Sunday, 28 August, 2011
swims, spins, and wins
"I don't take photos, I am them." -CWP
I'll begin at the end. Instead of unpacking my camping gear, I drank leftover wine and recorded 2 more demos for the new alb. The first was an instrumental track called 'The Palm Leaves,' inspired by feelings of both triumph and slaughter on a Sunday morning balcony in Mexico. Needless to say, I was in the right frame of mind today, after a 3-day-weekend on the beach, Harrison Lake beach, my beach, bitch. And now I'm the living proof that some sort of success can still be achieved after 4 camping trips in 5 weeks. Hard to tell which one was best, many unique moments of grins, guns, and glory. I came home today in the perfect mood to record a wordless song about relaxation and sunshine.
I can't not camp, it's my favorite summer weekend activity. I didn't exist in between those 4 trips. Just ask facebook. Sweating-out the days in an aggressive haze of preparation. Meg did most of the work, so I did most of the on-location cooking. I believe that a Good Camping Breakfast is crucial to the success of a Good Camping Day, and I have the 1-Pan-Party down to an art form. Clay-Pan style. Real real panny panda-monium.
We did the Harrison beach trip at each end of our camping marathon, and my golf tee's were right where I left them. 1 on Dan's Rock, the other stuck in a large piece of long-swim-attained drift wood. Although by the 2nd trip I had already stolen a rubber tee to share with the entire gallery. Felt slightly stunned that, after 5 weeks, it appeared that nobody else had camped in our spot, adding much needed nostalgia to our vodka waters. My Canada flag was gone, so I raised a new one twice as high. I'll bet it's still there right now, lonely but proud in the evening breeze.
Harrison, Sweltzer Creek, Squamish, and Harrison #2...so long and thanks for all the photos.
Sunday, 7 August, 2011
sunday and me
woke up naked, broke, and breaking bones in my hand
pounding on the pillow like a Portuguese man
had the red gloves on, all ready to fight
the tools were in the tunnel but the train did not arrive.
im bad at twitter and was sorta-bad at golf today.
but i still love the game like butter on cheese, and spent the day in a sunny park with 3 great men.
aly had a chip-in bird, my dad hit the long ball, and clay found god.
bbq'd wings when i got home.
with a caesar on the side, instead of more wings.
some days i feel like 28 years of marinating, down the drain.
but not today.
listening to Nebraska and thinking about grade 10.
with hallway glory pouring all over everything.
like cats meeting other cats for the first time, big big purr-fest.
theo resents that, and me, and everything else on holiday long weekends.
credit dropped, he is an asset of the shedding movement.
white hair, everywhere.
Granville Island is a very special place.
especially for day-drinkers with artistic attitudes.
stories get sung, grass hills get invaded, and the sky gets louder at night.
'chaos august' is clearly doing it's dirty thing to me.
with alota live music and waterslides in the near future.
stop this, why didn't you record more demos tonight?
"I’ve done it before, and I’d do it again,
cause it’s the only time that makes me feel,
like I’m my own best friend." -JP
mouthwash in the morning.
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