Tag: vegan athlete

keep pushing

The last little while has been a veritable firehose of creativity coming at me, or through me, or however it comes out. I feel like I am part antenna, plucking poetic metaphors from the sky, while simultaneously spitting out verse and peeling off chord patterns and riffs like they’re going to rot if I don’t get them contained.

It’s both inspiring and perplexing.

When records are made, there’s often a feeling of dread and doubt looming beneath the skin, perpetually asking questions like “what if this isn’t good enough?” and “what if you never make another record?” and I know this to be true because I’ve heard other songsmiths say it out loud, but the past few records I’ve made haven’t been like that at all. I know for a fact that I’ll make more and I have a dozen professional releases behind me to illustrate how that happens, but lately I’ve been feeling like the recording(s) that my band is about to start work on are actually really important.

There’s nothing “right now” about these songs, as far as subject matter. On the contrary, I find that records tend to be a marker in time – sort of a “this is what it was like that year” rather than something that affixes itself to a time & place and becomes irrelevant with the changing times. (By that token, if you want to know what my life felt like in 2010-2012 was like, take a listen to the Fuzz Kings releases that came out in 2013 & 2014. If you want them on vinyl, I’ll be happy to furnish you with them.)

Anyway, I have no idea what ‘really important’ even means. Will it propel me forward as an artist? I certainly hope so… I can’t imagine it not doing so, really. Will it top charts? influence media? challenge the status quo? I am certain that I have no idea. “Important” doesn’t always mean successful, and nothing is guaranteed in this life and in this industry. And I know as well as anyone that sometimes people don’t find your record until it’s 10 years old… maybe older.

I don’t think it’s happenstance that I’m posting this as I encroach on 2 years clean & sober. October 22nd, 2019 I had my last drink (in excellent company, mind you). A couple weeks prior to that I was pulling over on Highway 2 to throw up into the ditch multiple times on my way back from a music conference. I’m not here to tell anyone to drink or not drink, but I can tell you that in my case, it’s resulted in being much more present in my performances, much more present in my songwriting, and much more present in my interactions with people. It’s interesting that it’s also the anniversary of this blog, and the anniversary of the day I moved into my house… all happening in different years, and unintentionally.

What I do know is that this is what I am supposed to be doing right now, and this is the frame of mind I am supposed to be in. We can talk about destiny, or the illusion of free will if you like, but all I know is that it feels really good to be right where I am supposed to be.

I cant wait to share my art with you.

thanks a lot

This weekend is Canadian Thanksgiving, a holiday that is a mixed bag of emotion for most people, particularly Indigenous folks. I won’t speak to that in great detail other than to say that I acknowledge their grievances against the Europeans that horned in on this land several hundred years ago, though I am grateful to be here, personally.

It’s also a hard time for families, and as someone who has chosen not to maintain contact with a sibling, I understand that from some people’s perspective I am part of the problem. I don’t hold it against anyone if they’re upset with me, and I hope they realize that my job as a parent and the head of my own household, is to stop the bullshit at my front door, and provide a safe environment to grow and rest. I’ve done that, and will continue to do so.

Maybe you get it.

Maybe you don’t get it – Maybe you are the ostracized one, frustrated with your family’s lack of empathy, or sympathy. Chances are pretty good that if you’re reading this, you’re ultimately doing okay, since accessing blogs takes a certain amount of privilege. Maybe you’ve had Thanksgiving dinner at the Herb Jamieson before, or perhaps you’re looking forward to a Big Mac Combo in a parking lot by yourself on this festive weekend.

I’ve done both. I promise you, it’s a temporary vocation.

One thing I can tell you is that I’m grateful for the shit-heeled experiences I’ve had – many of which I caused, some of which were done to me. I’ve been extended some of the greatest and most meaningful hospitality when my life was scraping the bottom.

I’m also grateful that I can provide this home to the people in it, and the people who visit it. I remember what it’s like to not have these things available to me. So, to the people who’ve reached out to me when I needed it more than they possibly could have known, I sincerely hope you are repaid 10x over.

And to those who I can help, I hope I do it justice.
I hope I don’t miss the opportunity.

… PS: If you can have thanksgiving without harming any animals out of some misplaced sense of tradition, or due to a social contract, please do.

grown up

I’ve spent a lot of my life in the bottom half – and if you know what that means, then you have likely spent a little time there. Maybe you’re there right now. I’ve always been ‘okay’ in the sense that I’ve been able to keep a roof over our heads… but I’ve kinda always needed a little help.

Needing a little help comes with the territory of historically broke-ass musicians. We tend to live a little closer to the wire than most people are comfortable with, primarily in sacrifice to our art. This is especially prevalent with the big stuff… like purchasing a vehicle.

I’ve made mention of some vehicular obstacles over the past few months, and they are persisting – but the realization that we’ve been making due with a vehicle that – love it as I may – is not particularly well-suited to our needs. It’s a small pickup truck that’s not a comfortable ride when you need to put a 3rd adult-sized person in there, and after 16 years of parenting, there are 3 adult sized people in my house… as well as a 145 lb dog. I also play in a rock & roll band, and have need to move equipment pretty frequently these days… so it’s all added up to a vehicle purchase. We’d intended to address this in early 2020 after The Confusionaires second album was released… but a lil’ pandemic came along.

All that to say… the time has come.

So when it came time to do this deal, it was kinda freaky to be able to do it on my own… like a grown up. I suppose I became a grown up a few years ago when we bought our house without any help from our folks, but it has sunk in even more so now. I now own a vehicle capable of doing everything I need a vehicle to do.

I wondered how it would feel. Sometimes with these things, after all is said & done you just feel dread – but really I feel a sense of freedom despite the impending payments that must be made. I’ve doubled down, and bet on myself and on my music in the process of doing this and I’m ultimately setting myself up for success.

Who would’ve thought…?

witnessing growth

So I don’t talk about it much without being intentionally vague… BUT… I have this kid, and in her 16 years on this planet – an occasion celebrated somewhat recently – she’s done all kinds of growing up and maturing. She’s done things or the smart variety and of the dumb variety and has learned from both. Her unique worldview is something that both inspires me and causes me to stop and think, and she’s masterfully funny – the kind of funny that people are when they’ve had real life experience.

Not only has she already accomplished things I may never accomplish, and lived experiences I may never live, but she has dreams and aspirations of being something important and moving away from her hometown to see what the world has to offer her and although I’m in now hurry to shoo her out the door, I am genuinely stoked.

In the grand scheme of things, although she’s several years away form completely cutting off her dependence on me and her mother, she’s mere inches from (legal) adulthood. Other parents I talk to seem to be genuinely worried about this time for their kids – and while in a financial sense I wonder how she’s going to do what needs to get done with late-stage capitalism casting a dark shadow on all of us, I am; again, genuinely stoked.

Her small army of parents have taught her how to think analytically, and aside from the tangible actions of parenting: scraped knees, dental appointments, food & shelter, et al. – that’s the gig. Nobody’s throwing us a parade, and I know the job is far from over but while I talk to so many parents who are worried about their children growing up, all the while, longing for the bygone days of excited christmas mornings and saturday morning cartoons, I have to say I loved those days, but I don’t really miss them… because looking at the road ahead, I am; again, genuinely stoked.

I loved having a little girl at every phase of life, and as this father/daughter relationship continues to grow, I can say I love this phase that we’re in right now more and more all the time.

I am: again, genuinely stoked.

parting

A couple weeks back I vague-posted about someone in my family making a lifestyle change. It’s still underway, and although I realize the help I offered and delivered on was sweeping an aggressive, it was only the beginning… and as much as I’d love to get into detail about the situation, it’s not prudent at this time, so forgive me if I keep it somewhat vague.

I will say that it involved a family-sourced ‘cleaning day’ and the rental of a very large garbage bin, and what I didn’t really realize until the 11th hour is that the majority of what was going into that garbage bin ‘belonged’ to a different family member, who despite knowing all about this cleaning day, was unavailable.

I understand now that my true act of service that I was performing, was being the scapegoat for everything that WE did that day. In spite of the fact that we kept everything of value, and only threw away (actual) garbage, I have brought down hellfire upon myself, and have been accused of all kinds of heinous things, none of which are true – and have even been formally threatened.

Now, I didn’t feel threatened, so I don’t believe I’m in any real danger, nor do I think that the person who uttered the (actual) threat has the means to do anything retaliatory, but a threat was uttered and that’s an actual crime, as opposed to what I’ve done – which is not a crime.

I’ve put a lot of work into myself, and I do a lot to let myself off the hook for things I can’t control, and stay out of situations that don’t concern me directly, so it’s been a bit jarring to realize that this situation does concern me directly and that as much as I want to assume the lotus position and breathe through this – I also have a duty to my household and my family to protect them and provide an example of how to behave in these uncommon situations.

So, I wrote a letter.
It took me three days to write it and calm myself.
Three days to remove myself from the situation, breathe, vent, breathe some more… I ran 22 kms and rode my bike 18 kms… and when I finally got to a point where I’d sweated out my last bit of discomfort with this whole situation, I still felt like the letter needed to be sent.
And I sent it.

It was devoid of any personal insults toward my family member, but it did outline why and how the original event needed to happen, and listed some very serious concerns for this person’s well-being regarding who the very destructive partner they’re with and the lifestyle they’re adopting… and ultimately – and this has been a point of contention – my resistance to apologizing for doing what I did, because in my heart I know that I was asked to do this out of desperation and I know for a fact that if I could go back in time and change the way this was handled, I would do it exactly the same way.

Then I hit the ‘block’ button, as I truly believe I said what was important.

So it’s been really fucking hard, but I’ve removed a family member from my life.

And for the last 3 days since that’s happened… I’ve been completely drained.

discomfort

I don’t know if it’s been a particularly trying time, or if it’s been business as usual and I’m dwelling on things that need not have that level of attention. As I take a step back, it’s business as usual, but what’s unique to this time is the vehicular challenges I’ve been facing.

My faithful Ford Ranger (read: capital R, lower-case ‘anger’) pickup truck died on me a few weeks ago, and through some combination of stubborness and mental and emotional fortitude, I have still not sought the help of any professionals in this field. It’s a problem I want to solve on my own, and I have the skills to do it, but what I lack is the time… so as my neighbors quietly judge me (maybe), I continue to try things, test things, replace things, and audibly swear. For those who care, there’s no spark, and I’m close to having tested and/or replaced the entire ignition system, so I must be close.

The insult that’s been added to that injury is that someone thought it might be a good idea to drill a hole in my gas tank and steal the ingredients. They likely made off with about $20 of my full tank, allowing an additional $75 worth to drain into a nearby manhole, and if my impending gas tank patch job doesn’t work, a $1000 part to order and install. I’d rather they’d have taken my catalytic converter, as is the Edmonton tradition. That’s a problem I can solve on my own.

So in the meantime, I’ve been driving my 1962 Ford Fairlane 500. An absolute gem of a car that I love dearly, but it is a project car, and it’s age is showing in some regards so I’d rather not be leaning on it as hard as I have been lately. It’s my love for that car that has taken time away from fixing my truck.

The icing on the cake is that my mountain bike also needs parts… it’s functional, and a lot of fun to ride, so not really a concern… but still, literally every vehicle I own is in a state of disrepair.

The lesson here is probably patience. Most lessons tend to have patience as; at very least, and undertone. Really, I’m finding that I am too busy and my life is too full to really take the time required to solve required problems. This is something I aim to remedy. My girlfriend and I are making a conscious effort to stop & smell the roses, and really enjoy the summer while it’s here. I’ve certainly earned a lovely tan while running in the early morning sun and working on my old-ass house, my old-ass car, and my truck that is getting older & older-ass as we go, here.

At any rate, if all goes well, I’ll be driving my choice of selections from this small fleet of vehicles by the time this blog entry gets posted. In the midst of it all, I still managed to write an absolute banger of a honky-tonk rock & roll song called ‘one problem at a time‘ which maybe you’ll get to hear sometime next year.

Until next time…

service and change

I; or rather, we, have recently been invited to help a family member take on a rather lofty challenge. A change in lifestyle, if I may be so vague – and as someone who has undergone a few changes in lifestyle over the years I can say with great certainty that there is always a blast-radius, and that there are ALWAYS people in the blast-radius.

Those people are often bewildered at the notion that someone might want to improve their situation and they almost always take it personally. This is because change is happening to them, even though it’s peripherally, they really don’t have a choice in the matter any more than the drinking buddies of an alcoholic in recovery would have a say in his or her recovery – though their social dynamic is changing.

These folks in the blast-radius are; in my experience, almost always operating at a lower vibration. Without putting too fine a point on it, they are the crabs in the bucket who are trying to pull someone down in order to keep that person at their level. I’ve been at the lower level, and I know what it looks and feels like. I even tried to pull people down, until one day I decided to escape the bucket myself.

So… I; or rather, we, have been called to service – and you’d be hard-pressed to find an ideology that doesn’t support the notion of helping when called.
And… straight-up: helping suuuucks. It’s ultimately thankless, hard work on the part of all supporters, with none of the glory or accolades when it goes well… so if that’s why anyone’s helping, they’re more than likely standing in the way of progress, whether they’re cheerleading or not.

This situation is no different. There are bewildered people in the blast-radius of this scene, and as hurt as they might be, I have to declare aloud that my act of service is not to them. Furthermore, I cannot take on their hurt feelings as my own. Those feelings are theirs to reckon with… and if I sugar-coat things for them, or try and soften the blow, then I do a disservice to the person who’s actually asked for help. As the old non-vegan 😦 saying goes… “If you want to make an omelet, you’ve got to crack a couple eggs.”

Did I mention this suuuucks?

Without divulging too much, I’ll also state that the folks in the blast-radius have been taking advantage of the person who’s asked for help – and I’m related to all of these people – BUT, that doesn’t change the dynamic.

You might get asked for help.
People on the periphery might get upset about it.
You cannot let them distract your from your purpose – which; in that moment, is to fulfil an act of service.

For me; or rather, us, it’s a scene that will play out over a long period of time, so I expect I’ll get more than one blog post out of it, too.