Silhouettes of Birds and Trees

The New American Flag

2008-03-10T14:04:00.001-07:00

We here at Silhouettes of Birds and Trees would like to submit the following as a model for a new version of the American flag.

The United States of Truckasaurus. Yeah, motherfucker, yeah.

Dylanesque

2008-02-14T12:49:00.000-08:00

There are certain musical artists who possess voices that absolutely DO NOT appeal to a large segment of the music-listening public. This has always been the case. A lot of people didn't like Elvis's twang, Buddy Holly's "o-ah-oh" pronunciations, or Johnny Cash's semi-monotonous (yet still awesome) baritone growl, or even Frank Sinatra's croon (how could you not like that?).

In the annals of American popular music, I would have to say that at the top of this "acquired taste" heap would have to be Bob Dylan's nasally, whiny, uber-literate wheeze.

For the non-initiated Dylan listener, the first thing that a critic will generally seize on is the purported "fact" that "BOB DYLAN CAN'T SING!" While somewhat true in a traditional sense - he doesn't possess what passes for a generally-accepted beautiful singing voice - Bob Dylan used what he had and in so doing, made "not singing" an absolute art form. By becoming a world renown singer/songwriter without a great singing voice, he paved the way for many, many, many others who were in a similar predicament - they had something important to say through their music, but lacked the traditionally beautiful singing voice that was generally necessary to become a recording artist.

Dylan shattered that mold. And in terms of his own relevance, the quality of his singing voice is absolutely unimportant. Regardless of whether or not one likes Bob Dylan (and his accompanying vocal chords), at this point in history, his contributions that to popular music cannot be denied.

He single-handedly changed the face of folk, rock n' roll, and one could argue, country, during his heyday in the 60's. In "going electric" at the Newport Folk Festival on July 25, 1965, he simultaneously changed the direction of both folk music and rock music. His onetime backing band - aptly and simply known as The Band went on to become one of the most influential groups in rock history. Beyond the popularity of his own songs, cover versions of his songs are now counted as several of the most popular songs in American music history - "All Along the Watchtower" as performed by Jimi Hendrix, "Blowin' in the Wind" as performed by The Kingston Trio, Joan Baez, and Peter, Paul, and Mary, "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" as performed by Eric Clapton, Guns n' Roses, and Warren Zevon, "Mr. Tambourine Man" by The Byrds, "Forever Young" as sung by Rod Stewart, and many, many more.

Thousands of artists count Dylan as an inspiration and many have attempted to usurp his lyrical style and seemingly scattershot stream-of-consciousness poetry. Lyrics have always been viewed as "poetic," but nobody in popular music - at least within the folk genre - over the past 50 years has been as prolific or poetic as Dylan (even though Leonard Cohen is close - if not nearly as popular - and Nick Drake might have come close had he not died so young). Not quite as many artists have attempted to emulate his vocal style, however. Until relatively recently, that is - with similarly polarizing results.

Folk has always been a relatively popular genre, but after its popularity explosion during the late 60's and early 70's, it was generally relegated to the soft-rock Dan Fogelberg/James Taylor/John Denver/Harry Chapin/Jim Croce adult-contemporary music store shelf. It pretty much stayed there for about 30 years. After the turn of the millennium, however, folk music has made a strong resurgence into the popular music consciousness. Folk is now pretty much par for the course in alternative and indie rock music. Sufjan Stevens, Devendra Banhart, Jose Gonzales, Joanna Newsom, Iron & Wine, The Avett Brothers, and countless others have taken up the mantle in the neo-folk (and/or freak folk) movement.

The Hold Steady' s Craig Finn is an ridiculously literate front man with pretty much no singing ability. He sing-speaks all of his meanderingly poetic stories over his band's good old fashioned bar rock. Joanna Newsom mewls her way through bizarre lyrics in (some would say) excruciating fashion while simultaneously playing exceptionally beautiful music on her harp (yes, harp). Devendra Banhart's nasal vibrato sounds like pretty much nothing else - perhaps an elf singing whilst sitting atop a shuddering washing machine. The point is - these singers are currently extremely popular - and simultaneously extremely unpopular. People either love them or hate them (Me personally - I love The Hold Steady and Devendra Banhart, but I'd rather have screwdrivers jammed into the corners of my eyes than listen to Joanna Newsom) - there's very little "grey area" in between.

But not many folks purposefully emulate Dylan's nasal whine...mostly for fear of being labeled "Dylanesque" idol worshipers who apparently don't have the creative capacity to come up with a style of their own. Being considered "unoriginal" in indie-rock circles is generally considered worse than just being flat-out bad. Being told that you sound "just like someone else" is generally considered a kiss of death in modern rock music.

So it comes as somewhat of a surprise that there now exist two bands (that I have recently come across) that make absolutely no attempt to hide the fact that the sound strikingly similar to Bob Dylan. And I would assume that if asked, they would both not hesitate to list him as one of their main influences. And amazingly, they are both growing in popularity and national prominence - and they both kick ass in a big way.

The Felice Brothers

The first group that I'd like to mention is The Felice Brothers. The are a bizarre outfit of brothers (minus friend Christmas) from the Woodstock, NY area. The sing songs of vengeance, redemption, failed relationships, and broken-down welterweights. In a similar vein to Dylan and The Band, their music (and the themes therein) are generally almost universal. The songs almost sound as if they could have been written in 1850 - or just as easily 2008.

Many people seem to be fighting their popularity because they assume that The Felice Brothers are simply utilizing the same route already treaded by Dylan and The Band. Me personally, I don't see anything AT ALL wrong with that...we could use some music that good in today's increasingly terrible musical landscape. But if you ever see these guys live, it becomes evident fairly quickly that they aren't really "putting on a show" or "impersonating" anyone...they are who they are, they sing what they sing, and they're not doing it for anyone but themselves. Very impressive.

Here's a little blurb about them:

"They charm like a snake oil salesmen in a 19th-century medicine show; they stomp the boards like spirit-filled preachers; they close their eyes when they croon their imperfect (and therefore paradoxically perfect) Catskill Mountain harmonies; they smile wickedly when they drop into a groove; they bring a little bit of that front porch feeling with them wherever they go.....and their all the more golden and beautiful for it."
Gabe Soria / Mojo Magazine

I highly recommend checking them out.
Their Myspace Page - (especially check out "Frankie's Gun")
Their Website

Ezra Furman & The Harpoons

I'm not really even going to try to explain these guys. They are a band from Boston/Chicago. They are completely different than The Felice Brothers - Ezra's lyrics tend to be one of two things - either exceptionally biographical or fullblown stream-of-consciousness insanity. In both cases, they are very affecting. And his voice - that shrieking, nasally, weird voice - unapologetically reminiscent of Dylan. Actually, Ezra's much less restrained than Dylan. Check him out, as well.

EF & TH Myspace - especially I Dreamed of Moses
EF & TH Web Site

The Ghost Cat of Old Ford Road

2008-01-14T14:13:00.001-08:00

I just reread the title of this blog. It sounds like one of the titles to what were my favorite books growing up - those Hardy Boys Mystery novels (the original ones, mind you - not those crappy "Undercover Brothers" ones that stink up bookstore shelves now).

If only Frank and Joe (and perhaps their somewhat rotund friend Chet Morton) could be around to help me solve the mystery of "The Ghost Cat of Old Ford Road."

(TUESDAY)

It all started late last Tuesday evening. I drove home as I normally do - and backed my van down the driveway. I left the van running while I opened the garage door and turned on the interior light. As soon as I hit the switch, I heard a muffled rustling in the rear righthand corner of the room. Thinking that I might be having some auditory hallucinations, I shrugged it off and started to walk back toward the van.

Another bit of rustling and out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a black and white blur go streaking behind some shelving. After getting over the initial surprise at having a relatively large animal (not huge - but large - as compared to, lets's say, a sparrow) banging around inside I spent the next ten minutes poking and prodding behind the pile of junk in the back of my garage trying to determine what it was that I had seen and heard.

The flash again! Yes - this time I had seen it relatively clearly. It was definitely a cat. A black and white cat.

I rummaged around in the garage for a little while longer. Moving things, lifting things, uncovering hiding places, et cetera. I neither saw nor heard the beast again that evening.

After pulling the van into the garage, I began to think about what had just happened....I'm sure that you observant readers noticed earlier that I wrote that I had to "open the garage door" when I got back. This obviously means that my garage door had been SHUT AND LOCKED all day long. I had opened it for approximately 15 seconds while I drove the van out in the morning while leaving for work - and other than that, it had been shut and locked since approximately 6pm the night before.

And as far as I knew, there was no animal in the garage when I had locked the door more than 24 hours previously.

The evening passed. I made several trips out to the garage to get things out of the van, to get firewood, and to unceremoniously bang on the lawnmower with a fork. The latter was meant to startle the "ghost cat" into revealing itself. It never happened.

(WEDNESDAY)

I got up the next day, did my usual routine, checked the garage again (still nothing), and left the house for work around 8am.

When I returned at around 6pm, I again did the usual - backed the van up the driveway, got out and opened the garage door, flicked on the interior light - this time there was no rustling. I banged on the lawnmower a couple of times to make sure that there was nothing inside. No movement, no noise, no nothing. So I went out and backed the van inside.

I parked, turned off the vehicle, got out, and walked around to the passenger side so that I could get all my stuff together to bring inside the house. I put on my backpack and grabbed a few cds and my coffee cup and went to open the door to the house.

My eyes happened to be drawn down toward the doormat. There, on the matted wicker, lay multiple relatively freshly-squeezed pieces of cat shit.

I nearly dropped my coffee-cup in a slow motion cinematic way just to illustrate the shock paired with fear that I was feeling. But instead, I went inside and got a dustpan, collected the "leavings" and launched them into the yard.

I went back inside and made myself some dinner. As I ate, I thought about this conundrum again.

"Okay," I thought to myself, "I made sure that there was no cat in the garage this morning, right?

"Yes," I answered myself.

"So...how the fuck did a cat get into a locked garage in order to leave a pile of shit on my door mat?" I asked myself, knowing full-well that I didn't know the answer.

"I don't know," I answered myself needlessly.

I called my wife and told her about the cat shit. She thought that was pretty weird, as well - especially as we had hardly seen any cats in the general vicinity of the house since we began living there in September.

I checked the garage a few more times on Wednesday evening, but there was no sign of my feline buddy the ghost shitter.

(THURSDAY)

On Thursday, I did all my normal morning stuff. Except this time, I pulled the van out of the garage and spent about 15 minutes looking through as much of the contents as I could get to before I left for work. No sign of the cat. Or its shit.

I made sure that there were no hairy feline-like creatures in the garage before I left for the day. I shut the door slowly - while simultaneously scanning the surrounding environs - making sure that nothing darted in before I could get the door to the ground.

I left and didn't think about it again until about three-quarters of the way through the workday when I wrote to my friend Jeff via AOL instant messenger during the day and told him about the ghost cat. Here is a short excerpt:

Bushead78: On a bodily function note...yesterday, I found a pile of cat shit on the doormat in front of the door to my kitchen - INSIDE OF MY LOCKED GARAGE.

GaryBuseyLives: wait wait...WHAT?

Bushead78: I think that I have a ghost cat shitting on my door mat.

GaryBuseyLives: old on...I need...I need air...air...okay...holy shit that's funny. Shitting ghost cat.

Yup, we had a pretty good laugh about that. I thought our little exchange was quite hilarious.

Until I got home.

I opened the garage door - went inside and flicked on the lights. And on the other side of the garage - in a wide-open space between the snowblower and the a pile of boxes that we had yet to unpack upon moving in - was ANOTHER BIG PILE OF FRESH CAT SHIT.

And these were huge turds, by the way - giant hair-covered cat plops. Apparently this ghost cat had been eating antacid tablets or sawdust or something in order to save up its shit in an effort to unleash it in a hellacious constipated fury all over the floor of my garage.

This shit looked fresh. Like it had just stopped steaming in the chill winter air.

In a relative panic, I looked all over the garage again...no cat. But when it comes down to it, I don't suppose that you're really supposed to be able to see a shitting ghost cat anyway, right? I bit freaked out, I managed to once again play dustpan lacrosse with the semi-frozen cat shit and tossed it into the road at the end of my driveway.

I have not seen or heard the cat since - nor have I seen any cat "remnants" since last Thursday. Perhaps this ghost cat has moved on from the apparent purgatory that was my garage - to pet heaven (or more likely hell).

Or maybe, just maybe - it's now taking colossal cat shits in some other sorry bastard's garage.

A Necessary Update on Top Albums of 2007

2007-12-13T15:10:00.000-08:00

Dan, you were right. Year-end "best-of" lists that come out several weeks before the end of the year are premature and can come back to bite you in the ass. I bow to your useless knowledge.

Therefore, I have to make a couple of updates to my list. I've recently come into possession of two albums that I didn't not have when I wrote my list last week. And they both fucking rock. So, instead of re-posting the entire list of albums from my previous entry, I will just post my "new" top twenty with the two new additions in bold.

Here it is:

Bob's Top Twenty Albums of 2007 (with that new car smell)

20. Iron & Wine - The Shepherd's Dog
19. Eluvium - Copia
18. Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
17. Band of Horses - Cease to Begin
16. The Shins - Wincing the Night Away
15. Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band - Magic
14. Levon Helm - Dirt Farmer
13. The New Pornographers - Challengers
12. Menomena - Friend and Foe
11. Jens Lekman - Night Falls on Kortedala
10. Yeasayer - All Hour Cymbals
9. Wilco - Sky Blue Sky
8. Cloud Cult - The Meaning of 8
7. MGMT - Ocular Spectacular
6. The Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
5. The Mother Hips - Kiss the Crystal Flake
4. Okkervil River - The Stage Names
3. Josh Ritter - The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter
2. The Avett Brothers - Emotionalism
1. The National - Boxer

The Best Albums of 2007

2007-12-06T17:28:00.000-08:00

That's right, folks! It's that time of the year again already!

- and I'm not talking about those darkening December days when it's socially acceptable to start drinking heavily at 4:30pm...that's just a noticeably positive side effect of this time of the year -

I'm talking about that special special time of the year when people start to come out with "Best Of.." lists! I'm sure that I could list off "best ofs" in several different categories, but my main area of interest happens to be music, so I think that I'll continue an annual trend and list my - THE BEST ALBUMS OF 2007!

As always, I only list albums that I, myself, purchased in 2007. I don't think that it's fair to just randomly assign numbers to albums that I haven't spent a good deal of time listening to. So...on my list, you will not find Smoke by White Williams, The Besnard Lakes are the Dark Horse by The Besnard Lakes, Sound of Silver by LCD Soundsystem, or Graduation by Kanye West - amongst many, many other probably worthy competitors.

My list will include all of the new albums that I bought in 2007 - rated from worst to best (some of them will have little descriptions explaining why they're rated where they're rated. Keep in mind, however - that these are just the albums that I bought this year - so I thought enough of these to actually buy them to begin with.

I always enjoy writing this (mostly because I'm a music freak)...so I hope that you enjoy reading it. Without further adieu, I give you my

BEST ALBUMS OF 2007

64. Son Volt - The Search
Oddly, I really looked forward to this album. After 2005's Okemah and the Melody of Riot, I thought that Farrar and company had turned a corner. Alas, the band seems to have abandoned it's transition toward roots-rock in favor of, well, The Search. And that's not a good thing. I didn't really enjoy this album at all. Boring.

63. Ben Lee - Ripe
Awake is the New Sleep was excellent. Ripe is not. At all. It's filled with cliche-riddled pop songs with no depth - some of them even blatantly catered to fit into the coveted "primetime television series soundtrack" genre. Just listen to the song "American Television" and tell me I'm wrong.

62. Assembly of Dust - Recollection
61. Addison Groove Project - Waiting Room
60. Papercuts - Can't Go Back
59. Animal Collective - Strawberry Jam
I know for a fact that this album will show up on a lot of critic's top ten lists at the end of the year. I always find Animal Collective tolerable, but never overly listenable. I had heard that this one was "different" and more accessible. But mainly, I just found it weird - and repetitive. And - amazingly enough - pretty boring because of it.

58. Apostle of Hustle - National Anthem of Nowhere
57. The Clientele - God Save the Clientele
56. I'm From Barcelona - Let Me Introduce My Friends
55. P.G. Six - Slightly Sorry
This album from little known NYC indie includes one of my favorite songs of the year - "The Dance." A great song on an otherwise okay album.

54. Blue Scholars - Bayani
Probably the only hiphop album I bought this year (I'm not a huge hiphop guy) is very very good. But like I said, I'm not a huge hiphop guy. So there you have it.

53. Greyboy Allstars - What Happened to Television?
52. The Twilight Sad - Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters
51. Bright Eyes - Cassadaga
50. Tishamingo - The Point
49. Dr. Dog - We All Belong
These guys are fantastic live. Great energy. Album is very good, too.

48. Rogue Wave - Asleep at Heaven's Gate
47. Against Me! - New Wave
46. Of Montreal - Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?
45. A Band of Bees - Octopus
44. Elvis Perkins - Ash Wednesday
43. Dungen - Tio Bitar (Swedish psychedelia! Yes!)
42. The Sea and Cake - Everybody
41. Gogol Bordello - Super Taranta
This album is "batshit crazy" - but includes one of my favorite lines of any song this year - on "Supertheory of Supereverything" the lyrics go:

"First time I had read the Bible
It had stroke my as unwitty
I think it may started rumor
That the Lord aint' got no humor"

40. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Baby 81
39. Ben Harper & The Innocent Criminals - Lifeline
38. Steve Earle - Washington Square Serenade
37. Art Brut - It's a Bit Complicated
36. Trey Anastasio - Horseshoe Curve
35. Brent Amaker and the Rodeo - Brent Amaker and the Rodeo
Unless you're from Seattle, you probably haven't heard of these guys. They're like a mix between Johnny Cash and Southern Culture on the Skids - just pure ridiculous macho bravado, but with a great footstomping country beat.

34. Dappled Cities - Granddance
33. Umphrey's McGee - The Bottom Half
32. ALO - Roses and Clover
31. The Gourds - Noble Creatures
30. Graham Parker - Please Don't Tell Columbus
The song "Please Don't Tell Columbus" is one of my favorites of the entire year. Just a genius critique of the current state of America. The rest of the album from this former punker turner agitated folky is great, too.

29. Great Lake Swimmers - Ongiara
28. Grace Potter and the Nocturnals - This is Somewhere
27. Eddie Vedder - Soundtrack to the Motion Picture Into the Wild
This is a great movie - and the soundtrack goes with it perfectly. A few of the songs on this sucker stick with you - especially if you share in my love for the original book by Jon Krakauer.

26. Robert Plant & Alison Krauss - Raising Sand
Great album from an unlikely duo. It works, though - it definitely works.

25. moe. - The Conch
24. The Fratellis - Costello Music
23. Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings - 100 Days, 100 Nights
I love Sharon Jones. There, I said it.

22. The White Stripes - Icky Thump
21. MIKA - Life in Cartoon Motion
20. Feist - The Reminder
19. Amy Winehouse - Back to Black
Hopefully she'll be alive long enough for a follow-up to this fantastic album. I would probably put it higher on my list if Amy Winehouse didn't annoy the shit out of me so much.

18. Iron & Wine - The Shepherd's Dog
17. Eluvium - Copia
16. Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
15. Band of Horses - Cease to Begin
This album would be one of those archetype of genius albums if it would have had 3 or 4 more solid songs. As it is, it's a great album - but - and this is a big but - it feels rushed. Like this excellent band was trying to capitalize on the success of their latest album Everything All The Time. Which was unnecessary because they're a really good band and will be around for awhile. The album is really really short - and has a random 1-minute instrumental "filler." I'm telling you - with 3 or 4 more decent songs, this would have been an epic album.

14. The Shins - Wincing the Night Away
13. Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band - Magic
12. Levon Helm - Dirt Farmer
For more on this album and why it's so high on my list - besides the fact that it's a frigging fantastic Americana/bluegrass/roots album - read my blog from a few months ago.

11. The New Pornographers - Challengers
10. Menomena - Friend and Foe
9. Jens Lekman - Night Falls on Kortedala
This guy is a fantastic writer. Simultaneously dark and dreary and utterly hilarious.

8. Wilco - Sky Blue Sky
7. Cloud Cult - The Meaning of 8
6. The Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
5. The Mother Hips - Kiss the Crystal Flake
4. Okkervil River - The Stage Names
3. Josh Ritter - The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter
When I first got this album, I wasn't sold on it. The writing doesn't seem to be as "put together" as his last few albums. However, that's for a reason - this is Ritter's "loose" album - time to get a little crazy and put together some songs that will work better for a band in a live setting. And after some time digesting it...I really, really, really love this album. Not quite as much as last year's #1 album The Animal Years, but #3 is pretty damn good, as well.

2. The Avett Brothers - Emotionalism
My vote for song of the year is a tie between "Shame" and "Die, Die, Die" by the Avett Brothers and "Fake Empire" by...

1. The National - Boxer
The album starts out with my favorite song of the entire year named "Fake Empire" (the part where the drums come in around the 1:43 mark is - by far - my favorite few seconds of studio music in all of 2007) and doesn't slow down from there. This is an absolutely fantastic album. The entire thing is solid - with great lyrics, interesting lead vocals, and great music. This has been my #1 since it came out in late May. I've been waiting for another album to come along and take over the top spot, but it just hasn't happened. This is the epic album of the year. And I'm guessing that quite a few critics, magazines, and bloggers will agree with me.

The Obligatory Thanksgiving Blog

2007-12-05T13:50:00.000-08:00

In his blog from a few weeks ago, my friend Dan wrote at length about the "Woody Allen Question," a query based on a question asked of Woody Allen's character in the movie Manhattan. His character, Isaac Davis, is asked (i'm paraphrasing): "what are the things that make life worth living?"

In true Woody Allen fashion, he neurotically answers the question with a lot of "uhs...," "hmmms...," "wells...," and various sentence fragments about art, movies, music, and culture.

Well, I know that I've touched on the fringes of this question before and probably answered it peripherally, but I don't believe that I've ever really attacked it head-on. And seeing as how Thanksgiving just passed us by, I figure that it 'tis the season to think about the things that are truly important in life.

Specifically, in my life.

Now - how to approach this?

Hmmm....well, obviously this is a difficult question to answer. For a couple of reasons. The most obvious being that the question itself is very, very general. There are hundreds (if not thousands or millions) of things in the world that make "life worth living" for people. To distill these endless possibilities into a list of your own personal "things to be thankful for" is quite difficult.

On a secondary level, this is a difficult question for me on a personal level. This is the case mostly because I've been such an insufferable bastard for the past couple of years. "What?" you ask? Come on, folks...you don't have to pretend to be shocked. I'll admit it...I have been cynical and negative and probably kind of a pain in the ass to spend time with.

Worst of all, however, I know when I act like that. One thing that I will say for myself is that I'm exceptionally self-aware - and pretty astute. I tend to realize what situation I'm in, how I'm reacting to it, and how others are reacting to me all of the time - which is both a blessing and a curse. Lately, my attitude and resulting interactions with people seems to have been an ongoing series of bizarre scenarios where I actually know that I'm doing something that I shouldn't be doing - acting like a jerk, being annoyed/annoying, treating people badly, complaining about stuff, being overtly negative, getting angry for no apparent reason - and for whatever reason, I am nearly powerless to stop it. In some ways, it feels like I've conditioned myself toward these types of reactions.

You see, my entire personality and outlook changed while I lived in Seattle. Don't get me wrong - I've always been sarcastic and a bit cynical - but prior to the last few years, I always held a pretty positive perspective on the world (and the people in it). Even though I am a natural introvert, I really enjoyed the process of communal interaction. I was generally cheerful, often just plain goofy, and usually quite considerate and caring, even though my sense of humor tended to be relatively dark and I definitely had the propensity for periods of extreme instrospection and sometimes - might as well not candy-coat it - depression (which were usually pretty short and kept pretty personal).

I moved to Seattle (and the West Coast, in general) with very good intentions and an excited, eager - hell, nearly a giddy outlook. I was flat-out happy to be moving to an area that I had built up so much in my mind. To me, the Pacific Northwest was the epitome of "cool" - where music, nature, cofee, and outdoor sports ruled and laid back and progressive attitudes prevailed. Well, you could say that I was slightly underwhelmed by the time that I spent there - not by the area, mind you (the natural surroundings are AWESOME out there) - but by the lack of meaningful friendships that we were able to foster and our seeming inability to find comfortable social surroundings. While I definitely did make good friends - friends that I truly value and appreciate - I really never felt accepted or welcomed by Seattle in general. Although very polite, Seattle is absolutely notorious for being a very unfriendly place for those perceived as "outsiders." It's called "The Seattle Freeze" and people have written about it...like this article, for instance (which sums it up quite nicely).

At least partially due to this, somewhere in the last four years, I seem to have developed a sort of wall around myself. I became very cynical and negative - and created a persona for myself that seemed to scream, "you know what? who gives a shit." After awhile (and after coming to the realization that my efforts to make friends seemed to be a pretty futile enterprise), I pretty much stopped making an effort to be pleasant to people and started saying pretty much whatever I was thinking - which was usually quite negative. A few people thought that this was pretty funny and those people tended to like me. Most people were probably somewhat alienated by it - which was fine with me - I was feeling alienated, anyway.

The issue with the "who gives a shit" attitude - for me, at least - is that deep down, I really do give a shit. This is problematic. When your external persona doesn't match your internal composition, you're pretty much asking for personal trouble.

After a couple of years of feeling pretty "down" about everything and really wanting to get back to the east coast to be closer to family, I have come to the conclusion that I really don't like the personality that I've developed over the past few years. It's all sarcasm, cynicism, and cold intellect - which is great for an observational comedian or someone who succeeds wildly at pub trivia - but not so much for someone who is generally lonely and just wants to make friends in unfamiliar places. My personality has become a series of self-defense mechanisms. That's not me - not really, anyway.

Wow, those preceeding few paragraphs were the most personal things that I've written in quite awhile. Didn't expect all of that to come out. Anyway - sorry for the long and personal diatribe about my mental shortcomings...but this does relate to the original topic...and hey...at least I'm being honest.

Back to the original point...in conjunction with development of my irritating alterna-personality, it also seems that I have somehow lost my ability to decipher what it is that I really enjoy. I don't enjoy much of anything in the truest sense of the word lately. I don't even really get excited about things that I know that I really like. Which makes it pretty damn hard to write out a list of "things that make life worth living" or "things to be truly thankful for."

I mean - it's easy to write this list in generalities - you can put together a list of "stuff I'm thankful for" in about two seconds if you don't really give it any thought. For most people, a list consisting of: family, friends, neighbors, their town/city, pets, love, a scattering of nature-related references, and a few random material things would most likely suffice. A list like that could be written by a second-grader for a class project in about 15 minutes (figuring in breaks for paste-eating and vigorous nose-picking).

But when you're considering this list, I think that it's more important that you be specific. What - exactly - do you value? What makes you happy?

Well, now that I've bored you with an exceptionally long (and likely irritating) introduction, here is my list of "things to be thankful for" and/or "things that make life worth living." It's by no means a complete list, but these are the things that come to my mind when I consider my own contentment.

Thanks for reading.

Things That Make Life Worth Living
(or Things I'm Thankful For)

The feeling I get from writing.
A cold wind.
Climbing on rocks, but not necessarily rock climbing.
Seeing my family happy.
Anticapatory gut tightening before plummeting down a steep ski run.
Pumpkins and hay rides.
Trying to see things from a kid's perspective.
Watching someone slip on ice (but not get hurt).
Discovering good music and sharing it with someone else.
Cold water after hiking.
Going to the city after awhile in the country.
Going to the country after awhile in the city.
Being the DJ.
Getting excited and happy about little, stupid things.
Kerry laughing.
Boat rides.
Humor.
Traveling and seeing something new.
Books that make me laugh and think simultaneously.
Playing basketball.
Creating something unique.
Hearing from someone unexpected.
Crudely drawn robots.
The Adirondacks.
The Avett Brothers' song "Die, Die, Die."
Snow.
Chubby babies.
The eerie, yet awkwardly reassuring silence of the forest.
Water fights.
Seeing someone succeed who really deserves it.
Waking up in the parking lot of a music festival.
My big red VW van.
Collaboration with friends.
Grungy and gritty music venues.
Sunday afternoon football.
Reading by candlelight and pretending that makes you cooler than you actually are.
Doing something other people can enjoy.

Some Old Stuff

2007-11-17T07:31:00.000-08:00

After a few weeks of not writing much of anything, I'm starting to feel a bit stale. So I unearthed a bit of old writing just to see if it might give me a little jolt of creative energy that I've been sorely missing for awhile.

Here are a few totally random "gems" that I dug up.

Most of these are little sections of poetry and/or song lyrics. And one short story. Most of them are things that I banged out in tiny fits of creativity in between job responsibilities while working at the University of Washington over the past couple of years. Enjoy.

(one finished poem to start with)
Closet Light

Dammit.
I’m sorry –
this light
is
so
bright.

Couldn’t see
if the socks I was picking
out matched.

It’s so hard
to make these kinds of
important decisions
in the dark.

I
Certainly didn’t mean to wake
you.

-----------------------------

(random beginning to a song and/or poem that I need to finish)

My lineage is poverty
My pedigree is sin
A present-day Jean Valjean
A modernized Huck Finn

My origins unholy
My heredity subpar
Throw a noose around me, magistrate,
before I go too far.

------------------------------

(another random beginning w/ no ending)
Ghosts of a Flyover Town

Sometimes I wonder why anyone would settle here
Or why anyone would stay.
Amongst the farmers and demons - woodsmen and venom,
And the picture book clichés.

Can’t help but notice that all my friends are missing.
I guess most of them I miss.
They return for holidays and funerals - reunions and burials,
Beyond that these towns just don’t exist.

Goddamn the randomness of chance
Dropped me in a hometown that only seems to exist in the past tense
Leaves me defending myself with that oft-repeated song and dance
That someday I’ll get out, someday I’ll get out.

------------------------------

Pedestal

It must be lonely up there
with the gargoyles and angels
And crosses and martyrs
and self-proclaimed heroes
The pedestal you stood on
cracked each time you’d flown
And the weight of your yoke
pulled you back down
The view of your struggle
is better from here.
We can all see that
your wings are on fire.

---------------------------

(and a very short story to end this entry)

Gram and Dan

The rain continued to pelt down. Sounded to Dan like thousands of BBs being dropped onto the tin roof of the one room cabin.

“S’getting cold. Rain’s startin’ to turn,” Gram said. Dan didn't even turn his head at the gravelly sound of her smoker's voice.

For weeks, Dan hadn’t even been able to see the bald eagles gliding and diving around the cannery a quarter mile from the cabin’s window. The fog and mist had seen to that. He leaned languidly on the arm of the tattered couch staring out the window into milk froth nothingness.

In small evergreen-shrouded North Pacific coastal town like this, sometimes there’s little to do but watch the birds. And when you can't see the birds, even the fir trees seem to droop at more pronounced angles than normal. Everything wilts under the weight of the weather.

Smoke from the chimney curled upward and meshed with the steel grey sky.

“Wish it would. Snow’s better. You can play in snow. Damn rain ain’t worth nothin’ unless you’re growin’ something. And that season’s over. Wish it would stop.” said Dan.

“You mind your tongue, mister,” Gram scolded. “You don’t want me get that switch down from the mantel, do ya?”

Dan turned away, his face blushing. He knew better than that.

“No, mam. I’m sorry – I know that I should watch my language.”

“Damn right, you should,” said Gram, matter-of-factly. “Young kids got no damn manners today. Your parents raised you proper. I really don’t understand where you learned to curse like that.”

Dan knew, but he’d never tell her.

The "Holy Shit" Moment

2007-10-31T15:35:00.000-07:00

It doesn't happen as much as it should, but occasionally I go somewhere or do something that forces me to pause and actively think to myself, "you know - this is pretty damn awesome."

For my money, those are the best moments that you can have in life. That instant when you realize that you're witnessing something amazing or doing something incredible. You see yourself in context - as if you're watching your own life as an outside observer. Something that forces you to recognize your place in the universe and makes you realize your own insignificance, which, in turn, forces you to also acknowledge your own significance, as well. You know that your life and your perceptions will be forever altered by what you experience in that incredible split second. This is the "holy shit" moment.

For me, those little flashes of inspiration - or realization - are usually reserved for experiences directly involved with nature. Driving through the redwoods of northern California. Witnessing a moose and calf swimming directly toward you in a pond in Baxter State Park in Maine. Climbing onto a receding glacier at 7,000 feet on the slopes of Mount Rainier. Watching mud pots bubble and pop at Yellowstone. Watching a flock of bald eagles swoop and soar around a cannery on the northern Canadian Pacific coast. It goes without saying that nature is filled with thousands upon thousands of these instants of immediate realization. Those "holy shit" moments are continuous and unending in nature.

For me, however, it is less and less often that I experience this feeling when the situation involves human beings. For the past several years, I have had the tendency to be cynical about people and usually find myself more annoyed than energized by my fellow man. Now listen - before you judge me, know this - I agree that this is a problem. I completely recognize that this is my own fault and realize that it not a perspective that I should be proud to hold. And, truth be told, that's probably not really my overriding feeling - just an irritating phase that I'm going through. Inherently, I know that people are amazing creatures and do things that should illicit the "holy shit" moment all of the time...but for whatever the reason, I just haven't felt it lately.

I think that I've had probably about 5 of these people-related moments in the past 3+ years (I told you that I've been a cynical prick lately...there are probably more if I really think about it, but these 5 are really the ones that stand out more than anything else...). I could elaborate greatly on all of them, but this blog is focusing on the last one, so I'm going to run through the first 4 pretty quickly. Here they are:

1) Number one would absolutely be my wedding - or more accurately, one specific moment during the wedding. September 11, 2004.

Standing on that altar waiting for my future wife to be led down the aisle by her father was the A-1, Blue-Ribbon, Gold-Star, Prime-cut, Award-winning "holy shit" moment in my life so far. The ceremony itself was life-altering, but there was one split second while I was standing there, alone and nervous on the altar, when I saw Kerry for the first time in her wedding gown. I really had no preconceived notions of how I'd feel. But at that second, I realized - "I am about to get married to this woman and that makes me very happy." It was one of those stomach-tightening, tear-inducing, breathtaking moments that changed my perception of reality forever.

2) The birth of my brother's daughter. June 1, 2004.

I saw her when she was a couple of weeks old. Very surreal - and even though we were 26 and 24, respectively - to me, the second that I held her truly marked the end of my (and my brother's) childhood. It forced me to look at him in a completely different light - as a parent, as a caregiver, and as a man.

(...Three of these moments deal directly with music - which has always been important to me, but hadn't been the focus of my life until somewhat recently. In the past few years, music has taken on the mantel of being the most important pastime/hobby in my life. This is probably the case because it was something to fill the gaping void that I felt while living in Seattle. And also probably because Seattle is a kickass town for music...)

3) Josh Ritter's The Animal Years and his performance at The Triple Door in Seattle on 6/4/2006.

Ritter's 2006 album and his tour in support of it forced me to rethink what I liked about music. This show partially rekindled my love of music and writing. I was completely amazed by his ability to manipulate the English language and develop lyrics that are both socially poignant and fit the melody.

4) The Hold Steady at the Crocodile Cafe in Seattle on October 21, 2006. If Josh Ritter had only partially rekindled my love of music and especially live music - then this show dumped about a half gallon of lighter fluid on that sumbitch. Just incredible - and made me start to seriously delve into what other good music is out there. As it turns out, there's quite a lot. And that's a good thing.

And the last (and most recent) one:

5) Levon Helm plays at Gill's Farmstand in Hurley, NY on 10/28/2007.

It's not often that you get to see a Rock and Roll Hall of Famer play anywhere. There aren't that many of them. And they don't play all that often. And when they do, tickets to their shows usually cost an exorbitant amount of money and even if you can afford them, they generally sell out pretty damn fast.

Well, on this specific Sunday, this was not the case. On this particular Sunday, the drummer and lead singer of The Band played a free show to an utterly enraptured crowd of approximately 250 people on a 15 x 15 tent-covered stage next to a produce stand just off a remote highway in the approximate middle of nowhere in upstate New York.

The setting was about as unassuming as you could possibly imagine. Just regular folks milling around drinking hot cider, eating $75 corn on the cob, picking out pumpkins to be carved into jack-o-lanterns for Halloween a few days later. People of literally all ages (babies to seniors) scattered around a small patch of grass waiting to see a legendary musician take the stage. Somehow, it completely fit into my preconceived notion of what The Band - and by default, Levon Helm - represent. You always got the sense that they were just regular guys living regular lives - aside from the fact that they were ridiculously impressive musicians and songwriters.

The stage was set up between the farm stand's greenhouse and a self-constructed "pumpkin cannon" that was about 40 feet long. This cannon would intermittently fire gourds and pumpkins into the fields and trees (and whatever else happens to be over there) about 3/4 of a mile away. In most instances, the fact that I was watching pumpkins get shot nearly a mile out of a cannon would be the highlight of the event. But not when Rock royalty is playing the drums about 15 feet from you.

It should be noted that Levon has not had the best time of it in recent years. His studio in Woodstock, NY burned down some years ago. He was diagnosed with throat cancer in the late 1990's - about the worst medical ailment possible for someone who makes their living with their voice. After successful surgery and many radiation treatments, the cancer was gone - but unfortunately, so was his voice. That once golden - yet fractured - tenor made famous on dozens of The Band releases was now replaced with a quiet, rasping speaking voice. He couldn't sing at all for years.

In 2004, he sang again publicly for the first time at one of the Midnight Ramble sessions that he hosts at his home/studio in Woodstock. The release of his first solo album in 25 years - Dirt Farmer - on October 30 of this year marks a comeback on multiple levels. Personal and musical, vocal and familial.

Although Levon didn't sing during his free show (he had sung late into the night the night before at another Midnight Ramble and it was pretty obvious that he was battling a pretty nasty cold), his voice was replaced by several people - Little Sammy Davis, Larry Campbell, and most impressively by his own daugther, Amy Helm, who is quite impressive in her own right. As was expected, Levon's drumming was impeccable, the band was tight, and the unfaltering smile on his face seemed to say it all - he's back and he's truly loving what he's doing.

I stood there on stage right with my wife and my friend Dan watching this show for approximately an hour and a half. After several blues numbers, a couple of instrumentals, and scattering of roots music, the Levon Helm Band closed the set with one of the better knowna songs of his former and more famous group. As the horns, guitar, harmonic vocals, and drums of "Chest Fever" by The Band rang out across the surrounding hayfields, I looked out over this crowd of strangers united through music. I looked up at the pumpkin cannon lurching menacingly over the crowd. I noticed the kids in the small parking lot tossing a football around. I looked down at my wife. I looked over at Dan - who seemed to be noticing just how amazing this situation was, as well. I felt the breeze on my face and the chill in the air. I watched a living legend bang away on the drums with a huge smile on his face while his family and friends surrounded him.

And I only had once internal response.

You guessed it. "Holy shit."

Holy shit, indeed.

As a Word of Introduction

2007-10-27T17:51:00.001-07:00

So yeah. To the left...that's me. BD.

Before I start inundating the untold masses with blog after blog of unparalleled creative writing, cultural critiques, music reviews, poetry, song lyrics, and other general awesomeness, I figured that I should probably introduce myself.

So...what do you need to know about me?

I once killed an attacking bear with my bare hands. I suppose that you could now call them my "bear hands."

During my frightening reign as a malevolent and unquestioned dictator in a smallish European country, I accidentally coined the modern phrase "surf's up," even though my version involved poor indentured-servant farmhands and an enormous catapult.

So there you have it. A full explanation of the majesty that is "me." Hope that clears things up a little bit.