INFORMATION
Name: Rusty Willoughby
Age: 42
Occupations: Singer/Songwriter, Degrader of Cells through the lysosomal machinery, Art Director, Graphic Designer, Audio Recordist
Location: Ballard Locks, Seattle, Washington
INTERESTS
Music, audio recording, books, movies, photographs, paintings, lionhearted mistakes, graphic & information design, type, color, theoretical physics (relativity theory and quantum mechanics - very little of which I can understand) snowboarding, writing, walking, apple computers, politics, chaos theory, sharks, cooking, apple records, systems integration, cats, weather, imbecile watching...
NOTE
The larger painting in the photo above was done by Seattle artist and dietician, Tanya Roesijadi, who is also married to Jim Hunnicutt, Llama drummer and leader of the extraordinary PLFC.
LINKS
PERSONAL | Importance: LOW
Rusty Willoughby on iTunes
Rusty Willoughby on Amazon
Rusty Willoughby on CD Baby
Rusty Willoughby on Digstation
Rusty Willoughby Bio
Stranger Artist Page
Llama on MySpace
Flop on MySpace
Flop on Trouser Press
GLOBAL | Importance: VERY HIGH
Habitat for Humanity
No Logo
Worker Rights Consortium
Adbusters
Freedom From Hunger
Lifelong AIDS Alliance
The Hunger Site
Independent Media Center
Wash PIRG
PETA
P.A.W.S.
Amnesty International
The Onion
COUNTRY, ROCK 'N ROLL, CULTURE, ART & SCIENCE | Importance: HIGH
Gram Parsons
Tim Hardin
Ron Sexsmith
Fantagraphics
Fox Hollow
Booker White
Josh White
Mississippi John Hurt
Son House
Woodie Guthrie
Spoon Slide Guitar Man
Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee
The Elephants
Terry Lee Hale
Paul Lynde Fan Club
The Doll Test
The Rheas
Lisa King
Neko Case
Whiting Tennis
Steve Turner
Girl Trouble
The Fall-Outs
Jacques Brel
Knut Hamsun
Mary Shelley
Langston Hughes
Whiting Tennis
Rhea Patton
Beverly Buchanan
Richard Feynman
Amy Winehouse
Scott Walker
Head Heritage
Milton Resnick
Terry Gilliam
Johann Sebastian Bach
Edward Tufte
Pär Lagerkvist
Karen Blixen
Django Reinhardt
Yves Montand
PHOTOGRAPHS
Home (2007)
Fox Confessor (2006)
OCTOBER, 2008
Wednesday, October 8| 1:30 pm
Just finished flying over the south shore of Lake Superior. What a great lake! Im thinking about the day my daughter was born, just over twenty-one years ago. Iwas scared as fuck, and yet everything worked out pretty well. Of course she is a wonderful human being and makes me proud on a daily basis, but that was never anything I worried about. I was more worried about how I would take to being a parent, knowing how hard it was for my parents to deal with their offspring. I was worried about the impending complexity of adult life. I was afraid I'd take after my father in his need for retreat from his family. Well, in some ways, I certainly am my father, but not in the ways I'd worried so about. It's more in the ways that I perceive truth, wealth, happiness, right and wrong. It's in our philosophical leanings and our inability to derive satisfaction and pleasure from the status quo of modern western society. He was a raging alcoholic during a time when the effects of alcoholism were only beginning to be addressed by socitey and medicine. Although it was entirely his doing, the wrecking of his adult life, he certainly never got any support from his freinds, his family, nor his employer, which ironically enough, was a United States Veterans Hospital on American Lake. He did recieive fair medical attention from the Seattle VA in the year before he died, but by then, his light had dimmed significantly. Under the surly drunk, and neglectful tendencies, he was a good man. I wish he'd have known that himself. Or maybe he did? In the course of the next year, I think I'll re-read the letters I saved which he wrote to me in his last years. There are many, and in thinking now of the pile of them, I wonder if he was trying to reclaim his role as father to me. Anyway, I miss him today. And just so as not to be unfair, I have to also say I miss my mother very much, as well. I'll tell her story here soon, as it is the stuff of epic novels.
Tuesday, October 7| 12:00am
I'm in a Baltimore, Maryland hotel room, unable to sleep or be anything but a wretched human being. I fell off a cliff sometime a couple of years back and I believe I'm still in the midst of a gargantuan freefall. It helps not that I have terrible vertigo. I turned off the 2008 Presidential Debate tonight, even though I had been looking forward to it all week. I just can't stand the nonsense of it all. Of course, I'll vote Obama. Who in their right mind wouldn't? But I'm in no mood for frivilous name-calling and one-upsmanship. Get me out of here. The debate made me feel just like when I was a kid watching big time wrestling with Rowdy Roddy Piper Vs. Andre The Giant. I'm reading "This Place on Earth" by Alan Thein Durning. A nice little wake-up book. Thinking about Butch's Gun Shop on Aurora.
SEPTEMBER, 2008
Tuesday, September 29| 9:00pm
I don't really want to write now, but I'm sick to death of the fact the last thing I wrote about here was the republican VP pick. I just spoke on the phone wih my wonderful daughter, who is doing quite well, it appears. What a great kid. And I'm taking the week off work to readjust to a natural daily schedule, which includes, walks through various neighborhood parks, trips to the library, recording more music and reading as much as I can possibly stand before my old eyes start failing me. Unfortunately, the current political status of our country seems to be occupying a lot of all of our time lately. I've discovered the insanity that is Porter Wagoner this last month. Life just keeps coming at me with all kinds of shit I'd never think possible. Like that fact that I'm recording old country songs. Hell, don't I hate country music?! The more I let go of old stereotypes, preconceptions, general assumptions, and look more closely at - and reconsider - ill concieved opinions, the more stuff comes alive and the smaller the world seems. The more connected and similar everything and everyone seems. I'm beginning an overwhelming project, consisting of one chore; that of sifting through six decades of family photos that have been left in my care. A coherent and tragic story shall emerge, I am certain.
Saturday, September 13 | 5:00am
Sarah Palin. I don't want to rag on the woman (is that statement inherently sexist?), but... From everything I've heard thus far on where she stands politically, socially, culturally, or otherwise, I know I disagree with her vehemently on many many issues. But what the fuck is going on? The McCain's camp is acting like it's a witch trial should anyone dare to scrutinize this woman. But if his camp had done due diligence and vetted out this poor woman, prior to dragging her onto the national - and international - political stage, then we, as a country, wouldn't feel the need to do it publicly. It would save families from being embarassed on a grand level and it would save us from having to do the Republican Party's fucking J-O-B! I, for one, am now actually DAMNED SCARED, should the republican ticket win, and McCain drop dead of old agedness... Sarah Palin, President???!!! Fucking come on. Its certainly not that she's a woman, as I'd feel just fine should Hilary CLinton, Nancy Pelosi, Gloria Steinem or for that matter, Janine Garofalo or Sophia Coppola landed in the White House Hot Seat. More power to 'em! But fucking God Damned Sarah Palin? Did you know she charged rape victims for their rape kits when she was Mayor of Wasilla? She sued the Bush administration for designating Polor Bears an endangered species! Right of the Bush administration on envionmental issues? I thought that impossible! For FUCK FUCK sake, people???!!!!! WAKE UP. PLEASE WAKE UP. The God Damned ignorance of middle America (or whatever America it is) is contributing heavily to my paranoia, and it's fucking pissing me OFF! I gave to the Obama Campaign today. I mean, I really do think Obama is the shit. But all that positive, hope makin', energizin', sacrifice inspiring, change-a-comin', glory haleluija-izing aside, we got to make sure McPalin does not win this election. Holy shit, people.
Friday, September 12 | 11:00am
The man who designed the apartment complex I live in was a genius. The light throughout the day could only happen with a lot of planning and a love for the natural patterns and movements of the celestial. Kudos to a man I'll never know, but whom I admire. I've been r ecording up a storm. Nothing new that ready to post yet, but I'm enjoying music more than ever, right now. Zoey has figured out how to get me to play with him and his toy string about every 7 minutes. That cat is a riot. I love him. I need to start about nineteen paintings that are swimming around in my head. Too much to focus on any one thing right now. Maybe I'll try and settle down this weekend. Sheesh.
AUGUST, 2008
Saturday, August 30 | 7:00pm
Returned from a stroll at Bumbershoot today. Neko Case, Jon Rauhouse, and Rachel Flotard worked in conjunction and got me a pass to see the show. THANK YOU!! Those folks are really the sweetest people ever. Top notch all the way around. They feed me, they entertain me... and I swear, I tell anyone who listens. Neko will be the one of our contemporaries who will be remembered well after we're all dead and gone and dead and gone again. More so than even than the likes of Edward Vedder and The Pear Jam. Her voice will be why, but her writing is getting so fucking good. She played new songs today as well as a nice Harry Nilsson cover. And a Dylan tune, but I always forget it's name. The show was a broad-daylight affair in an old high-school football stadium, but the lack of conventional rock show affectation was a nice departure from the hyper shows one normally gets these days. Out of the last ten shows I've seen that have bowled me over, three of them have been Neko shows. Holy shit, she is that good.
Friday, August 29 | 9:10am
It's my Mom's birthday today. She was a wonderful human being. Just returned from NYC, where I was there for about a minute. I've spent more time flying over this country in the last 6 months than I care to, to be quite honest. Watched and listened to Obama's speech at the '08 Democratic convention from my airplane seat. Thank you JetBlue and Direct TV.Inspriring and a much needed moment after the last eight years of fucking Bush/Cheney. Had a wonderful weekend with old friends down in Colton, Oregon a few weeks back, where we watched a lightening storm in the company of a full moon. Life just keeps going and going and I'm returning to finding peace in stuff like drying my laundry on a clothes line. Listening to Chet Baker sing and play. Walking instead of driving. I'm generally busying myself with trying to not take anything for granted. I'm going to buy an old used one-speed bike this weekend. With a fucking basket for groceries. I live on the Burke Gilman Trail, near it's end at Golden Gardens. No more hills to contend with just get my weekly replacement of half-and-half and coffee. Off to craigslist.
Took a walk later today and found a new little public beach perched at the mouth of the Lake Washington Ship Canal, which connects Seattle's inner, fresh water lakes with the Puget Sound. Went there twice today. Once at low tide, when the air smelled of the sea and the gulls were playing in the wind while hunting crab on the beaches. Later again, when the sun was setting and the tide was high and a fishing boat named the Noshsack Spirit was returning from a stint at sea. I'm in love with my new neighborhood. I love watching trains traverse trestles and boats buoy in the bay.
Friday, August 15 | 6:10am
It's my nephew's 22nd birthday today, and my daughter had her 21st birthday last week. Where did the last two decades go?! Time is relentless and cares nothing for you, so if you want to accomplish something, time is your enemy. Fight inertia and start doing what it is you want to be doing. Right now.
I'm living in Ballard now. Stuff happens and one realizes that one needs to take a deep breath and look more closely at things. Nebulous and alluding sentence/thought, I know, but it speaks volumes to my own situation. And as the long hot summer dissipates, I find myself in a good place - literally - with time and space finally on my side. Time to start writing and painting in earnest, maybe.
JULY, 2008
Friday, July 6 | 1:26am
Played what might be my last ever live show yesterday. It just hit me like a brick wall. I'm tired of playing music AT people. I love to play music with people, at home. I will seek to do that for the rest of my life. Stages. No thank you. I bristle at the prospect of having to do a proper show. Funny how the mind unfolds, but I'm having an Epiphany.
Visited with my Dutch/Fresian friend, Sjoerd Boersma, yesterday as well. That, was really nice. He and his family are doing very well.
Friday, July 4 | 10:46pm
Awoke to fireworks. Literally. Lied in bed and watched displays out on the peninsula. Then sat out on the deck and watched the big display over Elliott Bay. The boat parade with reflections of the display was beautiful. Carmella is gone to Rock Show. Same one that has been playing out here for years. Anyway, another in a long line of summer holidays spent thinking more than doing anything. Jet lag kept me home. But nothing could have made me go. I'm the bench. Second option. It's fine actually, as I'm helping the cats manage the subsonic assault. Why do we celebrate freedom with war?
Had a very nice dinner with Robin tonight. I'm so proud of that kid. She has grown into a wonderful young lady. She's working hard this summer after studying abroad at the end of her school year. She is a steamroller. I'm going to make her take some time for herslef before the end of summer. Much deserved.
Thursday, July 3 | ?
Ha! The first entry where I'm actually unsure of the time. It's 10:15pm in London, 2:15pm in Seattle and I just flew over Bjork's house, and I've no idea what her clock says. The woman behind me is using her window seat mate as a cheap psychologist. I've heard her life story and there is absolutely no end in sight. Sad, really as she obviously has nobody to confide in her life. The poor English chap hearing her out is probably wishing he could be watching Catwoman or Garfield on the inflight movie system. I mean, shit, I had to put on headphones. So now I've got Jacques Brel's Les Marquises cranked. What a lovely and haunting sound. If I could make music like this, I'd feel I was really on to something. But I don't, and so I don't. Ah turbulence. IT'smakeing my typing shiet. Time towa'-9 wrap it up, as the kkkkkkeyboard is dancing now. Later.
Back. Rewound to Mai 40. Lovely too. Makes me want to play the drums with brushes. I've got a four day holiday weekend ahead of me, so perhaps I'll do just that and play drums all weekend. I've got a show at the High Dive on saturday though and it's going to be broadcast on KEXP. I've only practiced on shop guitars and I haven't sung in a week. This show will probably suck pretty bad. More turbulence plus nothing really to say, so I'm signing off. Peace.
Thursday, July 3 | 1:13am
Leaving London later on this evening. I'll miss this city, as it is always very kind to me. The folks we get to work wih at the Hall are all top notch, professionals who also happen to be the kindest clients I have had the pleasure of working with. My insomnia turns me into a wreck each time I'm here, and they just roll with my dim bulb brain as I fight of the effects of jetlag. In short, the folks here are all very kind and love to laugh. And it's been a successul week, in regards to the work we have accomplished on getting the Hall's new website speced out and designed. Oh and I should mention the folks I get to work withon my team are all wonderful as well. But that goes without saying. Thank goodness I work where I do. I'd rather not be spending my life fulilling someone else's vision, but if one has to work in this world in order to eat and have a roof over one's head, I certainly can't complain about what I get to do for my paycheck. Very little compromising and lots of creative exploration with smart people who love to do what they do.
It's been a very musical time here as well. I've had the pleasure of walking up to Denmark Street, near Charing Cross, to play guitars a bunch. Listened to Lou Reed perform Berlin in it's entirety, although the show was sold out so I listened for a spell from the stairs in front of the Hall. The next day I poked my head into the box seats to hear Brian Wilson soundchecking. Then yesterday while walking myself through Hyde park during a gorgeous sunset, I listened for a bit to an outdoor Jack Johnson concert. I know, Jack Johnson. Maybe not yer cup o' tea. Normally, not mine either... But the lilting, melifluous sounds of his semi-acoustic meanderings fit the evening perfectly, and the huge crowd at the show, and the non-payers spread out into the park were sure enjoying it. Plus I've seen the guy perform with Ed, and Jack passionately idolizes Ed, and we all know Ed is a stand up guy. And double plus, whenever I find myself casually dismissing someone else's music, I think of Dylan's remark; "I didn't know there was such a thing as a music police..." and it makes me realize that most folks playing music have way more in common than they have NOT in commom. Mind you, I have absolutly no patience for fakes and phonies and scenesters and hangers on and coat tail riders and narcisists and package pushers and so on and so on... but my tolerance, and even love, for ALL music makes it clear, in my mind, that if a peson decided to play music in this life, the more power to them! Fuckin' ay, nice show, Mr. Johnson!
JUNE, 2008
Monday, June 30 | 11:19pm
My forty-second birthday is about to expire. Another silent birthday as I didn't have the heart to bore anyone around me with the news. I treated myself to a wonderful shepherd's pie at Maggie Jones in the Kensington neighborhood, near my hotel. About ten blocks north up Glouster Road. It was delicous and made me slightly sad that my appetite is that of a small ant. I barely made a dent in my poor pie, but I enjoyed it very much! Goodnight and remember to say happy birthday to Bill Campbell tomorrow. Cheers, mate.
Sunday, June 29 | 4:40am
Not to obsess, but I can't help thinking that if I had come home from work at my normal time, I'd have ben exactly where that Nissan was on friday night in front of my house. My constitution is too slight. I'm in London and per usual, I can't sleep. My mind is racing and I am absolutley bummed that I have no guitar for the remainder of the week. It has been one of my greatest fortunes to have learned at an early age how cathartic playing music can be. To have found such an outlet for my unthrottled emotional response to living on this planet has been a literal life saver for me. Not having access to musical instruments is torture. Maybe the cruelest by-product of this too is the fact that listening to music is even difficult, for it only inspires me to play. I'm going to a music store today. Maybe one can rent a guitar in this town.
Saturday, June 28 | 2:30am
I'm on the red eye from Seatac to Heathrow. Listening to the life affirming sounds of Bing Crosby and Jim Reeves, I'm beginning to find strength to process my day. I fell asleep for all of an hour and now am relegated to enduring the remainder of the flight imprisoned in my window cell with the mental focus of a drunk, due to the Tylenol PM I had been so keen on earlier this trip. Before leaving to the airport this evening, i witnessed the most horrific thing. At almost exactly 5:00pm, a wreckless driver in a red SUV, who had been reported to the police just minutes prior, missed the bend in the road right in front of my house, and proceeded to drive straight through a little Nissan Sentra which was meandering nicely along, windows wide open on one of the first gorgeous summer days of this year. I was in the house packing for my London trip when i heard what sounded like the Blue Angels flying through the living room. The jet ceased only after the loudest, most intensely unnerving crushing metal sound I've ever heard. I was one of the first three people to the scene and the groans of the poor old man in the Sentra will haunt me to my dying day. The dude in the smoking SUV was trying to leave the scene in complete delerium, but was pinned into his dashboad pretty good. People began descending upon the scene and eventualy aid workers arrived to cut the meat from the wreckage. Jaws of life and all that stuff you see on TV. Anyway, I was already an emotional wreck as I have this hatred for airports at dusk, and now I had to process this immersion into smoldering steel and broken bone. Not that I had anywhere near the ordeal the occupants of the Nissan stew can were having to overcome, certainly. But that visceral evening won't go gently from my mind. I almost couldn't fathom driving myself to the airport, except for the fact that I couldn't possibly be a passenger in a car with someone else in control. Anyway, I'm a nervous wreck about it all and now I'm hovering over the north Atlantic. Life gives me too much at once all of the time. Good and bad. Like everyone, I suppose. Drive safely, folks.
MAY, 2008
Sunday, MAY 11 | 11:05pm
I'm really enjoying the fact that I get to express exactly what I want with music these days, with so little regard for commercial success. Not that it ever concerned me to begin with, and, to be frank, not that it ever concerned anyone else either! But I must say, narrowing down the necessary number of hearts to please to exactly one, brings a rare and much needed freedom. It is selfish, but who gets hurt? Certainly not the sensible, the generous nor those on their own journey to manifest what is at beating at their core. Live and let live.
Sunday, MAY 4 | 9:31pm
Recording again. back and forth to London a lot these days. What an absolutely wonderful city. I leave again in a month. Going to Chicago again next week. New solo record -
Filament Dust - released this week. Finishing mixes today on six songs for the next record... I'll try to write more. A lot going on. Good for the mind.
DECEMBER, 2007
Sunday, DECEMBER 23 | 9:55pm
6 months into playing without electricity and I'm in love with music again. I feel the need to write a hundred songs. Cheers and happiest holidays, folks.
JULY, 2007
Sunday, July 15 | 6:00am
I can't sleep. But really, my chronic insomnia just doesn't bother me anymore. Dictating the terms of one's own life can be suprisingly liberating! I'm middle-aged and I'm just now learning when convention and exception serve me best. Slow might be a good word to describe me. Llama had an acoustic practice yesterday and it made me feel like I never want to play electric guitar again. Of course, I recognize this as a phase so this time I won't be hawking all my gear. Our ears are thanking us for the change, although Jim doesn't seem to be having fun yet. He needs my old miniature drum set. I miss that contraption. It was pure genius. A tiny drumset for playing along with records on the stereo - or for playing along with damaged goods like Scott and I. Fuck, we're old. But quite honestly, just the sound of playing acoustic music seems so liberating to me right now. I mean, Scott has such a wonderful voice and I can HEAR it when we sit and play acousticly. Oh well enough about that. Although one last perception. it dawned on me yesterday that playing music at human volume levels in somebody's living room is really very, very different from gathering in a musty, lightless basement and amplifying oneself 100X. I'm wondering if some of my adverse feelings about playing music in front of people has to do with the habits I've created for myself. I've always practiced music in dark basements away from people and life in general. Could that be part of why I dissassociate my music from other parts of my life and find it so agonizingly difficult to play music in front of people? Maybe along with ditching the amp comes ditching the cave. I think I'm going to move to the country and get a dog. I like being able to walk everywhere, but I can't take the throngs of people. And the God-damned cell phones. This is really more of a commentary on our culture than my friends, but last week I saw some people I know and respect get the most excited I've ever seen them... because they were getting iPhones. I suppose I was just as excited about getting a new guitar, but somehow I think there is a difference. There really isn't though, is there? Regardless, I just need to go rescue a dog, gather the cats, isolate myself and move to Carnation or somewhere quiet. I think it will suit me at this stage. Perhaps I'll choose a place through backwards engineering. I'll base it on bus routes into the city. Or get another bike and live along the Burke-Gilman and Sammamish River Trails. People are driving me mad. I went to a BBQ yesterday and stayed for fifteen minutes. I just can't talk to people in social situations anymore. Period. Woof!
Wednesday, July 11 | 11:00pm
Tonight, Llama played for the first time in over two months. And later tonight, Spoon will be on the Letterman show. And right now, I'm going to download their brand new record. And tomorrow I may get a guitar I've been coveting for a bit now. I've saved my dough and been real good. What a nice little 32 hours of music.
Monday, July 9 | 6:50am
I'm going to begin practicing patience. I'm starting to understand the complexities and subtlties of how I never grew-up, really. Patience, tolerance...
Sunday, July 8 | 10:45am
I'm tired today. I have a collage to finish, a painting to start, about three songs to finish and I'm busy with work. All good, but I'm too exhausted to think of any of it today. I went to hear The Elephants play at The Crocodile last night. Sounds like I went to the Zoo. The Elephants are my favorite NW band right now. Everytime I see them play, a new song jumps out at me as being their best. They are really great and it'll be fun to share a bill with them later this summer. It'll suck, however, going on after them, as they are a tough act to follow... and kinda funny. Another somewhat related note. Acoustic Llama needs to return. It's how we began and I'm interested in NOT singing into a metal tube for a change. For some reason I hate amplification these days. I must be getting old, but honestly, nothing sounds GOOD through dumb ass PA systems. Everything sounds like it's on steroids and nothing sounds like a natural instrument. Maybe my ears suck, but I just like the idea of sound not getting turned into an electrical impulse and then back into sound again. Humans love to over-engineer. I'm sure this phase will pass, but for now ditch the amp. Oh, of course, I must add... this comes on the heels of spending dough to have my electric guitars set-up. I'm an idiot.
Thursday, July 5 | 7:55pm
Boy... Sometimes I read what I write on this stupid page and it makes me think I really need to get back on some kind of SSRI. Especially on days like today when there is a certian lightness and clarity. Something seems to be inhibiting my serotonin reuptake! Well good, God damn it. But in all seriousness, it's good that I've discovered enough to recognize these physiological phases. Maybe I can make some better and more rational decisions regarding my reclusive inclinations? I've got health care, I've got half a brain... Perhaps I'm addicted to the manic phases? It appears I have some thinking to do. I've been walking the two miles to work everyday, but all I've been thinking about lately is that I really suck playing the guitar and that maybe I should really consider getting better as a matter of self-respect.
Wednesday, July 4 | 10:00pm
I don't feel like celebrating my independence. I walked to Kerry Park, but as soon as the fireworks started, I walked back home. From here it's all booms and sirens. We celebrate with war. My only wish is that I could communicate to all of the animals in the city that this putrid display of humanity will all be over soon. The crowds gathered to watch the pyrotechnics all seem like television people. Scantily-clad girls trying to prove they are grown-up and their drooling Bowflex retards in tow. I'd like to celebrate my independence from the human race. I'm going to go watch the remainder of the war from the empty corner apartment next to mine. I discovered it the other day when an incessant beeping drove me to inquire of it's source. When nobody answered the door, I tried entering only to suddenly be inside of this empty apartment. Once I stopped the oven from telling me it was finished self-cleaning, I found it alarmingly peacful inside. Like it was my own place and I was finally rid of all of the material crap that plagues me so. Rid of the things that define me as a physical being.
JUNE, 2007
Saturday, June 30 | 8:50pm
So today is my birthday. Forty-one years and I'm still not sure what it is that one is supposed to do in this skin. Oh well. today I only saw people in my family. My world has inverted as normally I never see anyone in my family. It was really nice though, having dinner and talking with my brother and my nephews. Other than that two hours at dinner though, I haven't really spoken today. Normally over this period of self-imposed-house-arrest, I find myself talking out loud quite often. Not necessarily talking to myself, but rather, to nobody in particular. Today was a silent day. A birthday present to myself... a reprieve from inanity... that loops on conveyors... crossed gray tissue matters... find utterance in tongue fallen... far out of practice.
Sunday, June 24 | 8:20pm
Oh man oh man! I wish I could make this stuff up. So today I went to Dusty Strings, this ye olde hippified acoustic music store in Fremont. Super friendly people who run the store, whom, of course, must cater to the gnomes and hobbitts who tunnel down through their musical den to gently sprinkle magical notes into the human domain... ah but I get ahead of myself. So I'm being helped by the very nice man who is telling me about some very nice guitars that I realize I absolutely do not need, and then BAM!!... Like I was a King and the jesters were inspired! A man in his early 50's, along with his shiny new girlfriend of maybe, 25 or so, sit down to sample "some of the classic tone woods, baby." I am NOT making this shit up. Strums a couple of chords and VAVOOM... launches into a full-throated rendition of Desperado, by The Eagles. Remember that Seinfeld episode where Elaine's dumb-ass boyfriend gets all misty when "his" song, Desperado, came on? Remember how funny that was? Well this was fucking ten million times funnier. Everyone in the store just froze. Nobody wanted to acknowledge that it was happening, but it was absolutely impossible to ignore. Worse then if we were all being robbed at gun-point. Worse than if a car had crashed through the wall killing all of us... He crooned the entire fucking song to his girlfriend right there in the store. Holy Shit! THEN....Oh my God... THEN he goes on to say how "guitars are like women...each one is unique, and beautiful...." I vomit a little. "... Their curves need to be caressed, their egos pampered..." This is when I had to leave the store thinking I might never return. Do people really say these things? I think my self-imposed house-arrest has affected how I see ALL people. Everyone seems absolutely absurd to me. Everyone seems so...so... social. Weird. But today, just fucking FUNNY!
Saturday, June 23 | 10:59am
Beverly Buchanan's sculpture series of shacks is amazing. All of her work is wonderful, but I love the sculptures. A sample
Friday, June 22 | 8:16am
I played a solo acoustic show last night at Jules Maes with my old friend Terry Lee Hale. His set was just fucking amazing. Honestly. I'm just so constantly floored by the music being made by my friends, these days. Anyway, pick up his new record, Shotgun Pillowcase. WOW! Then catch him as he comes back through town sometime before December. I know a couple of more internationally famous singer-songwriter kind of dudes who are fabulous, don't get me wrong. But Terry Lee just makes them all seem like children. He's become a masster of his music. What a force.
Wednesday, June 20 | 8:20am
I went through a small battery of tests yesterday to determine what might be causing a persisting stomach problem that's been plaguing me for some time. The humor seems lost on doctors when you point out that their tests cause the exact same symptoms as the problem they are trying to diagnose. Anyway, I'm couch ridden today, hence the entry to this page. I guess one should watch for these updates to occur only when I"m sick or under house-arrest. If anyone reads this, which they won't, which is just fine. But if a human runs across this sentence, they should listen to the song Golden Sun by The Elephants. It's beautiful.
MAY, 2007
Saturday, May 26 | 11:03pm
You know the satisfaction you feel when you figure something out that has exercised it's ability to puzzle you? I finally understand my attraction to these collages I've started making. In the course of any given work day, I'd have several system windows, browser windows, application windows open on my computer screen, overlapping each other (the beauty of the mac OS) and otherwise coexisting without any thought whatsoever. I'd find myself, at times, going into download and catalogue mode, saving thumbnails indiscriminately, only to return to them later with confusion as to why I'd bothered to fill my hard drive with stupid and random images. The power had vanished and I'd throw them out.
But cutting up these images I'm collecting at yard sales, junk stores, used book stores, newspaper bins, from my junk mail... and then rearranging them again within the confines - and context of - a finite space, makes them explode with meaning again. For ME, I should stress. I certainly don't believe these are as important to anyone else as they are to me, right now. It makes sense though, when I think back to my monitor, with video of Al Gore overlaying paparazzi snapshots of Britney Spear's crotch, overlaying atrocities in Darfur, overlaying some Red Bull HTML email I'm designing, etc., etc...
Anyway, I can rest now, having struggled with a kaleidoscope of ideas, images and thoughts today. I'm completely spent. I'm too tired to even flip the television on, so I'm going to listen to Django Reinhardt and fall asleep. I'll post my yet untitled new work tomorrow after I've sealed it with a polymer.
Oh yeah. Hippies are taking over my neighborhood this weekend as Folk Life Festival is in full swing. Charming, actually, and all of the alleys smell like weed.
Friday, May 25 | 5:55am
I just finished watching some educational programming on the Discovery channel about the life of the early twentieth-century Danish writer, Karen Blixen. She's best known, to myself anyway, as the author of Out of Africa and Babette's Feast. Her early adult years spent in Africa ended tragically and upon moving back to Denmark, she reinvented herself as a writer, originally writing under the pen name Isak Dinesen. At the point that I began watching this program, the focus was on Karen's life at her family estate in Rungstedlund, located on the Sound just north of Copenhagen. Although in poor health in later life, she marched on, preferring to be "like a thoroughbred horse; going to the very end." I think it's sort of amusing that she was originally scoffed at in Denmark, and in London where she first tried to publish, and it was an American audience that brought her success as an author. My, those were very different times.
I've realized I enjoy watching the old footage of people like, Blixen, Williams, and Resnick because, one; it affords me a look into world where art is important. And two; it shows these people in the context of - at the time - the contemporary world. These individuals and the way they think and perceive is in such contrast to the world around them, yet they are so a intrinsicly a part of the fabric of their communities. Their life is art.
Thursday, May 24 | 6:45am
I woke up from a dream I had in which a cow jumped onto the top bunk of a bed, cornered away in some kind of a dorm room, in order to exact revenge on a presumably less than kind human. What egregious act prompted such abnormal hostility? Probably unmitigated slaughter of their kind, I'd guess. I think it's what cows should do from now on. Just not put up with this type of treatment.
In 2001, a hammerhead shark was born in the Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha, Nebraska, to a virgin mother and recent analysis of its DNA, in fact, found no trace of any chromosomal contribution from a male partner. Something is killing off the North American Honey Bee population. They have dubbed it Honey Bee Colony Collapse Disorder. I'm glad I like bread.
I"ve started to paint and make collages. It sounds sort of stupid. For one, that I would only now consider making this kind of art. And second, that I am now making this kind of art. I keep reminding myself that it's unimportant and that I'm not any good at it. It FEELS good.
Wednesday, May 23 | 8:05am
Yesterday was a big day. Which reminds me; Why do I date these entries if I'm always talking about YESTERDAY? TODAY is the birthday of Pär Lagerkvist. Read The Dwarf. Anyway... Yesterday the Portland Trailblazers received first pick in the 2007 NBA draft, while the Sonics received second. That is HUGE! Now if the Sonics can just stay in the Pacific Northwest. It's all I ask. Also I believe some dude from Seattle won that ridiculous Dancing with The Stars contest (their web site is selling it with some booty shots) as well as some other dude from Bothell holding his own in that silly American Idol contest! Kudos to the mojo on the 47th Parallel. Oh, also, I gave notice at work. I need a change and I'm feeling optimistic!
Tuesday, May 22 | 7:00am
I've spent this morning watching Against All Odds, from Annenberg/CPB Media. They hooked me in by referencing Edward Tufte's The Visual Display of Quantitative Information, which has literally been on my desk for the last week awaiting a spare evening. I never went to college (financial and intellectual poverty) so programming like this is very seductive to me. I sat and revisited reading histograms, picturing distributions, correlation, random variables, the question of causation... Anyway, interesting. Now I need more coffee and a semi-loud dose of Ambulance LTD.
Monday, May 21 | 8:00am
Yesterday afternoon was wonderfully gloomy. I believe we set a record for the day in measured rainfall. I wanted to hear stringed instruments, so I began listening to some Haydn chamber orchestra music I have around the house. It wasn't doing it. Not only was it dreadfully upbeat, but something about violin soloing just drives me up the fucking wall these days. So in the most trite and shallow of ways, I decided to search for some music solely based on wanting to hear a lower register. In doing so I discovered the six suites for unaccompanied cello by Bach. I've been listening ever since. It never ceases to astonish me how such trivial motivations and decision making can lead to the most profound discoveries. And conversely, how such focused intellectual acuity and dedicated sincerity can lead to such absolute garbage.
Sunday, May 20 | 11:00am
I watched Lost in La Mancha last night. For anyone who might not be familiar, it's the story of Terry Gilliam trying to make his film, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote. It's an absolute glorious rumination on failure and is as funny as it is sad. Anyone who has seen even one Terry Gilliam movie knows his undeniable genius, so to witness someone so in touch with their ability to channel their fantasies and realize their visions, dealing with a project so out of control and in complete disarray, is illuminating. It's actually reassuring in that it reminds one that we're all human and having control over almost ANYTHING is an illusion at best.
On the flip side of disaster, I recently saw Tideland, another Gilliam film from 2005, I think. Brilliant.
Saturday, May 19 | 9:00am
I woke up this morning and realized I need to recut the vocals on Of The Eyes of A Deer. from the new Llama recordings. It always bums me out to finish mixing and find that stupid bit that I should have recorded over. Like the lead vocal on one of my favorite tracks. Oh well, it's entirely my fault and I'm probably more mad that it will cost me another five-hundred bucks to fix it.
But over all I'm very happy with the way the new LLama recordings turned out. I'ts different from the first record, but I sometimes worry about regressing. I absolutely do not want Llama to ever resemble past efforts - like Flop or Pure Joy - because those bands just seem so much a part of who I used to be. I'd like to get better and move forward, thank you very much!
Oh, by-the-way, it's a killer Spring morning outside my apartment window. The leaves are filling in and starting to obscure my view (more like a glimpse) of the Sound, but it's a sign that summer is around the corner. For anyone who knows me and my complaints of last year, the fact that I'm looking forward to warm weather is a sign that things are looking up. Here's a beautiful song called I Hear This Music from the The Tripwires to start your day. Cheers.
Friday, May 18 | 8:00am
I slept for once, last night. I got up early and there was a documentary on PBS about the abstract expressionist painter, Milton Resnick. I've liked his work, but this little vignette into his life - at a groggy 6 in the morning - gave me a new appreciation. The later part of his life in New York is just so wonderful and beautiful.
It's the second time in a month that watching television has brought me back to an artist I'd been interested in, but never pursued. A few weeks ago, I'd done a similar thing and woken up early to find myself immersed in the world - and WORDS - of William Carlos Williams. I can still hear his voice in my head.
Oh, I'm sorry. One last thing. If you are from around here - which I am - today has a special significance. Its the anniversary of the day Mt. St. Helens errupted and wreaked havoc on Washington state. I still remember seeing the plume. My brother, Rik, and I were driving into Tacoma from the peninsula to visit our Mom and buy records. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, so the single, huge "cloud" seemed strange and bewildering. We could have listened to the radio to find out what was going on, but I think the Starjets were in the cassette deck... not even a giant plume of ash could compete with "School Days" blasting in the car on a sunny May morning. I'm an old man now, and I still feel the same way.
Thursday, May 17 | 5:50pm
I've designed roughly 29 sites in the last 16 months. Work continues to be extremely busy, and in the evenings, we've been finishing up the new Llama record. I'm not sure why I insist on calling it a "record," however, it is a collection of new songs that we'll try to release later this summer. Look for it on iTunes and at Amazon.
Johnny Sangster is recording and mixing the project, and so far it's been wonderful working with him. I was fortunate to play along side his brother, Jim, in Sgt. Major for a spell. An unbelievably talented family. Anyway, the stuff sounds good, but I'm so sick of hearing my own voice that I'm forcing Llama to take a hiatus until the end of summer. In the meantime you can listen to this unmastered version of Smokers.
Wednesday, May 16 | 4:20pm
My brain is like an enemy today. Although it did make the decision to listen to The Lund Brothers. The are simply fantastic.
Tuesday, May 15 | 12:00pm
Super tired, but unable to stop myself from filling every spare moment with monumental projects. Work is piling high and I've decided it's necessary to record an album this summer. Llama is going in to mix with Johnny Sangster today, but I feel like I should really be more well rested. And of course I decided I needed to have a more reasonable web site. People got real upset about my old site, for some reason. See all of the extra work you cause me people?
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