist town on San Juan Island where I played a couple weeks ago and got a good response. I sure need the money.

My new cd is coming along strong and is now titled 17 17-Year-Olds: A Year in the Life of... Slippery G.. Here's the premise:

It's a concept album that follows a womanizing character named Slippery Goodstuff in his loosely stated quest to bed seventeen seventeen-year-old women in a single night. (It must be stated here that "Slippery" is a victim of complete amnesia and has forgotten his real name.) Though relatively succesful at picking up females, he ultimately hits a wall during an encounter with a rap outlaw named Cindy Wonderful... and her girlfriend, Sarah Adorable. Together they give Slippery an unforgettable reaming.

Shocked and inspired by Cindy and Sarah's fierce sexuality, Slippery has a revelation about the meaning of true sexiness and in a stunning turn-of-events stops lying, not only about his wealth, stamina, and exaggerated penis-size, but also remembers the painful experience which triggered his amnesia in the first place: days after a painful divorce with his third wife he wrecklessly flipped his four-wheeler in a remote Idaho wilderness area and suffered a massive concussion. Upon gaining consciousness he survived off nuts and mushrooms until eventually finding his way into a small mining town and its nearest X-rated video booth. As this is his first contact with humanity since his memory loss he imprints upon the leading male actor on the screen-- an out-of-date 70's porn star named Slim Johnson-- and re-creates himself in that dude's image.

This vivid recollection prompts Slippery to end his unprofitable quest to sex the seventeen seventeen-year-olds and he lets his heart break for the first time in years.

Let me know, anyone, if you find this plot too wordy.

A shorter explanation for the title and a different angle might go something like this:

There has long circulated a legend that Chris "Sandman" Sand, years ago on a mid-Summer's night, deflowered seventeen, horny seventeen-year-old women. How this story began and who started it is unclear, but it of course never happened... or did it? This album attempts to separate fact from fiction in a mildly penetrating song-cycle dealing with sex, drugs, and a mustachioed, heartbreaking anti-hero whom the ladies call "S-l-i-p-p-e-r-y".

Now, I know I'm playing with fire a bit with all this, but I believe that magnifying and making light of sexism will help expose it's idiocy. I guess I'll leave that for the women who hear to decide. I'm not too worried because I'm not really interested in pleasing people. I think all art should be electrifying and boundary pushing. (Aren't I so liberated?)

What else should I blabber about? I could talk about the rape trial that I've been a juror for during the last five days, but that would be illegal until deliberations are over. Even then I may not know the verdict because I'm the 13th juror, which means I'm the alternate. I sat through the whole thing but now I'm only on call until they come to a decision. I earned $10 a day for that and it was actually really interesting and exciting. I have a new appreciation for lawyers-- their brains are like athlete's bodies. The judge was rad, too.

I lost $19 in a poker game on Tuesday. Poker's only once a week now.

Thursday I went to the Brotherhood Tavern and watched Cex perform. After the show he and a few friends and Khaela M. and I snuck into the Ramada Inn and hot-tubbed. I wore red, Hanes underwear; most everyone else had swimming trunks. Last night I watched the country music channel's top forty men of country music countdown. Johnny Cash got #1, Hank Williams, Sr. #2, George Jones #3, Willie Nelson #4, Waylon Jennings #5, Merle Haggard #6, Garth Brooks #7 and then I lost track. George Strait and Conway Twitty were up there somewhere too. Jimmie Rodgers deserved better than #37 in my opinion. As for women, I recall that Tammy Wynette was #1, then Loretta Lynn, and thirdly Dolly Parton. Loretta and Dolly are better than Tammy Wynette don't you think?

I have a lot to do so I'll soon end this blogging, but I also must say that the new cd is coming along splendidly. I recorded a sort of countrified tune, for it, called "White Line Highway" which has Carl Dexter playing a variety of instruments over a programmed hip hop beat (courtesy of Nerviz) and my guitar and vocals. It's a scorcher-- vaguely reminiscent of "Radio Works Fine"!

I want to mention the Heckfest, too. I drove to Anacortes last Saturday, with Alex and Mike, in time to play my dinner show at the Croation Club. I wasn't too prepared but enjoyed myself never-the-less. The highlight was my final song, "Sand vs. Bush", where I asked for a beatboxer and seven-year-old, Louisa Lunsford, volunteered. Her goofiness and unique rhythms worked perfectly and I could barely stop from rolling on the floor throughout the performance. Everyone, it seemed, was hugely entertained... although I learned later that this one dude wasn't but that's boring to write about.

There ya go, fine readers. Sorry it's been so long. More adventures shall ensue soon so stay tuned. Adios!

Friday, July 25, 2003

Before I do anything else (like check and respond to hotmail, etc.) I will write something in this journal, which must have abandonment issues by now. I have been locked out of using this blogger for a variety of reasons, the main being that after returning from the What the Heck fest in Anacortes I've had jury duty all week and have been recording each night all night with Nerviz. I look forward to having time in the next few hours to describe the experience in the court-room and talk about the trial a little. Right now though, I must respond to all the emails I've neglected and send out a couple cd orders!

Monday, July 14, 2003

Okay, okay. Spokane. Arrived there early in the afternoon and picked up Alex Stevens who had just arrived from Minnesota via Amtrak. We went to a river and I practiced a little. Eventually a one-eyed vagabond swam across and was soon joined by his hydrophobic pal. They wanted to drink beers with us and listen to my songs some more but we had to leave for the show. They talked me into playing one last song: "Two Key-chains". Vagabonds, hobos, tramps, bums, outlaws, thieves, prostitutes, horse-rustlers, escaped convicts, and one-eyed-hydrophobic drunks all seem to understand me better than your average millionaire for some reason. If they were the ones pulling the strings I'd be richer than Toby Keith and Brad Paisley put together!

Anyhow, Alex and I eventually made it to the Shop, which is the funky, hip coffee house where I played with Bobby Birdman and Little Wings, which I already wrote about. The real fun began after the show when Alex, Jeremy, Melissa, Kyle, Rob, J.D., Andrew and I drove an hour north to Jeremy's parent's guest-house on some beautiful lake. We started a fire and drank beer until late and took turns playing Twister with Melissa. By 4:30 a.m. Alex, Melissa, and I were the only ones still awake. Then I crawled into my sleeping bag and passed out. At 6:30 a.m. I awoke and quietly stole away in Jeremy's paddle-boat. I must have pedalled two or three miles before realizing I should return. By that time my knee was aching, the sun was starting to burn me, the wind was blowing against me, I was hungry, and I needed a quart of water. Eventually, though, I made it back. Most everybody was still asleep so I boiled up some macaroni and cheese and then swam for awhile. By noon, the gang was awake and Alex and I headed west. In Ellensburg I dropped him off at a Greyhound station and met up with Aaron and then he and I went swimming.

Tomorrow I hope to begin recording again. By the end of the week I will own a computer! Goose is giving me one, but I'll have to buy a mouse, keyboard, and monitor to make it usable. I might get a printer, too.
Woo-hoo! I'm back in Olyville. For the next two months I will be working my butt off. In fact I'm not even going to play poker anymore... until August. After that, I'll just play Fridays. I'm about to become very rich and famous. Will you join me on this journey? Send check or money order to: Chris Sand/ 105 N. Sherman/ Olympia, WA 98502. The first thing I'll buy will be a computer, then new tires for JOE. Then I'll re-press all my sold-out CDs and publish a book of lyrics. Then I'll tour Europe, Japan, Thailand, South America, Canada, and Australia! Then I'll star in a motion-picture film.

Saturday I played at Herb's in Friday Harbor. Herb's is a big, ol' tourist bar but thanks to the Jesus Chords the place was packed with friendly locals who loved me! I was paid $120 and made another $50 or so on CD sales. After the show many of us drove to a woman named Juniper's house and partied some more. The booker at Herb's wants me to possibly return and play weekends in August. It's a long drive, but it might be a steady source of income for awhile.

I'll write more soon about the Spokane show!

Saturday, July 12, 2003

I'm in Cle Elum, Washington this morning. Eating grape-nuts. In my underpants. Soon I will drive to Anacortes and take a ferry or plane to Lopez Island and play a show with the Jesus Chords tonight. I've been in Cle Elum since Thursday. Yesterday I had a day to kill so instead of driving back to Olympia, I volunteered for Project CAT (Cougars and Teaching), which is a state sponsored research project combining education in the Cle Elum school district with cougar research. The component I helped with is the cougar habitat vegetation mapping project. For eight hours my friend Aaron and I tramped through the woods taking inventory of plantlife and swatting mosquitos. I earned $10. We found some fresh bobcat scat and saw tracks but didn't run into any mountain lion. I saw five elk and Aaron saw a coyote. At day's end we skinny-dipped in a cold, clear river along the way. I plan to swim, again, when I reach Anacortes' Cranberry Lake, this afternoon.

Wednesday's show in Spokane went well. I opened for Little Wings and Bobby Birdman. I felt scattered but the audience seemed to enjoy themselves except for the parents of a teenage girl who I think found my lyrics and gestures innappropriate. I got a surprisingly generous writeup in the Spokesman-Review by an African American columnist (Isamu Jordan) who defended my artistry by appreciating the way I mix rap and country in a non-joking sort of way.

Uh-oh, Aaron's computer just told me that it's batteries are about to run out... I'll quit while I'm ahead. (To be continued.)

Tuesday, July 08, 2003

Another review. This one from Kentucky. The reviewer falsely advertises it as being more hip hop/ electronica than it is. After all, only the first song has any remnants of that. Oh well, the new cd, A Year in the Life of... Slippery Goodstuff, will hopefully balance the tables. Reviewers on that one will probably mistakenly advertise it as being a folky, country album. It would help if they'd listen to more than just the first song.
Allergies hit me bad today. I worked fourteen hours yesterday and got a little burnt out. This week my mom is paying to get my body tuned up. As of tonight I've received a physical, earwax removal, teeth cleaning, and massage. My friend Karin, who is a doctor of Chinese medicine, has given me two acupuncture treatments and all sorts of love. She is one of the great witches of Montana: a true healer and amazing cook! She and her husband Tom are among my closest friends.

Sunday, July 06, 2003

The Charlo all-school reunion is over. I played a few songs at the reunion show in between the other acts. My mom was the m.c. After the school song and cheer, Tawnie Kerr sang "The Star Spangled Banner". Then Rebecca Esterby sang "God Bless the USA". Then me with "Dear Grandma", "Reincarnation", "Thanks a Lot" (which I forgot the words to), and "Tribute to 'Rapper's Delight'". Then Jackie Kerr sang "I Hope you Dance" and Alan Fryberger ended it with "God Bless America". After the show, one old rancher had me autograph something or other. I've never played a show in my hometown before. The closest I came was playing my uncle John's former White Buffalo Bar in Ravalli after a pig roast and horse-shoe tournament. I got booed off the stage for rapping too much but he still gave me $100. The Native Americans seemed to like me more than the cowboys that night, for what it's worth.

Speaking of life on the Flathead Reservation... my friend Margaret and I went to the Arlee Pow Wow on the 4th of July. I love those fry bread tacos and huckleberry lemonades! Margaret's not Native, she just came to witness the Charlo Independence Day parade and hang out. She's my aunt Bryher's friend from Basin and is a playwright. After the parade we swam the frigid waters of McDonald Lake.