In the News:

1. Heath Ledger is dead. Crikey sad! Another awesome Australian bites the dust.

2. My friend Diana Arens, from Olympia, had her last "Free Things Are Cool" radio show on KAOS three days ago. Here's an article about her, with photo. I was briefly interviewed for it, so you can read my thoughts about her there. (FYI, Diana produced my second CD, Love's Hangover Sale, and co-produced my third, Until the End of Time.)

3. Another pal of mine, Vanessa Renwick, had her seven-minute movie, Red Stallion's Revenge, accepted into the International Film Festival Rotterdam (2008). Trisha Lovgren and I co-wrote the score for it, which can be heard on my last CD, Good to Be Awake. The song is called "Death of a Red Mare."

4. A spacious 90-year-old, three-story house in Killdeer is being given away to the first person who will move it and renovate it. It's very tempting to put it on the large empty lot next to my current house. I could fix it up, as time permits, in preparation for a future family. My current nido is barely big enough for two.

If you want to see a creepy five-minute movie called "The Sandman," click here.

Synopsis: Evil Dr. Sandman creates a mechanical girlfriend & names her Olympia.

Happy Birthday! You are still missed.

Here's a song I wrote.

Grandpa bought an old banjo. He wants me to learn how to chord it so we can perform for the elders at Hill Top Home of Comfort. He'd play harmonica. I'm not so sure I'm up to the task, but I'll try.

My brain has really been spinning this weekend. Next summer could be a fruitful one, literally. I plan to pick several dozen gallons of buffalo berries, juneberries, chokecherries, and wild plums, and make jam to give as gifts and sell on tour. I'll even make a fancy label.

When to tour again is the question, though. If Shawn can find a driver, perhaps a week in March, a few weeks in July, and a couple months next winter. That'd be ideal.

Time is on my side.

Yesterday was the official kick-off to Dunn County's 100th Anniversary. I went to two events, one in Killdeer and one in Dodge. There was food, music, comedy, and a speaker. Many more Centennial-related events will be held throughout the next few months.

Our motto is: "A Century Dunn & Just Begun!"

Should be an animated year. The Museum will be hoppin', too, which reminds me . . . it's time to go meet the new curator and find out how he's faring in his new position. He probably has a few questions for me, too.

This is Natalie.

She is sassy.

I love her.

Off to Vancouver, B.C., in a few hours. Shawn's been driving all weekend, so he'll need a rest. I never get tired of seeing the sun rise over the Dakota badlands or the moon float over the Montana Rockies.

On a somber note, two of my best lady friends, Lacy (Shawn's girlfriend) and Natalie (my girlfriend-if-I-lived-in-Olympia), both lost their beloved grandmothers last week. I attended Lacy's grandma's funeral on Saturday. Her name was Martha Dahl Fischer. Shawn says Martha was a "sweet, gentle woman who made the best cookies and lemonade." According to Lacy, "Grandma got kinda feisty in old age, after Grandpa Dutch died." Maybe that's where Lacy gets it!

The glamorous picture to the left is of Natalie's grandmother, Joy, holding one of her children sometime in the early '50s. Natalie says that Joy "kept her sexy legs her whole 79 years."

Rest in peace, Mrs. Fischer and Grandma Joy.

I whupped G & G at Pinochle tonight.

Tour Report, January 2008 :

Show 1: Orcas Island, WA - New Year's Eve show at Doe Bay Resort (see Jan. 2nd entry).

Show 2: Olympia, WA - Tiffany organized a super house-party show. Froseph played, followed by me and then Bryce Panic. Bryce's full-out rap set was revelatory. Froseph put it best: "Bryce is my new, most favorite superhero!"

Show 3: Spokane, WA - Benefit show for A.S.A.P. (I never did learn what that stood for). This was an anarchist house show filled with lots of youthful artists, dumpster divers, bike mechanics, and anti-imperialist tacticians. I played first, then had to split for my downtown show. Froseph reported that the night went swimmingly and he made many friends.

Show 4: Spokane, WA - Benefit show for my gas tank, at Prago Cafe. Prior to the show, the space had been rented by a flock of skydiving enthusiasts who were watching life-sized video projections of themselves leaping from planes, to the music of high-octane hardcore. Isamu Jordan, music columnist for The Spokesman-Review, was there and did a 20-minute interview after my performance. I sold at least 15 hats between sets. Turns out trucker hats are a worthwhile investment, unlike old cowboy boots! All hats were gone by show's end.

Show 5: Missoula, MT - Froseph and I were worried about this show, because I hadn't promoted it very well and because it was scheduled for 3 a.m. in a vintage clothing store. Fortunately, my new good friend Jeff Medley did everything required to make the show a grand success. He made excellent flyers, helped get us a great review--with photo--in the Missoula Independent, and chose the perfect venue: Hausfrau. Johna, the owner of Hausfrau, arranged a sharp opening band (a girl/guy saw-and-banjo duo).

A side-note about Johna: she lived directly across from me in an apartment building in Missoula back in 1989. I had a crush on her, and have wondered what became of her.

After the Missoula fun (thanks again, Jeff & Anne!), Froseph and I, fighting off tiredness, barreled four hours east to Earl and Susan's. The next morning Earl joined us for soak at Boiling River in Yellowstone Park. We discussed philosophy like angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo.*

The next day Froseph & I, like Cassady & Kerouac, drove back to NoDak, where Frojak caught Amtrak home to his Winona shack. Farewell, amigo! Thanks for the great comradery and for recording my songs for the new CD.

*Ginsberg

Different political strategies . . .
(Satire from The Onion)

Just returned home from an epic and excellent music adventure. I'll take a two-hour cat nap, then head back to the coast with Shawn Goodall and a tanker full of bottom feeders. Tomorrow at midnight I'll be in Seattle again.

On Saturday I'll recount the last few shows.

Just rocked out five shows in three days. Froseph and I are now at Earl's in Livingston, about to head down to Boiling River Hot Springs in Yellowstone Park.

Note to Ladies Lawrence & Vine:

I'm still regularly using the Sand Cam!

Today was jam-packed: Radio 8 Ball in Seattle, Olympia show w/ Bryce Panic, everything.

Too tired to write, basically.

Spokane tomorrow!

Just finished recording around 15 new songs in the last 15 hours. Froseph's the producer. Some of the new songs include: "Artesian Lover," "Crazy Animals," "Wedding Song Man," "Natty Joy," "End of America," "The Hermit," & "Shelly the Sea Turtle."

I should mention that the view from the Doe Bay studio is world class. We look out upon Otter Cove and, in fact, can view otter families playing betwixt the salty waves.

One word: Paradiso.
--------------------------------------------

Tiffany.


Froseph & Casandra.

The New Year's show was fun. I played an indoor set 'til about midnight and then a bonfire set 'til about 3 a.m. Sold a lot of trucker hats and antique souvenir soaps!

I'm still here on the island at Doe Bay Resort with Tiffany, Casandra, & Froseph. We've commandeered two large buildings, one for living in and the other for recording in. Froseph and I recorded a couple songs yesterday and hope to capture a dozen more by tonight.

2008! Things are gonna get weird, I have a feeling . . .

Today is the finale of 2007. Greetings from Doe Bay Resort on Orcas Island!

Froseph and I made it over multiple abominably icy Rocky Mountain passes yesterday afternoon and met up with our companeras, Tiffany and Casandra, in Seattle. From there all four of us boogied north to the ferry, arriving with only a minute to spare. Upon arrival at Doe Bay, we promptly stripped down and soaked with other weary revelers.

I arose at 5:30 this morning and strolled to Otter Cove, where I watched the moonset/sunrise. Now the french toast . . . I'll need nourishment for tonight.

Part 1:
Dad picked up Froseph at the Amtrak station in Stanley two days ago. What is a Froseph? Webster's defines one thusly: 1. a dark rainbow, 2. an avalanche of cheer, 3. potential blood beneath the tractor. I'll add a supplemental description: a Froseph is a free-thinking anarchist scavenger with cherubic features and long dreadlocks.

Indeed, my friend Froseph makes your average citizen do a double-take. When Mom took him to the Buckskin Bar for pizza, they were greeted with a friendly but gender-inaccurate Western welcome: "Take a seat, ladies!" Froseph's attire consists of the traditional black anarchist garb plus his own signature pink scarf. He was something perhaps never seen in person by Dunn County eyes. It was as if Chief Sitting Bull's most flamboyant son had nonchalantly walked into General Sully's Army camp prior to battle and helped himself to the slushie machine.

Part 2:
Froseph and I are hurtling west at at 35 miles per hour along icy I-90 like two Jedi pilots navigating through starry snow. We are following behind a snowplow, because the left lane is filled with five inches of powder. We haven't even begun our ascent of Lookout Pass and the roads are as bad as Bryan Adams (Froseph's metaphor, not mine). We are debating whether to pass the plow. The good thing is that at this speed we probably won't get into a serious wreck if we slide off the highway. The bad thing is that we're in a huge hurry to catch the 6:30 ferry out of Anacortes tonight.

Parts 3 & 4:
Days are blurring. Two days ago on my birthday I woke up in Vancouver, British Columbia (auspiciously the city of my birth), and unloaded 10,000 pounds of live fish.

Shawn, my boss/co-driver, recently confided to me that he has trucked over five million miles in his 25-year career. That equates to driving to the moon and back 10 times! By the time I reach Orcas Island tonight, I'll have traveled 5,000 miles in five days.

Silent day, holy day. I've seen not a soul in the last 24 hours. The parents and grandparents are in South Dakota celebrating Christmas with the Spearfish Sands.

Last night I was invited to the Fischer's (my friend Lacy's parents) for walleye and lefse and about 25 other edibles. Delish!

I wake up tomorrow at 4 a.m. to leave for a five-day super adventure. It will culminate with a ferry ride to Orcas Island on January 30th. Once there: music and hot springs.

What child is this, you ask?

Meet Jefferson "Little Bear" Sand, son of cousins Kirby & Megan. Cute!

Merry Christmas, 2007!

Just returned from Vancouver, BC, this morning. Off to Calgary in about 5 minutes. See ya when the days start gettin' longer!

I let go of Excalibur today. Took him to Rummel's Wrecking Yard and got paid $75 by Mr. Arnold Rummel himself.

I'd purchased Excalibur from another wrecking yard, in Salmon, Idaho, three years ago (which is where I turned my silver 1984 Subaru, 319 JOE, loose). Excalibur, like Joe, was a fine automobile. He took me thousands of miles and, against all odds, never let me miss a show or left me stranded somewhere I didn't want to be. He gave his all, no doubt, and for this I give a HUGE thanks.

And a song:

Exalibur is a mighty fine car
And a mighty fine car is he.
He'll rock it to the east and he'll rock it to the west
From the north to the south country.
He knows how to travel, he can ride on the gravel
He can ride on the super highway.
When a maiden's in trouble, he'll arrive on the double
With a whoop and a yippee-ki-yay!

Excalibur is a mighty fine car
And a mighty fine car is he.
918 is his license plate
He's a Buick Century.
If he runs out of gas on a mountain pass
He'll take it to the very tip top.
And then he'll coast, to the town most close
On the vapors from the tank's last drop. Boom!

(Farewell, old friend.)

I, like most trucking troubadours my age, wallow in existential agony 99% of the time. At any given moment we're either angry, depressed, worried, confused, apathetic, isolated, or achy--usually all at once. It's hard on a body, I say.

I have empathy for food inhalers, sleepwalkers, TV zombies, suicide rockers, cutter queens, bank drainers, adrenaline junkies, porn pilgrims, whiskey drifters, runaway brides, et cetera.

Everyone needs escape.

But then there are those who appear to fit in well on Planet Earth. The pure ones. The tranquil ones. The selfless ones. The steadfast ones. The independent ones. The eternal ones. Ones, ones, ones, ones . . .

Ones & zeros. Bums & heroes. Nuns & Neros. Scums & Cheerios.

The world operates on a spectrum system; it's neither black & white NOR shades of gray. There is right and wrong, and there is truth. But it's every color, every combination, every emotion, every texture. It's all-encompassing, messy, & wild. It's up for discussion. It smells like roast beef & diesel. It's something I'll probably regret writing about tomorrow morning.

Welcome to the world-as-I-feel-it: Sandland. A place where blogging is meditation sans destination. A coyote cave littered with skunk bones. My home away from home when I'm already home.

Just returned from another wild Canadian fish chase. Starting next Tuesday, I'll do three consecutive runs with only a day off for Christmas. Then, the day I return (December 29th), I'll have to somehow get back to Washington for a New Year's Eve show at Doe Bay on Orcas Island.

Here's the promo write-up they posted on their website last spring:

Come and shake out the old year and ring in the new with one of the best and most unique acts to be seen on either side of the Hundredth Meridian. Package details to be announced in June. Drinks, desserts, a brunch, and the superlative soundings of Sandman make the year start off with a hipster twang of joy and cheer.

P.s. This is a small trucker's prayer I created to calm my nerves while driving:

Lord, teach me to feel that Thou art the power behind all internal combustion and the stopping ability behind all air brakes.

Happy 60th Birthday, Dad! I love you.

I dedicate this song to you, written by Gene Autry in 1932.

Back when your hair was golden brown.

This driving 1,000-miles-a-day business does strange things to a human body. It's as if magic highway dust enters one's bloodstream like an anti-depressant. The moment the wheels stop rolling, though, you feel lost. Your bones ache.

What a winter this will be--different in every way than anything I've known! Filled with financial gain, icy terrors, roadkill, and celibacy. What kind of monk am I becoming?

As for music: I'm Mt. Rainier, waiting.

And as for the documentary: I'm the gander, not the geese.

As for women: I'm Neil Young, circa 1971, and I just wrote "Heart of Gold."

We take off at 5 a.m. tomorrow for another Renville, MN, to Vancouver, BC, flying fish adventure. Protect us.

Can't think of what to write this week. A lot has happened, but I'm not too inspired to write about it.

It was pleasant to visit Canada. Unloading live fish in the Chinese district of Vancouver, B.C., is something I'll be doing a lot over the next year. I was impressed watching Shawn navigate a 64' tractor-trailer unit through 48 city stoplights (I counted). It takes plenty of skill to weave through those hilly, narrow streets during morning rush hour.

A batch of Minnesota tilapia were fed some bad pellets and perished, so we're unsure when we'll have our next load. Had to cancel the Calgary run on Friday and might lose our Vancouver run this week, too.