Blast From the Past - Photos near Yellowstone

On Lying

While I agree that lying is an assumed characteristic of American culture, not everyone is on the bandwagon.   As an honest person, I don't say "nice shoes" or "great sweater" when I don't genuinely mean it, I remain silent on the item.  And I always qualify that I'm from north of Boston, a suburb of Boston or the Boston area, when asked about my roots, having grown up 15 miles north of the city. When I don't share details of my private life it's not lying by omission.  It's more of a "none of your business" approach, but I don't build some fake persona to fill in the gaps, I let them make their own assumptions.

If a person says they love a restaurant, or ask me if I'd recommend one which I found so awful I will never step foot in the place again, I would never say "great choice."  I may say "it's not one of my favorites," or "really? I'm not that crazy about it."  I probably won't launch into how horrendous the service is, but I won't give it a thumbs up.

While I don't profess to always being able to spot a lie, I do find when you ask a point blank question, while giving the person direct eye contact, those first two seconds before they open their mouth will usually tell you what you need to know.  When you meet a person you immediately don't trust, chances are they lie habitually.  And the disingenuous compliment handed to you by the person wearing a fake smile tastes like the insult it's meant to be.

When raising my three kids I told them I would never lie to them.  I may say, and sometimes did, "I'm not going to tell you that," but no lies.  Consequently they trust me, always, to tell them the truth.

Clearly our culture supports lying, but there is a solid minority of honest people who co-exist in that culture. Those of us who are honest enjoy a great advantage over the hordes of liars in our daily comings and goings.

California Dreamin'

I have a thing for California men...

NIRVANA

Seeing Joan Jett sing with the band screams the obvious. The ultimate path to honor Kurt's memory, and breath new life into music we all thought was tucked away in a closed chapter of our past, is for the band to embark on a limited tour with Courtney doing the honors. For all of her faults, surely there's no more appropriate voice to sing his words. Love her or hate her, she's earned that much at least. Old wounds and past battles will likely block that road I'm afraid. But talk about the ghost in the room, that's a monumental show I'd make considerable effort to attend.

Vaccination Hysteria

I have visions of Pro-Vaxxers rallying that each child, from the ripe old age of a few weeks old and on into adulthood (and beyond?) be strapped to a gurney and forcibly vaccinated, parents wishes be damned.  Maybe the anti-vaxxers are really hated because they refuse to go with the flow like lemmings over a pharmaceutically induced cliff.  Anything that puts billions in the pockets of pharmaceutical giants, anti-depressents are a good example (Read Cracked for a great discourse on just how this happens) should be looked upon with a skeptical gaze.  Follow the money.

There are and have been serious consequences for some children vaccinated and not due necessarily to any previous or current impurities, just your run of the mill drug reactions.  You can look on the CDC's own website to see the many chronicled cases of death after an immunization reaction.  To blindly make this into a black and white, you're wrong, I'm right issue is less useful than taking a more nuanced approach.  And to all the Pro-Vaxxers who scream outrage about the "public good," just be sure your kids are vaccinated and they'll have nothing to fear from the renegade masses of the non-comformists.

On Writing

Almost six months to the day after I shipped off my 80,000 word rough memoir manuscript to the lively engaging woman, an agent in the Bay area whom I'd met at the Flathead Writer's Conference, I received a reply. Comfortable in the fact that my draft would not be a project she would be taking on, after perusing the company's published works on their web site, I nonetheless felt gratified to at least hear back from her. Not to mention the fact that a real live agent, the first I'd ever met, actually requested the whole thing and then read it. I presume she read it, but hey, you never know. I do know she read my first 15 pages at least, which we discussed during our 15 minute one on one at the conference.

She encouraged me however, which was refreshing. She inquired for an update on my status with the main man in my storyline, (I'm still in contact with him) and if I'd been keeping up my usual shenanigans (I have) detailed in my book. I shipped off a brief response, and she suggested I find a structural editor, both a good and bad sign. She thought the work was worth saving and completing, and it badly needs major work. Not news of course. I have already started to cut with savage swipes to reduce and remove the peripheral crap I'd been holding on to.

It's not unlike a mass of film footage, a rough pile of loosely connected shit which must be skillfully woven into an actual, flowing, coherent, entertaining and well paced movie, or in my case, a quick, fun read. I shall power on. I did relay to her that without the blessing of my main man, chances are the work will remain under wraps. And shipping the 80,000 words off for him to read seems unlikely, at best.

PORTLAND

I hadn't been for many, many years, since 1996 when the kids and I did our west coast triangle tour during spring break and saw on the news from a Motel 6 in Coeur d'Alene that the Unibomber had been arrested just a few short miles from our town, Helena, which was now filled with satellite wielding trucks transmitting the global news.  My oldest daughter ran into David Bloom, who was camped out in our town for the mayhem, in the check out lane at our local Hastings.

It would be many years later during his assignment abroad embedded with US troops in Iraq in 2003 when he would be stricken suddenly by an embolism and die at a young 40.  I clearly remember worrying about him when seeing his frequent war front reports on NBC nightly news thinking to myself, bring him home and get him out of there.  When Tom Brokaw announced at the top of the broadcast that night saying one of our own has died, I knew instinctively it was David Bloom and was greatly saddened.

West Coast Romp November 2013

New Pearl Jam

Enjoying my virginal perusing of the new Pearl Jam release, Lightning Bolt, through a free stream on iTunes.  Familiarity will be required for my two shows next month in LA and Oakland. Though it's been just over a year since the Jon Tester Missoula show, I'm raring to go to see them again.  Taking the double city show opportunity to drive up the California Highway 1 coastal route, which has always been on my fuck yeah! list.  Haven't worked out all the logistics yet, but a plan will be forthcoming after I return from the next trip in 10 days to LA for another Hollywood Bowl show, Thom Yorke and Flea's amalgamation of Atoms for Peace.  Finally I'll get to see the autistic artist in the flesh.  The many shows I've listened to online tell me he is a class act and will be worth the long wait I've had.

Swan Valley

Coming back from the Flathead Writer's Conference September 29, 2013.  Now I have to start on editing my memoir in ernest.  No more screwing around.  Learning how much you don't know could be discouraging, and it's certainly daunting, but I will power on.  My favorite quote from the conference is from Nora Roberts: "you can fix a bad page, you can't fix a blank one." 

Butte Folk Festival 2013

The Girl was amazing.

San Francisco March 2013