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.

Wednesday, July 02, 2003

I was right about the lightning; it started some big fires. Last night at 1:00 a.m. the hills behind the Bison Range were bright orange. A coyote ran across the road as I was peering at the flames.

Dad and I tiled floor all day today.

Tuesday, July 01, 2003

I'm in Montana at the Missoula Boy's and Girl's Club. Calvin Johnson and the Sons of the Soil (Adam Forkner, Kyle Fields, Jason Anderson) just finished playing. It's muggy. Calvin's band gave his music an edge I haven't heard before-- everything from rock to lounge, but mostly just raw... Calvin. Sugarbush, (Kee, Dawn, Dmitri, and Ryan), who I played with in Tucson are here, too; they're on tour, but didn't play tonight. I'll probably hang with them for a while, after I'm done here.

Ate steak for dinner. Steak for lunch. Steak last night. Ham for yesterday's lunch. Chicken Sunday. Rice wafers and watermelon a couple days before that.

Spent today tiling mom's floor and yesterday building a trap-door in the bunk-house and varnishing window-sills. I got severely stoned on the vapors and acted bored and aloof for the rest of the evening. Dad and I went to the neighbor's and I played an impromptu concert.