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.

Hi. Bye.

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.
Amyn.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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
Goodstuff." 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 rappincowboy@hotmail.com.
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
(www.rappincowboy.com)

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).

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.

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.

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

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...

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

Boo hoo... I rely on my computer.

More tomorrow.

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.

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.