Hot Rock Week
I got all high stakes last week and gambled a couple important evening hours on some important rock shows—Red Fang, Danava, and White Glove, specifically. All these bands are from my town, and all of them are comprised by one or more of my pals.
There was waiting in line outside in the cold, there was pushing through crowds, there was much getting breathed on. Turns out none of these things are all that bad.
Red Fang rocked transcendent like always. I experienced a rare (and prized!) Christopher J. Coyle sighting, as well as loud-as-fuck guitars. No earplugs. No nothing. You just let it wash over you in its natural, blistering state.
Danava was all hair, denim, and hot licks. The very thing for a glum Thursday when you coulda easily ended up in a downward spiral of Peaky Blinders.
White Glove, I mean it's White Glove! They write songs about Rick McCrank! You go see ’em when you want to laugh and dance around in the front row.
Been Watching
Wild: As good as the book? Not sure. Was the book even that good? There's the worst computer-generated fox in there, and yet, the thrust of the story does carry you along with it. What I mainly took away was something I already know, about how you travel to inner places when you're alone in the wilderness—some dark and some not. You chew on shit, and then you come out the other side. Redemption, et cetera.
St. Vincent: Please do see this—one of those inspired films that remains undecided about what it is. On the surface ... so fucking funny. But underneath, it's really very, very sad.
Chinese Puzzle: French movies are just better—better actors with more interesting faces and a different way of looking at shit. This here is a lovable French rom-com streaming on Netflix right now—about how life's all complicated, but at the same time, it's not.
Tangled Up In Blues
We always did see the same, we just saw it from a different point of view.
Winter War
When I did my Year In Pictures, the thought that life really is better in the summer crossed my mind. It just gives you a nice feeling, scrolling through the months and seeing things get warmer and warmer. Bare branches and billows of fog replaced by vermillion blooms. Dark bars and beanies switched out for beer glasses sparkling like jewels in the sun.
Winter's dark. Especially so far north, so deep into the rain forest. But I like to think of us as warriors this time of year. Everyday, refusing to just stay in bed like we want to. Everyday, working, skating, laughing—continuing life, really, even through the dark, dampness, and gloom.
Also! We need winter I reckon—even the kind of winter we have here in the Northwest. It's restorative, for one, and, like Rilke says, it gives you all that time to propagate your "inner life":
"Tending my inner garden went splendidly this winter. Suddenly to be healed again and aware that the very ground of my being — my mind and spirit — was given time and space in which to go on growing; and there came from my heart a radiance I had not felt so strongly for a long time…"
So anyway, here's to winter, and to seeing y'all on the other side.
Yes, Please
Check it out. Everyone wants to start January all fresh and clean-slate style. But I can't be bothered with that. I like this old self of mine. I like where it's come from. Et cetera.
What I do want for this year (and this life) is to be totally light of step. Positive. Like a charged ion drifting by on the breeze of life.
"I wish to be at any time hereafter only a yea-sayer!" says Nietzsche (and that dude was a gloomy motherfucker).
Like Frederick, then, I'm about to be "Yes!" to all of it. Want to grill me a pizza? I'll eat it. Want to dance to a country tune with me? I'll gladly do it. Want me to climb a hellaceous peak with you? Want to road trip across the country? Want me to write the bio for your Web site? Want help moving? Want to take me on a date? Now's the time to ask, people. I'll (probs) say yeah!
Grilled pizzas and honky tonkin' on NYE. Salut!
