Davey

in memoriam

I’m at an age now where; as I reflect back on my life, I’ve said goodbye to a lot of people. Rock & Roll is not for the faint of heart, and it’s claimed the life of many a young person.

“Rock & Roll means well, but it can’t help telling young boys lies” – Mike Cooley

In what was probably 2001, I played in a surf-punk band called The Open Wounds. I wandered into S.T.A.R.S. on whyte avenue, a local punk rock venue that was built on the bones of a few other deceased legendary venues, where I met P.R. Dougless. I don’t remember if I showed him a demo or not but he agreed to throw my band on a bill.

Long story short, he took a shining to me. He took me under his wing and I became his little brother in punk rock from that day forward. To this very day, he has paid cash money for every record I’ve ever made… in addition to introducing me to many of the people I’ve now known for a quarter of a century. There have been countless gigs, even more drunken nights… DJ sets… new venues… old venues…

What has been blowing my mind lately is that some of my long time acquaintances have almost the same story as I do… except they’re a couple years older than me, so Doug took them under his wing in 1998 or 1996.

Dougless was literally the pillar of a community. He quite literally held up a corner of the Edmonton music community. He wanted to glory. He only wanted brotherhood, and acceptance, and integrity. He wanted to know we had his back the way he had ours and I can say without doubt that the answer was an emphatic “Fuck Yeah!”

The day before he died he was excitedly texting me about trying to create an opportunity for my band in Eastern Canada… in amongst asking me about the benefits of my vegan way of eating and how it made me feel. He naturally downplayed his health at the time when I asked how he was doing. I guess we all do that.

My last words to him were; in reference to his apology for not trying to help me get out east sooner, “It’s all good brother. Everything happens when it’s supposed to.”

Of course I wish I’d told him I love him.
But I rest knowing that there was no question of whether or not I did.

Today we mourn the loss of P.R. Dougless… Today is his memorial.
And tonight, I’ll be playing one of his favorite songs with my rock & roll brethren, Jon Christopherson from Raygun Cowboys, at our show together at The Starlite Room.

Dougless was excited about Jon and I playing together, and him being there. In his mind it was like getting the band back together… as the three of us would DJ a rockabilly/swing night at S.T.A..R.S. all those years ago.

Salad days.

I miss you Doug.
And I love you. Thanks for everything.

room for the miracle

I like a plan. I tell my daughter this all the time… “If you have a plan, and the plan changes, then everything is fine – you just adjust and move along. But if you don’t have a plan, and things change – it can really derail you.“

I’ve known people who make plans that are set in stone. It’s impressive to me when people have that kind of resolve, but the people I’m referencing are generally “not good with change” and I’ve seen the ugly side come up when complications arise.

I’ve similarly known people who are ultimately aloof. Nothing is much of a concern, and they take life as it comes, but they aren’t necessarily working towards anything specific, either.

The life I want to live is in the middle.

Having plans & goals moves me forward. The next training session. The next event. The next song I need to write. The next record I need to record. The next tour. All of these things require planning and execution… but all of them have uncertain outcomes. The only thing I can plan is to make an effort. The outcome is not something I can anticipate… just as I can’t anticipate who will be there to witness it.

Therein lies the miracle. The unanticipated outcome. The opportunity to do something extraordinary. To my mind, being married to the outcome is just as dire as never embracing the opportunity. This life has a different pace than that of the aloof person, or the high-strung person, and as much as this life is a hybrid of both, neither of them will really understand how it works. To have a solid plan and be open to all possible outcomes… and all possible outcomes of all possible outcomes.

It’s occurred to me as I write this that an element of being a dreamer or a romantic is crucial to this lifestyle, and in 2025 that’s a difficult thing. People all around us are bogged down with news of international politics instituting muzzle velocity peppered with bullshit clickbait designed to keep us shopping and snacking. It’s truly disheartening to see people dulling their own shimmer by concerning themselves and stressing over things they cannot control.

If I can encourage anyone to do anything… it’s to dial back their content consumption and to go spend some time near trees and/or water and/or mountains for as long as they can, as frequently as they can. That spiritual connection with our environment is crucial to our well-being, and as much as that connection does involve other people, it does not involve arguing with those people in a comment section.

Anyway…
I hope to see you out there, in nature.
In the middle.
Where the miracle is.

indecision

Self-awareness seems to come with age. I recently reminded myself of this, as I my long-time digital companion, my Samsung Galaxy s9 cellular telephone died its forever death… it seems that technology has advanced a bit over the past 7 years since I made my last decision about what kind of phone I want. Prices of these things have also advanced significantly… so in my stubborn way, I found a phone that will do almost everything I want it to, and I paid $156 for it. The remaining couple of things it doesn’t do just weren’t worth another $900 (or more) to me.

However, delving into price and feature comparisons, reviews, and forums to figure out which cheap phone is the best for me is a ridiculous exercise. Comparing companies you’ve never heard of in your life against each other, and peppering in reviews from people who likely expect WAY too much from a cell phone in this day & age is not a hobby I recommend undertaking, especially when hundreds of dollars are potentially on the line, objectively.

One thing I DID know, though, was that once I made a decision, i had to pull the trigger fast. Once a decision is made, and the ‘buy now’ button has been pressed, I know for a fact that I can close countless google chrome tabs, and put the ordeal out of my mind completely, because I won’t be able to do ANYTHING until the device arrives and I put it through the paces.

It might sound really dumb… but it’s a massive sense of relief.
Even though for the moment, I am phoneless… I am not completely unreachable and a solution is being couriered.

I felt a similar relief when I decided not to run the Edmonton half-marathon this year. I mean… I still, might. Nothing’s final until it’s final. But I have resolved to be okay with not running it, because I am prioritizing a more well-rounded fitness regimen.

In other words, I am not training for that specific event.
I am working more towards a tri-sport centric physical goal, and I do not want a finish-line to be a part of the process. I aim to train right into the fall months with a mix of running, biking, and lifting weights, and ading in some swim time when possible (i.e. when I don’t have a fresh tattoo in the healing process, as submerging fresh tattoos is a real good way to get infected). Through next winter, there will also be brick-sessions, which are a segment of cycling followed by a segment of running.

I’ve achieved a lot since I started this journey, and this blog for that matter – and although I ran the half-marathon in 2022 in under 2:15, my favorite training program was for the olympic distance triathlon course that I ran on my 40th birthday.

So… back to basics.

progression

I write a lot about progress. I wonder if it’s because on some subconscious level, I’m never where I want to be. I’ve read enough to know that the general consensus among spiritual gurus and self-help authors alike is that “in order to move forward, you must be happy where you are.“

I know. Right away I see the flaw in that line of thinking… “If I am happy where I am, I won’t want to go in any direction, even forward,” except that movement is not an option – it’s mandatory. We are always moving. There is no staying still, because even if you were to stay still, the world would pass you by.

They say you can never step in the same river twice – not only because the water is moving, but because you are always in a state of flux and growth. The only thing we can do is recall memories, and even those are fairly random, and viewed through the lense of someone who’s progressed beyond that moment.

Such is the case with training.

I have shirtless progress photos of myself from 3 years ago, and at the time I was building to something, toning and training and chiseling away at a physique that; now, as I look back, was there the whole time. And as hard as I train, as long as I run, and as heavy as I lift, I can’t go back there because I have to live here, and now.

The reality is that here, and now, I am stronger than that former version of myself that I often envy. My muscles are bigger, my chest is broader, my stamina is better and my determination is stronger, my nutrition is more in-tune – so then why do I continually focus my gaze on the extra fat that my torso and thighs carry when I am so much more advanced in other ways? Why do I focus on the parts I don’t like?

And even while focusing on this singular attribute that I have decided is negative, I know I am happier than before. Beyond what I’ve listed already, my mind is stronger and more determined, my experiences are more vast, my relationships are further along, and the people in my life are older and wiser, too. And as I carry on, so will all of these things… and that little layer of fat will take care of itself in time, because I am diligent, and determined… and there is no finish line, or off-season.

I need to give myself a break.
Just today.
But tomorrow… I go for a long run.

acceleration

I’m back on my training bullshit. Sorry, not sorry.

When everywhere you look, you see people sliding into complacency with their brains and their physical bodies, whipping yourself into shape is an act of rebellion. Endurance sport is punk rock, despite the chosen attire worn by runners. I don’t make the rules.

I let my endurance training slide over the winter in exchange for a more aggressive weightlifting routine and the results are in. I am broader-chested and slightly bigger all around in both the desired ways and the undesired ways. That is to say, I’m cutting now… and I’m cutting hard. I’m currently averaging between 19 & 24 kms per week, 3-4 days per week, and lifting weights twice per week still. I’m also cycling wherever possible, which will include trips to the studio, as well as other mud-laden adventures though the river valley.

Spring came early, so I’m on bonus time and I’m seizing every opportunity.

I got a smart watch last year. A Garmin forerunner, which is great for multisport, and I’m working through a program that adapts to my weekly & monthly progress and sets challenges for me the following week. It monitors heartrate, sleep score, energy expenditures through the day… ultimately it’s the first plausible use for artificial intelligence I’ve actually come across, by way of a digital personal trainer.

My target event, at this point, is the Edmonton Marathon race day. I’ve told it that I’m training for the half marathon, but I haven’t yet told myself that. I suppose I have no reason not to do it other than the fact that races are hard. I’m still mulling that over, I guess.

All that aside, I’ve recently turned a corner in my physique. My body is getting to my desired shape & form, and I’m able to do some pretty amazing things in regards to distance and endurance.

It’s having a positive influence on my writing and composition as a musician and creator as well. I’m consistently writing meaningful and thoughtful pieces of music and poetry that are taking shape as songs that may one day see the light of day. It’s amazing to watch these things come about in front of me.

It’s a real testament to feeding my brain and my body the good stuff they require in order to get the desired result. Good, clean, plant-based foods and thoughtfully written books and songs, balanced with the time required to process and digest all of it. Add sunlight & water.

It’s like taking care of a plant.
I am a plant.
Hopefully I bear fruit.

aging

I turn 43 this year.
Actually, I turn 43 this weekend.
Tomorrow.
Star Wars day.

Ultimately I’m good with it. I’m not in the shape I was in when I turned 40 and ran a triathlon, but I am on an upward swing in that regard. I’d love to spend more time in the pool and round out my tri-sport fantasies once again, but the advent of a fresh tattoo about 6 weeks ago, followed by another tattoo appointment this coming week keeps me on dry land. Submerging fresh tattoos is a good way to get an infection. But… That’s okay. Running and biking are filling my early mornings in the same way creative endeavours seem to fill my evenings.

I’m in the early stages of making another great record with The Confusionaires, I have a busy summer ahead of me with festival performances, long runs, sweaty bike rides, rock & roll recording sessions, and a couple of quick trips out of town with the family if fortune smiles down on us before the snow flies again. Summers are so fuckin’ short here.

When my daughter was born, and I was 26 years old, I recall doing the math and determining that I’d be 44 when she turns 18. That’s still true. It’s true every time I check, and the math gets easier each time… that’s a year from now, but it might as well be now. She’s grown up well, and smart, and strong. She has ambition that surpasses me at that age. I’ve very proud of her. She’ll be 17 this summer (obviously) and although she’s not done turning into the person she’s going to be, I can tell that person is going to be awesome. We got matching tattoos last month – an honour I share with no one else, and one I don’t take lightly.

I’m 43 tomorrow. Where does the time go? Well, I know where my 20s and early 30s went. Kinda. They’re hazy and were largely fuelled by intoxicants. Not sure how I lucked my way into finding my girlfriend. We’ve been together for 14 years or so. Like I said… hazy. She’s great, and has either joined me or guided me on several journeys that led both of us to places we’d never imagined… like veganism. She’s just begun a sabbatical of sorts, as she’s between vocations and has found herself with a month off before starting a new job. Having her around is pretty great. I think I’ll keep her for another 14 years.

I don’t know where this leads.
Wherever it’s supposed to, I guess.
But wherever that is, I hope they allow dogs.

machines

It’s early in the year, to be certain. Too early to be dragging hotrods out of the barn, if you ask me… tempting such fate results in heartbreak, and I’m not about tempt the gods, thereby inviting a freak snowstorm. If that happens, it won’t be my fault.

The old fairlane needs a bath, and some love, as 63-year-old cars typically do. I leaned on that car pretty hard last year, but having a good modern vehicle certainly prolongs the enjoyment of working on my fairlane. Last year was a bit tense… when I worked on that car, it was with purpose – I needed it to get to work. This year will be different, as each drive will be special and calculated. Each upgrade will be purposeful, and calculated. None of the work I’d intended to do over the winter got done. Not a damn thing. That’s okay… these things are forgiving.

Maybe it’s not too early.
No, it is.
In this part of the world, any hotrod adventures before the May Long Weekend is done on borrowed time, and unfortunately for me, that particular long weekend in May is about when my summer festival season shows start to ramp up a bit.

What it’s not too early for, is my mountain bike.
I punished that thing last year, too.
It spent the winter in a state of functional disrepair. Rideable, but in need of parts. This is the time to sort my bike out, because once the pavement gets hot enough that you can smell it, the fairlane is going to usurp my time in the most beautiful way.

This is what I do when I’m not running or writing or rock & rolling.
Machines.
My bike. My car.

Also the dishwasher.