A wicked wind hails from the stormy west.
Angels call, but none for to caress!
Perhaps 'tis now to cast a sportsman's line
And hook a bonny lass, and make her mine . . .

Yesterday's journal entry was only a Norwegian joke disguised as a blog.

Ok, then . . .

Does anybody want to order some Valentine CDs or pillow cases? Good to Be Awake is full of love songs! So is (return to) . . . the blackhole (of outerspace) come to think of it.

Valentine's Day Special: $11.11 postage paid for Good to Be Awake. Thirteen songs about love. . . and sometimes loss. I'll include a Valentine's Day card.

Send to: C. Sand / PO Box 7 / Dunn Center, ND 58626, if interested.

A 3rd cousin of mine, Elva, from Grand Forks, ND, just made it into the finals for Miss Swimsuit USA. Here's the photo. See if you can guess which one she is? She's never been out of the state so she's really excited about this.

I just got invited, by the legendary Bill Lowman himself, to perform both nights at Medora's 20th Annual Cowboy Poetry Gathering. This is a great honor for me, and might catalyze me to write more cowboy poems this winter. The dates are May 27th and 28th. Minutes after I hung up the phone with Mr. Lowman, I got a call from a Mrs. Nelson in Dickinson who offered me $200 to play a community show there. In two weeks I have a gig in Killdeer with Beni Paulson's country band, Rough N Ready, and the next night I'll drive to Cross Ranch State Park for a WinterFest performance (see calendar for dates).

I've been wanting to play shows in western North Dakota. The only one I've done recently was for the Dunn County Farm Bureau's annual meeting last year.

Today was a day of leisure: shooting hoops, eating shrimp, playing poker, watching Super Bowl XL. Tomorrow begins a new year of work as curator of the Dunn County Historical Museum. Sleep beckons . . .

Before I forget, though: I've decided that I need a laptop computer. Does anyone have any buying tips? I want something that is fast but doesn't cost too much. Is the iMac or the PC better? Do you want to sell me yours perhaps?

While I was on tour last month my great-aunt Mary Herak Zagst passed away at age 93. She was my late Grandpa Herak's sister, and one of the sweetest, prettiest, and kindest women I ever knew. Here's a photo:

She worked on flight simulators in WWII, and later became an elementary school teacher in rural Montana and then Arizona.

Excalibur is a fine automobile. The circle is complete. The snake has swallowed her tail.

I'm home.

In Alpine, Texas, at Railroad Blues, Excalibur got crucified. At midnight, after the show, Bill and I stepped out into the glow of a small nearby bonfire and saw this rustic wooden cross fastened firmly to the Blue Stallion's grill.

Pranksters or missionaries?, we wondered.

On the rear bumper was a Railroad Blues sticker. Both remain. The cross, like the cowboy, like the constitution, like the coathanger, is a symbol that means many different things to different people, so its intended meaning is often puzzling.

My brain might be too small to wrap around matters like these, but somehow I felt safer driving those long stretches of drunken highway with the cross in front. In the moonlight la cruz glowed like a skull. (Unfortunately it didn't ward off the Oregon werecop.) A gas station attendant in Yuma, AZ, saw the wooden thing and made this comment to Bill and me: "Always travel with God in front. Not behind. Vaya con Dios, amigos."

The last week has been about buying used pillow cases, shirts, belts, cowboy boots, and random trinkets. Rappin' cowpunchers cannot live on CD sales alone, I've found. I've mainly been buying dozens of pillowcases in thrift stores across the NW and Montana. While I'm at it I tend to see other doodads that I can't help purchasing. I bought a few cassette tapes: The Clash (Combat Rock); Stevie Nicks' Greatest Hits; U2 (War); Van Halen (1984); Gil Scott-Heron's Greatest Hits; The Rolling Stones (Some Girls); Led Zeppelin IV; etc. I love tapes for their low price and small size. I also bought a gun holster for a .22 pistol, a Zorro hat, and a stack of old postcards.

Yesterday I spent the afternoon with Grandma Herak again. She's been sifting through old pictures and newspaper clippings. She wants to compile a comprehensive scrapbook of Charlo history. She seemed slightly depressed, though, and was lamenting the loss of her muscle tone. She went so far as to say that she may not be around much longer--she doesn't want to be bedridden for years to come. I wish I could afford to get her a top-of-the-line physical therapist.

After eating supper with Grandma and her elderly posse, I met up with two old high school pals, Shane Andersen and Shane Shima. We watched Charlo play another varsity basketball game (Charlo lost this time). Then we went to Shane Andersen's ranch and drank clamato juice and beer and looked through old yearbooks. Shandersen is a crane operator now and has two kids. Shima runs Ronan Power Products and has three kids. It was a treat to see how good both these guys are doing in their lives. May we all grow old together.

After reminiscing w/ the Shanes, I drove 60 miles to Missoula and stayed at my Aunt Theresa and Uncle Dan's house. This morning Theresa filled Excalibur's tank up with green dinosaur wine, and off we trotted eastbound on the I-90.

Tonight I reside in Charlo, Montana, on the old farmstead of my Herak grandparents (and great-grandparents). My uncle Marty lives here now with his wife Roxanne. Grandma Herak, as you may know, is currently living in an assisted living center in St. Ignatius. I visited her this afternoon and played some songs for her and crew. She's surprisingly healthy! I'm going to stay an extra day here so as to visit with her some more. This evening we attended the Charlo varsity basketball game. My cousin, Bocephus, is star of the team. The Vikings beat the top-ranked team in their division conference, Alberton, by fifteen points, and Bo was bedrock as always.

Last night was the finale of my January 2006 musical campaign. It took place in Spokane at the Shop. Though sparsely attended, decidedly due to wet weather, the audience was enthusiastic and the staff big-hearted. The show was the cherry on top of my most lucrative safari ever. In 26 performances I distributed close to 500 units (350 CDs and 150 pillow cases). I would have sold more, 'cept I sold out of every CD I brought and didn't have many left for my final two gigs. Plus, I didn't have my two brand new CDs available until midway through tour when they got overnighted to me in Little Rock, AR, and Dallas, TX, respectively.

My only disappointment yesterday was getting a $244 speeding ticket in Oregon.

Soon, time permitting, I will recount more highlights from this most excellent crusade to and through the skeleton key-hole of the American west. Pictures, too, will be forthcoming.

Portland, Oregon, was even more generous than Seattle. Great venue, great opening band--Grodie Bros. and Friends; they have the worst band name ever, but that makes it cool somehow. One of their members is named Spudblaster.

Last night's two shows in Seattle did me good. I sold $300 in merchandise and got to hang out with a lot of old friends. Now south to Portland, OR.

Played a fun show in Astoria, OR. Then the Bellingham college gig got cancelled, so I stayed an extra day in Astoria. Had a tremendous mini-vacation with Miranda and Teresa. Now it's off to Seahawk Town for a double-header: two shows in one night. Tomorrow back to Portland. Then Spokane and east, east, east. Excalibur is starting to chomp at the bit, hungry for his Dakota pastures. Slow down, boy. We're in the beautiful, moist NW for three more nights. Let my good times roll while they may . . . soon enough you'll be back where the prairie meets the badlands, and you can stretch out and rest a while.

I just got a recharging massage in Eugene, Oregon, from my friend Jennifer. Last night her hot tub helped ease the transition from sunny California to the foggy northwest.

To catch up . . . the downtown LA show at The Smell was fine, befriended a homeless El Salvadorean fellow named Daniel who thought my folk songs were "wack" (but loved the raps), stayed w/ friends Joanna and Reid in Long Beach, drank a beer with Anna Oxygen while the mariachi band serenaded a couple.

The next day Bill's ex-girlfriend, Eden, climbed in with us and we all drove to Big Sur for the Quiet Quiet Ocean Spell music fest. A pod of whales spewing misty geysers from their air holes and a classic sunset greeted our arrival. What followed was equally psychedelic--two days of gently waving music transmissions and tree-climbing ocean flights.

Then Bill and I drove to Oakland for our final show. It was modestly attended, but good enough. My cell phone, which I'd left in Long Beach, got returned by Joanna and Reid. I recited cowboy poetry to my homegirls, Annessa and Jolene (from the Flathead Rez in MT). I ate the best burrito ever after the show. Bill and I crashed in a dusty theatre storage room in the Mission District of San Francisco. At 8:30pm I saddled up Excalibur and drove nine hours north, to where I jog my memory and blog.

Groovy baby. I just made it to Eugene, OR.

Tomorrow I'll have time to write.

I added some links to the January 16th entry that you may find interesting.

The San Diego gig was lightly attended and odd. Thankfully the small audience was generous with donations. Bill and I spent the night at his friend Laura Fine's house. She made magic pancakes for breakfast w/ maple syrup and strawberries.

The weather is still balmy. The palm trees are bursting with flavor. As Sarah Vaughn sings, "It's good work if you can get it, and you can get it if you try . . ."

I finally got a good night's rest. I'm shaved, scrubbed, and ready to rock westward to Quartzite, AZ--land of 10,000 R.V.s. We'll be doing a free, guerilla theatre-style show in the middle of the desert just for the snowbirds and tarantulas.

After the Phoenix hootenanny last night, Bill and I crashed at my cousins Annie and Ellery Williams' place, on the outskirts of the city. They have a sweet pad, indeed, with two friendly pups and a 50" television set. I watched World Poker until 2 a.m.

Met back up with Bill last night in Tombstone, AZ (where Wyatt Earp was sheriff back in the day), and we drove the remaining 30 miles to Bisbee for the show. Bisbee is a far out town full of artists and hobos. The show was excellent. I slept in a funky attic space with postcards for wall paper.

As for the hitchhike adventures:
I was really fortunate to arrive to the show on time. After being stuck in the Santa Fe/Albq. zone for three hours, I caught a ride with a nice guy on vacation in his 2005 Prius. He drove me the remaining 600 miles. We took the scenic route through one of the curviest, wildest highways I've ever been on in eastern Arizona. Saw a bear, elk, and plenty o' mule deer. This guy turned out to be an ABC (formerly CNN) News correspondent. He covered both the Saddam Hussein and Michael Jackson trials. He has interviewed Condi Rice and Arnold (the Governator). I told him I'll be his Dunn County scout/agent. I wonder if the branding at Voight's ranch this spring is worthy of international coverage. Maybe the annual Walleye Feed at the Buckskin Bar. I'll dig up something that ABC will surely latch onto (kiddin').

Happy Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day!!!

I messed up and now I'm missing my Tucson show. Bill and I left Santa Fe early this morning and drove to Albuquerque for a photo shoot. Then we cruised south on the I-5 for a while, until I realized I had to hitchhike back to Santa Fe. This took me three rides. In Santa Fe I met a bunch of old homeless guys. We all played guitar for about three hours in the city square. Then I met up with my friend Crow. Tomorrow I have to hitchhike to Bisbee, AZ, which will be a challenge.

It was due. After a string of "smooth" shows, last night's gig in Santa Fe was rough. I blame it on the Albuquerque whiskey (it's pineapple juice from here on out.) The crowd was very forgiving, though.

Bill and I are now heading back to Albuquerque for an early morning photo shoot that was offered to us by a photographer named Emily.

Santa Fe, NM. Sunny and warm. More later . . .

This is the best tour I've ever been on. Last night in Alpine, TX, at Railroad Blues, was amazing. Tonight's show in Albuquerque, NM, was incredible. Excalibur ride on.

As we go, Bill has been videotaping our adventures. Today in the West Texas desert we had a good time of it. Saw a burro tramp--a lady who lives on her donkey and sleeps in the ditch at night.

Greetings from Denton, Texas. It's an hour outside of Dallas. Ol' Blue AKA the Blue Stallion AKA Excalibur AKA my '89 Buick Century is rollin' like a champion. Bill and I are like sardines in there, but everyday, with massive merch sales, we gain more breathing space.

However, today, 100 copies of Good to Be Awake arrived in Dallas at Bill's mom's house. They look good! Hopefully I'll sell a few tonight.

'Twas a warm night w/ a splash of rain at a guy named Henderson's house, and 50 or so folks showed up. Denton, Texas was bedrock. I still don't have my CD Good to Be Awake, but rumor has it that a box of 100 copies has arrived in Dallas this morning. I'll pick 'em up this afternoon.

Here's the Crunks Not Dead link for your reading pleasure.

Good golly, Miss Molly--it's hard to keep up. I'm in Huntsville, TX. Last night Austin. Before that Shreveport, Louisiana. The last two shows w/ Bill Daniel were great. Lots of people. Money was made. Warm weather. I lay out on the grass at Bill's brother's place with my shirt off and soaked up the 80 degree sun rays this morning. I got mild food poisoning in Shreveport at a barbecue joint, though. I've almost recovered.

Tomorrow begins the Road Dog Tour, with Bill Daniel, in Shreveport, Louisiana: see homepage.

I still have yet to receive my new CDs in the mail. Apparently the replication machines broke down. It's been disappointing not having either of my twin babies with me during this first week on the road. The good news is that they're finally done and in the mail. The bad news is they didn't arrive today, which means they might not arrive in Little Rock until I'm gone. Daaang.

Southern Missouri is pastoral. I'm twenty miles away from the Arkansas border.

Both of my last two shows were solid. In particular, I enjoyed last night's performance at Eastside Tavern. There is a lot of love for my songs in Columbia. It seemed like half the audience knew the words.

Just a few highlights of the last two days include:

1. Hiking to Devil's Ice Box (a cave outside of Columbia) w/ Elise, Ben, River, and Lunaya.
2. Leo Jalipa's enthusiasm, spaghetti, and beatbox skills.
3. The hospitality of Malavika, Isiah, and Andrell.
4. The songs of Noah Earle, Jesse Witherell, and Eli Gay.
5. Walker's post-Christmas party feast.
6. Breakfast on Eli at La Cocina this morning.

Also, 319 JOE's license plate is officially sold. Fare thee well.

No time for gabbing. I'm in the middle of Iowa roaring down Highway 63 to Columbia, MO. Had a great time in Decorah last night at a house party. Really nice people lent out the top floor of their house and fed me and Samuel and Froseph food. Stayed in Jeff Mitchell's rustic-to-the-extreme cabin out in the sticks. Jeff Mitchell, by the way, is an amazing songwriter. Jack Norton called in the middle of my set, and we did a duet. Froseph played two songs, too.

The gig at Green Lantern was Grade A. Never sold so much merchandise on a Monday: thirteen of Love Hangover Sale, Pt. II, twelve of (return to the) . . . blackhole (of outerspace), fifteen pillow cases, and other odds and ends.

I stayed at my pal Samuel Pixley's farm after the show. He's the farming deejay.

Now it's to Decorah, Iowa.

1/1/06- I'm in Fargo at the Red Raven Cafe. This joint is hip.