Day 350

i feel there needs to be mention of this morning's church and second consecutive afternoon feast cookout. this time a new group of friends gathered at the gohricks and ken somehow managed to produce another batch of gourmet speciality, oven stone pizzas. the sun was out and the low lawn held cut lines and a green smell and there were hammocks and talking and chilling. dozens of fishing boats bobbed in the backyard lake in celebration of opening season.

over lunch i met a musician who'd impressed me this morning at church and he told me about his professional career in various symphonies and bands around the states. his shiny, round forehead and long white beard and laugh were as jolly as santa. i guess mostly just his personality would have been jolly, but he told me stories about music and traveling and then said that when he reached the age of thirty or so he started to get tired of the moving around and constant uprooting of the adventurous life. he told me to enjoy it while i can. and i am.

i'm especially excited right now because i'm sitting in portland, oregon, at a coffee shop often cited by writer don miller as one of his favorite places to write his books. and i can see why. the place is big but not wide and single sections of tables and chairs border the windows. there are dozens of college students hunched with computers in the dim, yellow light and i'm really just happy to be here. i don't even think i'll be able to read my book here tonight. can't concentrate.

parker's house is only a five minute walk from this place but i think i got here in four. a full moon is cloaked in mist above downtown and patches of sky and moonlight hang a heavy blue between the branches of trees on these neighborhood sidewalks and streets. the air is warm and smells like flowers; i think tulips are popular here. several flashing cyclers whizz past on the asphalt and through shadows and past parked cars.

parker is experiencing his own community and renting experience, maybe somewhat like my fernie, and he's invited me to stay for a bit. the guys he lives with all seem cool so far and most of us had hung out over the weekend while riding bikes and going to the concert in seattle.


it's ten p.m. and palio doesn't close for another hour. i'm so stoked to be here right now. just over a year ago i'd bought a discounted road atlas from a borders bookstore in illinois and had reviewed and explored what highways would bring me from rockford to portland. i'd spent weeks looking for rooms for rent in the shared houses section on craigslist. i'd even talked to the manager at my sporting goods store and he said that a transfer to the new portland store could definitely happen. that was back in march 2008 and still it somehow didn't make sense then.

and i'm not saying that just because i'm here right now that an omnipotent understanding has suddenly arrived. to be honest, i've stopped looking back on the past 350 days as a lump sum and have grown to value each step and day and relationship and risk and success and failure and opportunity.

so tonight from edge of 16th and next to the massive roundabout circle outside the window i want to tell you that i'm stoked to be here for the next month. my new musician friend up north had asked me what i would do if i could do anything for the rest of my life. i told him i'd play music and write non-fiction books and do photography in whatever ministry or cause would be appropriate.

so here i am in portland for the next few weeks. then there's a reunion with some fernie and montana friends at the sasquatch music festival in eastern washington. and then to illinois.

and by then who knows what will have happened.

Day 348

everyone's coming back to the apartment and i've got a couple seconds to dump a couple things out before concentration slides away. i'll come back before tomorrow's post to edit and put some links in for the organizations and musicians mentioned below.

we rode road bikes today all around seattle. everywhere. our adventure started near the seattle pacific university campus where we met indie musician noah gundersen for lunch. he had a show tonight on campus with david bazan (pedro the lion, headphones, etc) that we'd all be back for.

as is usual, i later split off from the group and locked my borrowed bike in front of a borders. finally an american bookstore. i would like nothing more than to one day have a chill place where i can have my own library of books and music and instruments. anyways, while wandering the sunny streets of the pike place market i ran into a new friend, chris, who i'd met a few hours earlier and who was a friend of parkers. he works for the charity children international and we got to know each other a bit on the street corner of pine and first. chris looks just like one of my baseball teammates from rock valley college except he has piercings of bone particles in his ear. i asked him why he does what he does and why he walks downtown and asks people to sponsor children for twenty dollars a month. he'd already tried to get me and i changed subjects.

his reasons were non spiritual and elementally human: contentment and the feeling of helping. the explanation was cut short by a homeless girl. "man, she would be so beautiful if she could kick her habit and get a shower. i can just see her walking the streets in a sundress and maybe a little bit of make up and enjoying her day instead of sitting and begging on the corner to aid her fix." chris and i walked across the street and he bought her a piece of pizza. after handing it over and him saying that he knows and wants to identify with these 'bum' friends, we saw the girl tearing her pizza in half to share with another bum across the street. a beautiful moment. i saw another homeless man drinking the last sips from a drink he scooped from the garbage. ten feet away from him were the shopping middle class husbands and wives and families. on the other side of this were luxury cars and shiny rims roaring over the downtown cobblestone. and nobody seemed to notice either of the others within their thirty foot radius. all these things connected in my mind and i agreed to sponsor a child and picked a boy in mexico because i'd been there a couple times before.

there was an awesome three piece bluegrass band outside the original starbucks and i leaned against a light pole for fifteen minutes. i was glad i had no backpack and didn't feel like a tourist during my wandering laps through the crowds of families and foreigners and shoppers. pike place market.

i rode along with traffic to meet back up with the other guys and we headed back to campus for the show. we chilled with noah backstage and the group of us took a walk around campus. we didn't even have to worry about seats cause we were all given reserved 4th row seats with him. awesome. before noah went up he asked four of us if we wanted to come on stage for part of the singalong for the last song. yes, that would be sweet.

the room was two hundred plus packed and when we got our cue we ran onto the stage to sing the melody. it was great. then the lights dimmed and david bazan clawed his acoustic guitar and thanked us for coming to see an 'old guy singing old songs.' his tone was milk and honey and the whole room was motionless for every tune. in between songs he'd interact and would answer any questions. at the end he told everyone to ''be sweet to each other if they really believe what the Bible says.''

dick's is a fast food, outdoor burger joint that hasn't changed prices in fifty-five years of business. that's incredible on so many levels and the high school kids in orange uniforms that work on the other side of the glass move so quick that it's almost unsettling to think that they're doing it for me. but the food is good and incredibly cheap and is also tonight's last reason to love seattle.

that's a quick summary. bikes, seattle, coffee, books, musicians, friends, homeless, charities, good people, food, and a somehow privileged life and journey. i'm so happy and so thankful to be alive.

Day 304

there's a second half to the poem at the top of this page. the latter section is a little different but maybe it just has two parts, i don't know. it's just the way it came out.

"to be free"

inspired by c.j.m.


bring to the shore the power of the ocean to forgive this mind of a selfish life

stand beneath the shadow of a mountain to be made small apart from my spiraling stride

bind these eyes with the eternal darkness that only stars of midnight give

shine through the wild with the deepest silence that man himself barely lets live


show me the beauty thats been twisted up in a lie

let unravel her mystery, breathing warmth from the sky

lift up my vision higher than your blind ever sees

give me the life, to be free, that few longer believe.



today was spent with some friends as we made burritos and chilled at the coffee shop and then in the sun on the mountain-facing front porch of our house. gazing at the blue mountains in the golden afternoon reminded me of that second line. that's why i'm posting the entire thing tonight.

Day 293

the mountains were dark and cold as we pulled onto the highway. the convenience store must have been open only a short while and we left it clutching hot cups of coffee at a few minutes after six in the morning. the accordion and a few guitars are in the trunk of the van. montana here we come.

there's something about johnny cash. he doesn't sound 'too country' or, more so, we couldn't decide on the exact overall quality of his voice and sound that made him timeless. we gave up trying to figure out what makes a legend and let cash rattle on about the places he's been which, evidently, turns out to be everywhere, and soon the sky started blueing over top of dormant peaks. montana recording studio here we come.


is this the right place? are we at the wrong place? this is a house. what? downstairs and around back? okay.

luke came to the door at the side of the basement. thin. dark hair. glasses. earrings. late twenties, we later guessed. he led us inside to another door outside of a drywall and stud wall.

whoa.

the landscape changed. two toned hardwood floors. maroon walls. black foamy ceiling. guitars, basses, mandolins, posters, amps, lights, and microphones hung from and stood along the wall. a hammond organ. in the corner next to the drum alcove was a dark wooden desk with crates and crates of analogue recording gear. decks. the board. sprouts and sprouts of colored cables. this place is for real.

i think it was eight thirty a.m. we continued the relationship first conceived via craigslist and began to plug in and tune. the rhythm track of drums, bass, keyboard, and some guitar were finished. soon, jeremy made it clear he intended to redo every guitar part and overdub vocals. we'll be here a while. and we were.

an analogue system is much like 35mm film photography and is becoming a lost art to the digital age of pro tools and computer settings. luke told me that once he gets some more money he'll eventually buy a mac and protools and switch. he told me this is a drawn out, kind of trailing tone. he wasn't too ready for the switch. he's used to old school analogue.

the goal for the day as outlined by him was three songs. ep. it could be done, i thought, as long as we don't spend eternity on details. we could end up here forever.

i walked down to burger king after the initial tracks were laid to pick us up some burgers. on the walk back i knew i was a sitting duck when he saw me walking with a sack of food. the homeless man's name was joe. so is mine, i told him. he was surprised and thankful for a junior whopper. he said to say thanks to the rest of the band as well.

a few hours later we looked outside and the sun was almost gone. was it a few hours? what time is it?
a
we left with the substantial, albeit easiest, amount of work finished for this day one. what a better way to celebrate but head to the mongolian bbq. twelve dollars gave an all you can eat meat and noodle and vegetable and spice stir fry buffet. a couple hours later there were a few of the waitresses around our table trying to help us pick a new band name. they didn't help too much, however.

melody, one of our montana friends, had arranged place for us to stay that night. our drummer dion had gone back to fernie for work so ian, jeremy, and i went up the mountain apartment and flipped coin to see who got the fold out couch bed or the bed upstairs. even though i ended up winning, we all found that ian talks in his sleep. heavy australian accent. "aye, aye, thanks mate. thanks buddy. aye aye."

Day 220

the dark creeps earlier and earlier on the valley. the ski hill closes by four in the afternoon and, not more than an hour later, thick night slides down the shadowy side of the mountain and across the cold highway with the ever-present arctic exhale. six o'clock feels like midnight. it has also always inversely been the case that midnight feels like six o'clock to me but that's a different story.

friends from all over town frequent our place by this time to watch a movie or play cards or hang out. its good. but tonight i still had a stack of books in my backpack. and there's a secret place i have. maybe not so secret after the next couple paragraphs, but i'm willing to sacrifice this for a raconteur, recreated now from a few, blue ink jots on the back of a scrap of paper.


the organic market and coffee shop is across the small street behind the convenience store of whose internet i am borrowing at the moment. this is only my second time going to this place and i wonder why i usually walk at least ten minutes to go downtown to the tea house or mug shots. the other places know me, i guess.

i don't put a coat on and throw my black backpack across my red flannel shirt and walk across the icy street.

the organic market and coffee home is titled as such because, besides fair trade coffee, they sell organic produce. although i am the only customer currently sitting in the small and homey floor space, there are several people who wander in and out to ask about buying fresh eggs or other certified-organic goods. one dark haired lady walks in and asks for scott. an oval headed, short haired man with an orange t-shirt and white apron comes to the register. the counter seems to be located in the middle of what used to be a front room back when the market used to be just a house. he answers matter-of-factly that since she hadn't ordered this morning, she missed participation on the current bread shipment. i take a sip from my small coffee and they begin to chat merrily.

there are two girls working behind the counter as well. the blonde has bright eyes and an accent that's probably australian. the other one, a brunette, reminds me of an actress because her figure and loud, enunciated speech. there's a red bandana in her hair and i caught her looking at me once when i'd happened to glance left at the counter.

i'm more than halfway through the book travels since beginning it yesterday. the conversation of the three behind the counter interjects reading. i hear the words 'american' and lower my eyes from the pages to listen. 'they're all so bloody opinionated,' the blonde says. the three of them banter about how hot coffee spills draw american lawsuits and the brunette adds that they're always ready to sue the pants off anyone for anything. i don't look over this time, i'm kind of nervous for some reason and pull an old envelope from my backpack and start making notes next to my book with a blue pen.

the blonde girl drawls that they're friendly in their own country, but they also seem to always be looking for a way to make a quick buck. i sigh a little and stare back at the motionless pages of the book. i'm forced to agree and almost catch myself nodding when the actress said that the mountains suddenly disappear after crossing the montana border. i know that route well now. the blonde girl says she wants to go to colorado. so do i. i write 'denver' down on the list on the back of the envelope scrap.

they're conversation wanders and i look around the place, noticing a vintage farmhouse image. muddled narrow floorboards and an exposed border of drywall and building structure add to the atmosphere already contributed by the old, metal coffee maker on a shelf and the artificial milkweed stems propped in a ceramic pot behind my chair. i continue reading about climbing mount kilimanjaro. now i want to climb mount kilimanjaro.

the text adventure is interrupted by a voice, soft and accented, asking if i was hungry. the blonde girl is standing next to the table. apparently they have one serving of cream of mushroom soup left and would rather not freeze the small amount. i accept in short speech, not really concerned about the americanisms earlier but still not interested in being asked where i was from. sometimes people can call it on 'the accent', whatever that means. most can't.

she offers water and routinely comes around to refill the mason jar glass. they gave me a free refill on coffee after i'd asked earlier and her and scott couldn't remember if it was still thirty-five cents or was made a dollar yet. everything in fernie is getting a little more expensive now that the hill is open. still, i decide that i like this place.

after spending a couple hours in the seat at the front window, i leave some dollar coins on the table and return the cups. the walk home takes about thirty seconds but the mental transition takes a little more effort.

still, this life is good. and expanding. tomorrow will be my first night playing piano at the resort in the big, fireplace and window room. this has been day two hundred twenty.

Day 214

hey. i gotta run. busyness has pounced and i'm running to do a gig at tea house, then have band practice, and then work hooked employees up with a free night in the resort on the hill. we've got training there early in the morning. this is day 214. details later.

post edit:

ray lamontagne is echoing in green peaked ceilings of a two bedroom suit. a snow machine is purring right outside. the thermostat produces a few quick ticks and then three flames appear around a fake stack of wood in the fireplace. i'm here, sipping complementary coffee in this resort room on the ski hill. all for free. here's what happened after i cut it short earlier.

i walked to the tea house to play for thursday night. the icy draft pushed colder and faster down the mountains and over the highway and between buildings and against my bearded chin. the full moon illuminated white peaks in all directions. i feet like the last piece of cereal in a bowl.

the tea house, and all of downtown for that matter, was dead and quiet. even by six this weeknight, the early dark and intense freeze has put people away in their apartments converted from former, main street hotel rooms or into their shared houses or has called them to the smog of loud laugher and classic rock in one of the pubs. it didn't look like anyone would come in tonight so instead of pulling out the keyboard, the owners offered me some coffee. i accepted. both the bob dylan and writing book were in my backpack.

i sat in my usual seat- the furthest, tall table that faces the door- but lowered the book and broke the collective silence, happening to create a conversation with the owners leaving me wishing i had a tiny tape recorder. or a notepad. i framed an imaginary viewfinder to balance her excited face with the coffee and tea in the background as if the conversation was being recorded.

three years ago, after leaving a successful career in book binding and forsaking the idea of opening a bed and breakfast, randy and his wife moved to fernie and opened the tea house as a specific specialty shop. struggles to find a building downtown and contractors for a complete interior renovation were overcome with sincere faith. her excitement could have convinced me that they'd just opened last week.

she asked my story as well. the summary of opportunities, faith, and obstacles excited both of us. i still remember that quick and sudden process of committing to work at camp in late april and telling my family as i left in mid may that i had a feeling that might not be back right away. i still remember that feeling. i still have it. randy's wife said i should write a book. i told her i really want to someday.

we talked about the sketchy theory of global warming and how a recent news headline told how obama was suddenly turning the market around. the tv is flickering across this resort room at the moment and i happened to just notice a cheesy commercial for some newly issued abraham lincoln/obama dollar coin. he isn't even sworn in yet. i wonder how many other presidents have been turned coin before chief. i wonder what it all means.

i was still genuinely interested in their story and asked about book binding. their machine would produce ten thousand books in one hour.

a van pulled in front of the window and headlights flashed. our band had one last practice before our first show this saturday night. we're feeling good about it. friends from montana are coming up for the weekend and we still have two visiting camp friends here too. i walked out the door with intentions to return tomorrow to hear the rest about binding books and running a coffee shop.

now tonight, the crew of newly hired resort housekeepers were given free rooms at the various resorts after our first day of training. we start again at eight thirty to learn how to clean these rooms.

this is a strange and random combination. poor. foreign. rock star. janitor. resort.

i took a walk around the place as is now tradition for larger-than-life mountain resorts. the chair lift is right outside. there's a dark and empty restaurant and coffee house and gear rental place on the main level. spas are next to the elevator on each floor. the parking garage is warm, clean, and empty. all this is within the incredible amount of stacked logs of this giant cabin. i got up here after ten so i don't know if there are many other employees in surrounding rooms but the season still hasn't started so i know that the whole property is almost entirely vacant.

Day 212

i was cleaning at church today when the pastor and i started talking about design and upcoming events. i was really encouraged when he said he was amazed that i've achieved 'an integral role in the community in only two months'. really encouraged. this is the right place for me right now.

take a look at a video if you're interested. it's the rough draft from the sfc retreat in banff a few weeks ago.

i spent the rest of the afternoon at mug shots reading. i only have a couple free days left before another job starts. my friend jerri who works there would come around to chat in her heavy english accent and to kindly refill coffee.

also, two friends from camp came today to visit for a week. they're staying in the spare room we have that will soon be rented to a swedish friend, jon, at the end of the month. right now everyone's over watching batman and life is good.

thanks again for the letters, books, and birthday cards. they continue to filter through the mail and arrive in timely fashion. very much appreciated.

Day 211

i went to the tea house to read and chill. the old brick building is on a street corner downtown and looks heavy and content- like a distant relative on the couch after christmas dinner; familiar but fresh. i don't know if that's legal punctuation but those ideas needed to stick together.

from inside of the big windows, i admire the front bay and fireplace. no gig today. christmas music fills the atmosphere and i wonder to myself if people really like these classics as much as they seem to say they do. to be honest, i've noticed seasonal songs see a decrease for myself in overall pleasantry each year and bring less fulfillment of a 'christmas spirit', whatever that means, once the tunes have been played for more than two weeks. i remember the tiny, singing shoney bear tree ornament. i did like that music from his plush stomach.

i feel fortunate to know and have a good relationship with the owners of the tea house. today they bring coffee to where i've got bob dylan's chronicles on the table. an internal monologue starts to flow and i scorn the awareness of crafted words that i always fear will never be recovered. 'i pour cream and watch it chase its silky tails into the murk, tripping and rolling over its creamy momentum until all wisps have mysteriously pulled any straggling color beneath the dark surface. then, with a flick of the spoon, the heavy white expands up and i, like an eye in the cosmos, watch the smokey explosion of the liquid mushroom cloud in my cup.'

at the age of twenty-one, i'm sure some friends from high school have company cell phones or starched, tie-requiring internships. others probably work at grocery stores. most are writing papers and studying and taking big tests to sum up their last few months. a semester has vicariously flown by. i'm sitting in canada and describing what it looks like to prepare coffee and reading books about the music that's inspired me to play in this very building and also making a different attempt at faith while wondering what 'moving mountains' really means. maybe that's a little imbalanced, but maybe it isn't. maybe craig kelley was right in that documentary last week when he talked about breaking into the life you're alive in instead of viewing it as an escape from the one you didn't. maybe this is my internship- except with no human boss and a beard instead of a tie. and this blog.

i'm seeing that it's kind of hard to be an individual in the picture of our crew's relationship to the rest of this small town. we have a cool group of foreigners/non-locals in a good location. this isn't a bad thing at all but there's definitely less individuality in overall greater community consideration. that's probably a good thing.

still, that isn't easy for me. it's becoming more natural to be comfortable and attentive in this bigger picture but i know myself and have to take time to wander on my own. sometimes for a season. sometimes for an afternoon. sometimes for a few moments to stir words into coffee and sometimes by trying to remember these thoughts with scribbles in the back leaves of a national bestseller.

Day 205

today. snow. finally.

the first significant snowfall of the season started this morning. this continued until most everything was covered in a moderate cover of white although the main streets have since regained their normal colors. people are concerned with the slow coming of the season but continue to assure that good times are ahead.

icy side streets played tricks with a shivering, stiff gait as i walked from janitoring at church to chill at mug shots this afternoon. the white and black striped beanie pressed curled and stiff locks of hair against my upper eyelids like a climber's grip on a cold, rock face. a quick, lazy gesture might pin back the wild tales for a moment but never accomplished enough to hold them before the next icy blast came sweeping down the whitened mountains and over the sidewalks and buildings, pinching and whispering numbness in my eyes.

the coffee shop and friends inside are the regular place to spend the few remaining unemployed days with this new collection of books.

also, while jamming together around the house, i admit that this accordion is one of the greatest investments i've made.

it's really cool too that people often stop by and come in the house throughout the day. we had some good chills today and might be taking on an extra roommate.


i heard once that if you do something for about twenty days straight, it will be come a habit. hmm. times ten. this blog deal seems all kinda crazy to me sometimes.

Day 192

i think i'm back on track here after the past couple days of distractions and failing to channel a few dozen of ideas and thoughts i thought i wanted to use. they're mostly gone now and, as usually happens, i haven't moved fast enough to chase those ideas escaping like a zipping currency wandering down a windy city street. remember though, i did find a ten dollar bill on the ground the third day of being here. that was cool..

anyways, i got an awesome package today from a friend in vermont. filled mostly with organic, hippy food made in the state, the box has come at a great time and, after picking the mysterious box up from the post office, i walked down the block to mug shots. inside the coffee shop, a friend paused her work behind the counter to join the unwrapping and sorting through the collection of fair trade coffee, snacks, granola, and a coffee thermos. thanks very much.

i reached an important point today. faith has been huge so far and has been a strong and growing element through what's been developing, but i'm starting to feel like i could give back more to these people who are helping us all get started. everyone is kind and is doing or giving a little bit of furniture or food or cash and our group as a whole has been well-adjusted as a part of the bigger community here. still, as i munched on a free, oldish cinnamon roll in the coffee shop this afternoon, i've decided to start reminding myself to look harder for ways i can give back to the people who've helped get us settled.

i also justified spending coin on coffee. again. if you use the same terms of analogy that smokers too must have to budget to feed their addiction, and i'm no smoker, then spending much less on something as harmless as coffee doesn't seem like too heavy a loss in either effect or price. that's what i'll keep telling myself until i start a full time job.

Day 185

you know those moments, mostly conversations, where you wish you had a pen that was a recorder or a tiny video camera to tape a story on the spot of its conceiving moments? its the kind of stuff that would make an awesome, 5 minute mini-documentary.

i have those all the time and it happened again today.

i am in 'downtown' of an already small town after walking a few blocks from home in the light drizzle of a grey mountain afternoon. the air is still humid for mid november and i savor these days before the sudden and lasting drop hits us all.

the tea house is a small coffee shop owned and operated by two people from church and who's son plays drums with us on sunday morning. they cheerfully remembered me from sunday and the piano and harmonica. there's no wifi here, but that's okay. i have text edit. and i can finally concentrate on some design and reading. i bought a book of tennessee williams' collected stories at a used bookstore in some beach town in california a few summers back. the book has accompanied almost every trip since then.

the owner told me about not having wifi and continued to talk a bit about society and failures to communicate in the context of internet availability in most every coffee house. i agreed completely and, seeing as i had no internet hah, we kept chatting at the counter.

i like the layout here. there are muted earth tones on the wall and paintings of local artists for sale on the walls. there's a particularly attractive corner, out of the way, in the front of the shop. the street and sidewalk is on the other side of three, long windows and a fireplace is tucked away from both the front door and counter.

i asked if he has live music. we talked some more and have ended up scoring friday night gigs here starting the last friday of november when they start staying open later to enhance the attractiveness and personality of downtown. he wants to help support christian artists instead of anyone just looking for a buck and said that he was already a big fan of our music. between the keyboard that greg offered last week and the band mates i've already made, i'm really excited about this opportunity that's been given me.

rainy afternoons can be exciting after all. i've swallowed the last cold drops of coffee and might design a poster for them to advertise their shop and the new live music on friday nights.


p.s. we were invited to lead worship for the snowboarder's for Christ group's annual leaders retreat in banff. awesome. looks like i'll get to check that place out after all, dad.

Day 180

i felt my first cold, dark mountain morning and was out the door and picked up before 7 a.m. i was on the road to cranbrook, the closest, biggest town to fernie and the location of the nearest and last government building i needed to visit to become officially legal in canada.

i had a one way ride from someone from church. a kleenex covered the dashboard clock and was only occasionally checked by the chatting driver to decide whether the lightless speedometer needed another push. there were elk in frosty fields and a darting deer that we almost, almost, almost hit. i was dropped off in town by 8 a.m. and had a half hour to kill before the government building opened, so i followed the trail of people walking with steaming coffee's and up the sidewalk into the morning's first open business.

after some coffee and creative thinking and note making for the church video project, i was in and out of the government building. the s.i.n. number was achieved and i got a ride back with 'one of the best bowlers in kimberly.' alex was cool and had some awesome stories.

i didn't have much planned for the afternoon, so i went to the 'edge of the world' snowboard shop. the owner, i've mentioned him before, remembered me. out of the complete blue, he offered the use of his portable keyboard for our band and for any other performance i'd want to use it for. i didn't even know he had one since he's got a punk band. seriously, just a few days ago, jeremy had mentioned that we'd just need to pray for a keyboard for me and then a guitar for ian, the other guy in our trio, to be able to play gigs and 'tour'. today, it was provided.

greg's legendary history with snowboarding, his stores, and music is more than captivating. his eloquence, stories, and less-than sixty year old zeal would make a great documentary. i mentioned that to him and, in the storage/jam room, he shared that he has been keeping written compilation of history, memories, and stories already.

just the kind of thing you would start making a documentary with.. maybe after the church video project... i'd be stoked.

by the way, while hanging out tonight we started talking about thailand. i was curious and apparently my friend's friends have done three week trips where they've survived modestly on two hundred american dollars. hm.

Day 154

i had no cash today, so i went to the safeway where i was told i could get cash back with a debit card purchase. the store was busy and the lines were full with saturday evening grocery getters. i joined them in the checkout lines feeling foolish that i had nothing in my hands. the people around me started to notice, i think. my plan was to buy a pack of gum- seeing that if i had used a different bank's atm at this point, they would charge me an equivalent fee, so why not get gum out of the situation. however, the gum was still at the front of the line. way up there.. the lady in front of me turned around, looking me up and down and, seeing me grocery-less, kindly questioned if i wanted to budge her in line. appreciating the awkwardness of this whole moment, i thanked her and slide past her cart towards the front.

i needed the cash back for a show tonight in centralia. noah gundersen. he's a local musician whom i've come to discover and admire and he was playing at a coffee shop/venue built in an old warehouse. the environment was sweet and the cover was a cheap five bones, so parker, two other friends, and i went. the last weekend before the big move.

tomorrow is my last full day in washington. i'm heading up to vancouver for a few days on monday and then making the big trek to fernie a couple days later. arrangements and correspondences have been going well regarding work, but the last two weeks of october will determine, for certain, the final destiny of the winter in fernie.

Day 124

he had a drawing of an ear tattooed on the inside of the forearm. this was at easy street records in downtown seattle where a plaid shirted worker was making recommendations to us in the local artists section. vinyls, both vintage and new releases, filled isles and isles of neat plywood shelves, which isn't as contradictory a description as may seem, along with thousands of cds and sections of music memorabilia. i had a beatles mug in my hand at one point, thinking of green tea and coffee and the times where i could use a good mug, but decided against trying to stuff one more thing into my already filled backpack. i have about a quarter of my belongings with me in washington. in a hiking backpack. the rest are in a duffle at a friend's in canada, waiting for the move to fernie.

before the record store, parker and i had picked up an australian friend from camp. the three of us chilled around seattle and at one point took some cool skyline pictures at a location where dozens of tripods and photographers were already at work. after hearing about some columbian coffee house, we drove a few blocks to visit el diablo, where i beat jeremy in checkers. twice. there was a good atmosphere and coffee and an all around good time.

Day 114

after years of yearning, the wait is over.

the seattle skyline rose under rolling grey clouds.

the needle, petite and reserved, waited at the left side of the horizon. bulky and dark buildings of men formed a line, all waiting, it seemed, for their turn for a chance to win the heart of the white princess of seattle if she would happen to turn her face back from a quiet gaze across the puget sound. i never once saw her flinch.

the bumbershoot festival, based at and around the base of the needle, drew masses of people, most of which were distracting and interesting and unlike any that i'd ever seen in person. death cab for cutie wasn't until nine p.m. and we rolled in at eleven a.m. to guarantee tickets to the main stage, so we wandered around checking out the rest of the festival.

white cups gleefully bobbed in the fists of thousands of coffee sippers. the green lady with parted hair was everywhere and i wondered for a moment who's picture the starbucks logo was inspired by. she is everywhere, now, whoever she is. especially this morning in seattle.

extremists and radical hippies carried signature clipboards and posterboard signs amidst the crowd. before a part of the film festival, a staff member stood before the crowd to introduce the indie films and gave a plug for another organization where we should help cover up our carbon footprint for driving that day. the streets were noticeably clean, even in a carnival of thousands of pedestrians, white food tents, and traffic controlling fences.

paramore drew a large emo rocker crowd. not the best fit for a midday show, but satisfying enough.

we stumbled upon a stage, one of about seven that were filled with music throughout the day, that had a delicate and pretty native american girl. she sang songs about ferns and water and fire and wild grass. her voice and hollowed echoing resonation accompanied her dark hair and strange modern charm.

starbucks and clif bar booths presented tiny samples to the crowd and we stopped back several times in between walking to different stages and theaters.

we went back to the main stage to secure the closest position towards the front as we could without being in the extra-special section right below the stage. under the glow of the looming space needle, hippies and emos and musicians and everyone else stood in the warm, clear summer night to shed their summer skin on this labor day and last night of the festival.

Day 69

the third week of camp ended in routine fashion. the q-town camp songs are so stuck in my head now that i felt a little stir crazy as they were being blasted across the field of departing campers.

the camp directors organize a weekly bus that goes into town for staff to take to get supplies. tonight they were going to see the new batman movie as well, but the thought of riding with a bunch of talking people to pay money to experience a formulated evening was not exciting to me at all.

jen's brother was playing at a coffee shop in nearby nanaimo. the music didn't start until 7ish, so we took off to the canadian version of borders. 'chapters' was filled with the smell of new books and a built-in starbucks. after some coffee and a scan through the fly fusion magazine, i found my place in the music/photography section. they're always together in whatever bookstore i've ever gone to and i think this is great.

i stood alone in front of the shelves of band and artist biographies and realized it would take about twelve years to be satisfied in this section, so i picked up the scrapbook of john lennon. this is an amazing recreation of mementos and copies of original song scribbles. i'd read the bob dylan one back at borders in the usa. i bought a new edition of a music magazine since it was cheaper. we stopped at a sporting goods store where i found some sweet clearance shirts that not only were needed but helped to fix yesterday's issues. the recognition of the smell of left shoes all pointing one direction on a sales wall was a scary and sudden reminder of the terms like over-pronation and motion control and adidiprene and gel. we got out of there soon after this.

the bands were playing at a place called the buzz and was laid out in a J pattern. the door was at the bottom left tip of this shape, the counter was on the inside left of the curve, and black wooden tables and leather seats and folding chairs scattered the long stalk that lead to the brick-backgrounded stage. the musicians often bounced on and off stage after songs as they played covers and some originals. i had a so-called 'canada moment' in this shop.

outside, on the right side of the stalk, there was a patio where people congregated at a wooden picnic table to talk over the music. someone had a couple small puppies and a little girl in a sundress and two small boys dressed in p.j.s chased the little animals around the concrete. across the median and street was a suburban subdivision where a canadian flag flapped on a pole in some backyard. back inside, most of the girls wore sundresses and many guys had beards or dreads or plastic-framed glasses. after walking in and standing around a bit, a barista came from behind the counter and offered me a free latte. the people i was with thought she was hitting on me, but i think they'd pry just made an extra on accident. free is free and i like free. anyways, this canada moment revealed a truly vagabonded utopia.

i'm back at camp now, sitting next to a piano keyboard on a dimly lit stage. the bus rolled in a few minutes ago. it's been a good day. tomorrow is 'staff development day' and sunday starts the next junior high camp and a new week of teaching video editing and shooting and such. i'm ready.

Day 32

jack kerouac's story 'on the road' accompanied a day of editing video and planning. music helps to offset the false light and stiff air of the office environment during these days that involve spending the majority of the workday up in the loft. one girl said she'd draw pictures to hang on the walls. this will be a much welcome addition.

after dinner, a few of us drove into town to chill at starbucks and then picked up some snacks at walmart to add to the midnight-snack stash. i wasn't too picky over coffee and the baristas ended up coaching me through the little process and made me something they promised to replace free of charge if i didn't like the creation. i was satisfied. wal-mart shopping turns into a completely different experience when there are only a few dollars to be spent on a few necessary items. and snacks. i thought it funny that when i have less dollars, i begin to notic other things i could buy instead of what i need to buy, but when i have a regular paycheck i can get only what i came to get without a second thought. having more than enough of money would take a lot of fun out of life, i'd imagine, because you could get whatever you wanted whenever you wanted it and still not understand why.

 

the whole trip turned out to be a lot of fun and we taped the empty coffee cup to the top of the car again. the passenger reactions of passing vehicles was even better than last time. i think this was because we saw the full process of the transition from gesturing to their realization of the purpose of the cup and its location. after a laugh or a wave, their cars would speed past and away into the dark highway ahead.

i'm going to spend the night with some people outside at the top of the climbing tower.

Day 19

success. i finally figured out a way to get the mini dv to capture with the audio. it took rigging up some half-broken equipment, but i've been able to start editing the great prank documentary. this is tremendous news and literally made my day.

this week has really flown by quickly as well and as i went off after dinner to read and drink coffee with a rocking chair, i couldn't remember any period in my life where time had gone by so fast while managing to remain so constantly good and whole. tonight after dinner, some of the camp's challenge course rides were opened for the staff so most of us took a ride on the massive vertical-drop swing. the adrenalin rush experience really didn't match the intensity of the overall hight and speed of the ride for some reason, but it was still a fun time.

since 'blue like jazz' has been finished and passed on, i had begun the re-read of 'searching for God knows what', miller's second main, yet not as wildly successful, output. however, this has been temporarily postponed by a book called 'the irresistible revolution' by shane claiborne. both authors share modernish ideologies and adhere to a similar style of the recantation of secularized, christianity-based stereotypes, but, as can be expected, do so in different manners of wordsmithship. claiborne, a perfect example of the worthlessness of judging a person by appearance (just look him up if you're curious why this would be at all relevant), offers adjective-conservative and edgy sentences that still seem to remain as relevant as miller's introspective, train-of-thought guided raconteur. this is simply a matter of alternative vs jazz genres- if music were applicable to books and writing. i'll let you know if any of this changes as the chapters develop.

finally, i appreciate the several contacts of approval i've had over the past few days concerning the contents of this little blog. thank you. hello london and everyone back home.

Day 5

the mountain trip didn't happen today. tim was scheduled to kitchen duty and i got lost from early morning til right before dinner in books and music. i found a keyboard today too. nobody is really around up there and i just now got back again from the empty room of dark echoes.

since today was a day off, i went to my spot on the pier for a few hours with some books and made it to chapter eight in blue like jazz. i had bought a survival book the night before i left illinois. i regarded it as the best choice from the barnes and noble's offerings because of the seemingly quality range and validity of material that appeared as i flipped through the choices. after reading through most of it today, however, i've found that much of it is an outline of obvious information that's supplemented with solemn reminders that if such-and-such happens, you most likely die very soon. i put 'survive anything' down and fell asleep for a little at the top of this rocking pier and woke up to the consideration of thoreau's walden pond experience. this inspired me to work on some pre-conceived poetry such as the material seen under the blog site's title.

tonight after dinner we went into town and had some sort of bonding scavenger hunt where teams were made to use bananas to measure widths of outlined locations throughout a little shopping district. random stuff like that. kinda fun. sort of. the starbucks told me and another guy with our cameras that we could not take any pictures in the shop. corporations...

the first formal, yet not full-scale, camp begins tomorrow. family camp weekend. i won't have any kids to teach, but we'll begin video production mode. should be good.

also, i don't recommend the card game "killer bunnies." you don't even want to know.