Via my pal Trevor: Old and grainy. Fell out of a plant identification book my son was looking at. The non-bearded is now bearded, and the bearded is now non-bearded due to the Viking red having changed to a different colour. And check out the depths of the poet’s eyes. Ever present, observant and turning every moment into a story
Me: problem with the eyes is no off switch, always gathering and collecting and then one day, you have a massive archive of creations to share
Making and finishing and doing *so much* so can’t stay up with sharing… limiting screentime and can’t pause to organize… but so much things (along with baby) coming… you can always catch stuff which doesn’t make it to this channel (and/or sequestered by the machines) at “creative life archive” (note: you are here).
Note: This snap is me at Lafcadio Hearn’s writing desk (international writer who came to Japan and settled in deep countryside… Married a Japanese lady and took Japanese name, wrote in Japanese, had bad eyes so made this desk to help).
Dude is remarkably interesting. Ergo: when the most/only foreigners in Japan were missionaries, diplomats, traders all trying to change Japan, he showed and let Japan change him. His home in Matsue (home of the holy Izumo Taisha) is near (relatively) to where i was first at the mushroom farm (same San-in coast). Ryoko and I visited his house and museum summer of 2018 on our first adventure together.
PS i saw his white linen suit, battered leather suitcase, hat, cane, pipe and glasses and realized that “yes, I might be him reincarnated”
Related, from Trevor:
Down the hall Logan house Mom’s bedroom was on the left Morning routine sit on bedside and check-in At the end of the hall was the computer Window behind Dave sat keying in his word flow Friend watched Inspired
Levon Helm’s autobio “This Wheel’s on Fire” sizzles.
I especially like this part:
“First I went to Mexico and lived on the beach until I’d spent all my money. Then I met up with Kirby Pennick, a musician friend from Arkansas, and together we discovered that Florida was a bad place to be broke. We were just bumming around. We got the paper, and there was a drive-away Lincoln going from Florida to New Orleans. We just said, “Let’s go.”
I especially like the above since there is a very similar trip/experience in my dossier… But arriving broke in Florida right after hurricane Andrew on a cheap flight from London after bumming around Europe (grapes, chestnuts, bad yodellers band, Gwar, Oktoberfest etc) > Getting a driveway car from dodgy goodfellas in Miami (after food at Hare Krishnas) splitting across dark sketchy Alligator Alley through bright morning New Orleans > to beers-in-car Texas, with several police pull overs along the way. Yikes.
Oddly foosball in Austin with good ole boys met in Vegas between Dead shows, a 9-11 disturbance, canyon hotspring flings, and a medieval wedding > anyhow and almost met our/my demise dropping the car off in Dallas to a large angry man who expected something very important and illegal in the trunk.￼ Trevor Erikson and i found ourselves very out of place but adjusted rapidly and took control, even recouping deposit (in cash, not cheque) and a lift downtown.
Somehow finagled a Greyhound 2 for 1 ticket to from an even more angry tweaker who chased the bus like a rapid dachshund. Ate well in SLC on a dodgy credit card, zoom zoom ended up at Marble Arch then Tottori. This was 1993 i think or 92.
No photo evidence exists. Oh yeah: Dig Levon’s tome #theband
How to pack a large amount of non-ordinary lifestyle into a small amount of time, without a lot of money – or none really. True definition of adventure perhaps? Will love you forever brother Dave. Such memories create interesting and long lasting pathways within the soul. And, yes, it was 1992.
My ole pal Dr. Trevor “Trauben” Erikson shared a few musings about healing and kindness on his channel the other day. I am significantly moved by his reflections about my erstwhile wisdom and stashing this Thanks Trauben. Thanks so very much. ‘
Was thanked by an aging grandmother yesterday. She looked me in the eyes, hugged me and said she was grateful to me.
I was reminded of a friend’s advice to me, that somehow stands vivid amongst the fog of my adventurist past, travelling the globe in search of the better present moment.
It was either during a hike on some wilderness trail, or while dancing to some groovy tunes in the desert, or sunning on a sandy sub-tropical beach, or during a transatlantic flight from Europe, or perhaps a coffee shop in Amerstadam, or in our tent in the grape fields along the Rhine in Germany, it was certainly much before I knew it being HH the Dali Lama’s declared religion. Now this was probably gleaned from a Grateful dead lyric, I would think, although I knew my friend’s mom was definitely a walking example of this, which would have predated any travelling rock band’s lyric from entering into his head.
Anyways, it was 1992-ish, and Dave Olson looked over at me, in the lovingly charming way that he does, and said, simply, and matter-of-factly, ‘Always be kind’.
Of course. How simple. How profound.
I was reminded of this powerful declaration when this grandmother lovingly embraced me and said thank you.
This mantra is the distillation of all i’ve learned from watching others and living full-on. Realized young that to survive and thrive one must.should build community. To build community requires kindness beyond your own needs.
In the past years since my life has changed so much (due to illness) i realize again that if i hadn’t been kind (including always taking high road, always helping the young-up-and-comers with advice over coffee despite the eyerolls from other “bigtimers” who encouraged me to charge consulting hours, the showing up to help, the checking the ego, and avoiding arguments even my my fuse has run out, i would be a very lonely fella. As it goes, i’ve found help, solace and assistance when needed often from people i only foggily recall meeting but (apparently) i was kind to and provide encouragement and support. This theme of kindness is a constant in my poetry (even when my heart and body is broken) and never fails.
Also worth noting the importance of kindness when we dropped off a car to an (very large, very aggressive, very angry man) in Dallas, Texas. Obviously two impossibly skinny long hair kids couldn’t defeat with violence if we tried (!) nor would arguing get any far. So we were kind and expressed empathy about his situation (as absurd and illegal as it was!) and ended up going from almost beaten to a pulp to out hard won deposit returned – by cash, not cheque – and a ride to the dodgy Greyhound station (a whole other mess…).
Also, thanks for scrapping me off the ground as i’ve worked to patch my life back together Trauben.
A fully emblazoned and decorated campfire blanket makes any event funner! Fortunately mine was preserved by my dear mother in a box likely labelled “Campfire Blanket, Dave” waiting for a chance to rock it out, at this time at a Teagan and Sarah concert at Deerlake park with Trevor Erikson (who i assume took the snap). I figured when I met the lasses (which of course I did, but at another time) they would swoon at my majestic cape.
Oh a “campfire blanket” in this instance is a tradition in some scouting programs where you sew all your cloth badges/patches/accolades/ephemera onto a blanket to ostensibly wear on “ceremonial” occasions, ’round the fire.
Best thanks to the assortment of Global Free Radicals who contributed music via video for Creepers and Chums. This playlist contains all of them with the addition of “pre-roll” and “post-roll” artifacts collected from various place, simply to amuse and surprise without context.
Kindly consider reaching-out/following/fan-ing/liking any of the bands you particularly enjoyed via social channels of your choosing. They are all part of your life narrative too as they participated in this memorial for our departed loved ones. Continue reading Creepers and Chums: global musicians→