Road Stories - Part 2 After a pretty low-key evening, the night was about to be set to
'whirlwind' status and I didn't even know it. I had spent the
bulk of the day enjoying free wireless access in a hotel and
sipping on a few 2 dollar cans from the LCBO (I also ordered
Topper's Pizza for dinner as I had remembered it being
decent from the days of Laurentian - it still was pretty
dang good). The time had come to meet the band in the
lobby. I met the drummer, the bassist and the tour manager
down there (Steve, Brent and Ian). They were talking about
Brent's intestinal/gas issues as Steve asked him 'How is your
ass?'. Brent didn't say much. 'Better, I guess.' Ian played with
his iphone as they waited for the other dudes to come down.
The lobby of the hotel was pretty small and I remember
thinking 'How would they handle a massive group in here, like
a soccer team or something' as the hotel, itself, was a fairly
big. Soon, the rest of the band showed up (Murray, Chris
and Dave) and we piled in the van and headed to the venue.
First off, I remember thinking 'these guys are loud' as they
would either try and grab, fart on or yell in each other's ears.
It was dark out and Sudbury looked a lot different at night -
much more bleak. When we pulled up to the venue (the grand
theatre - an old cinema-style theatre with a bulbed vertical
marquee sign out front), Ian noted 'I'll run inside and find
another door for you guys to come in' so I slid down a side
street and all of us waited for Ian to appear out the side of
the building.
A few minutes passed and the guys starting getting antsy.
I asked the other guys 'Where do you think Ian went'. Steve
the drummer chimed in 'Oh, he's probably just inside the
venue - pushing his way through our fat demographic'. This
made many of the guys chuckle, including me. Tension was
broken. Finally, Ian's curly head popped out of a side door
as he looked all over in every direction except where we
were. The band members hopped out of the van remarking
that he was a 'reet' (retard) and headed in.
I parked the van and since I really had no other plans dans
le Sudbury on a terrible tuesday night, I went to the show.
I couldn't believe how many people were there on a tuesday
night. Almost a thousand. It was a sold out show sponsored
by local radio. I ordered a beer at the bar and slid among
actually had a very decent voice (and turned out to be quite
the joker).
Doc Walker took the stage and the place went into a fit
of pandemonium. Girls were grabbing their faces like in
old Beatles videos. It was nuts. Later on that night, I
learned that John (a guy who was playing guitar with Tara
Oram) was on the side of the stage where the crowd
couldn't see him and had stripped down completely naked
and was flossing his buttcrack with his own belt. Tara
also got in on the action (and apparently got partially
naked) as this was a game the two bands had played with
each other all tour to try and get reactions from each
other.
After the show, there was a little rigamarole from the
local radio station that was sponsoring the event (KICX)
and some presentations to different band-members.
I hung out backstage with Steve (the drummer) and
chatted briefly as the band had a few cases of free beer
behind the stage area.
I wandered around and couldn't believe how much room
was actually backstage. After what seemed to take forever,
the band finally got their gear out to the van (which
wasn't much considering everything was back-lined), we
hit the hotel for an apparent 'post-show-wrap' that I
was invited to. Back at the hotel, I barely got to my room
as a few musicians from other bands (Tara's and
another guy named Steve Lee Olsen) saw me in the
hallway and yelled out 'PARTYYYY! WOOOO' and I
waved geekily. The post-show-wrap was being held in
the hotel bar. I headed down and saw all of the bands
and a few record executives at a long table. As funny as
it was, I felt a weird connection with the Doc Walker
guys and got a huge, loud, drunken 'HEEEEEEYYYY'
when they saw me - I felt like Norm from cheers walking
in. The bar was very low-lit and very low-ceiling-ed.
I talked with a bunch of the band members and a few
executives (who all had a massive amount of free drinks
on their long table) as they bought me a beer. I quickly
learned that the label that Doc Walker is on (Open
Road) is involved with distributing Taylor Swift's music
in Canada. Ridiculous! I couldn't believe that I had never
heard of them before this trip. As the evening progressed,
I found myself sitting at different seats and talking with
many different folks at the 'wrap'. Oddly enough, the
bar supplied tables with popcorn. Popcorn at a bar.
Weird!
Anyways, most the night was kinda blurry (not due to
drinking) and it passed by quick. A guy named Ron (who
apparently runs Open Road records) and another guy
who runs the KICX radio station kept the drinks flowin'
for the guys. It was a steady stream of comp beverages
for all to slurp. A few odd creature-like ladies were
stalking the band from the bar area and nothing really
materialized there. A few highlights from the rest of
the night were:
-Steve the drummer (who is a hilarious man) convinced
me 100% that he is Hugh Dillon's brother
-John (the Tara Oram guitarist) convinced me he was
born in 1971 when in reality he is 26.
-Brianne (who works for the label) told me that she
helped get a song from the label on CSI or some big
tv show
-Some random girl from the radio station asked me
if had known the band for years because we all seemed
so tight (I had known them for 6 hours)
I hit the sack in the crusty hotel sheets...and realized...
I liked this.
All of it.
It was good.
More to come.
Barely
Well - the Cowboys snuck a fast one past the ailing Redskins
by the skin of their teeth. What is happening with this team?
Ever since their first game of the season performance,
they have gone WAY downhill offensively and their defense
has become very swiss-cheese-esque. How will the season
end up?
Speaking of season, the weather has really turned itself
into a downright, mean and dirty tailspin of cold and drab.
I'm pretty sure about 8 people in Ontario went outside today.
Bring it on.
Puff The Magic Nugget Funny that if this band were to tour today, they would probably
make a killing.
Is anyone ever truly 'in their time'?
She sang rock and roll with the devil Last night, it was a pleasure and a rock refreshment to see a master
at work. Matt Mays has re-invented himself with a new band and
the results were brilliant. Hashing out some old tunes (including
'City Of Lakes' from the first self-title album), Mister Mays was
in fine form. I'll be writing a full review
here in a few days.
The weeks seem to speed by as the winter comes on. The weather
in Port Hope is definitely a tad balmier than the Ottawa realms
but that's all part of the deal of Southwestern Ontario. Lake
effect. You know. Blah blah blah. Some days I feel like I get
nothing done working from home and other days, I'm on the
computer from 9 am til 2:30 am. It's weird.
Right now, I'm re-listening to 'When The Angels Make Contact'
while drinking coffee with Sarah. It's a good day (but not for
Sarah).
Kismet With the Christmas season approaching, I find myself a bigger
and bigger sucker for sentimental nostalgic type crap.
Take this morning for example. Sarah and I were out of coffee
and so seeing that Tim's is the only close option, I peeled over
to the drive thru (very enviro-friendly, I know) and ordered
two large double doubles - and wouldn't ya know it, they were
served in their new blue-ish holiday cups. I instantly felt
warm inside.
What is wrong with me?
I also find that this time o' year makes me want to watch the
following movies:
-Christmas Vacation
-Serendipity
-The Ref
-Home Alone
-The Family Stone
I have some work ahead of me.
REO Speedwagon and how the west was won And I can't fight this feeling anymore.
I remember when my brother first got an REO Speedwagon cassette.
My cool Aunt Ruth who had a funky apartment in Ottawa gave it
to Adam to borrow. At that time, Ruth was dating a guy named 'Yon'.
Yon was sort of a hipster and had longer hair. We once went to their
apartment and had a barbeque out back of the apartment, on a
rickety steel fire escape. The bbq was one of those tiny, round
charcoal units.
Ruth was always into rock music - much to her mother's (my
grandmother's) dismay. After Adam borrowed the tape, he had
to spend a night or two (for whatever reason) at my grandma's
house on Linden Terrace. Adam was staying in the orange flowered
wallpaper spare room with the little white wind-up clock. As he
left his things in the room, Grandma came by the room later and
found the Speedwagon tape in his duffle bag. It had a picture of
a bare-leg-exposed lady on the cover in white lights. I believe
my grandma asked Adam why he listened to music with pictures
of harlots on the cover, or something like that. Adam cried.
*The above story was somewhat fictionalized for comedic value.
Road Stories - Part 1 As promised, I wanted to dialogue the tour with Doc Walker
in a little more detail so that everyone reading could feel a
bit of a connection with the stories of the road. A friend
recently wrote to me in an email 'I want more road stories,
Matty - lay them out on the blog. That's where the mystique
is - That's where the vision is - on the road and on the stage.'
The highway leading from Toronto to Sudbury (the 400 which
becomes 69) stretched out like a black ribbon with white dots
down the centre. The actual highway heads true north for
about 100 and some km's in the middle making it deadly for
wind conditions. I had to keep two hands on the steering
wheel of the big tan van I was driving. Without any music on
this trip (except for a few flicks of bad northern top 40
radio stations), I held true to the course; Sudbury.
As I pulled into the town, my memory bank was flooded with
emotions of wonder, amazement and a little bit of anxiety.
It's hard to believe I spent a full year in that city when I was
19. As hwy 69 turns into Regent St and takes you right into
the downtown hub, you feel like you're entering a town
that is stuck in the 90's (oddly enough, the 90's is when I
was last there - 96 to be precise). After speaking with the
friendly tour manager (who told me to leisurely check in
to the hotel and then head over to the venue 'whenever'),
I pulled off Paris St. into a part of the town that I somewhat
remember - the crags. Train tracks run underneath Paris
but it's hard to believe that trains operate on it because
the look of it is very dirty and decrepit. Burned out railroad
cars sit abandoned. A salvation army depot fronts on to the
tracks and houses many who look like they have seen
better days. Toothless laughter. Cigarette stained fingers.
Young girls up to no good.
I checked into the hotel in decent spirits and went up to
the counter of the quality inn. 'Uh hi - I'm just checking in.
There should be a block of rooms for a band - they're called...
oh man...' And just like that, I completely blanked on the
name of the band. The girl behind the counter was friendly
enough to figure out who I was referring to: 'I have a room
here under DW Driver? Would that be you?' I remembered.
'YES! Doc Walker. That's what they're called'. I shook my
head. The girl looked straight back at me a little excited:
'Ooooh! Doc Walker is the band, eh? That's cool!' I guess
she had heard of them. She got me to sign a form saying I
wouldn't destroy the room and gave me my key.
The elevator to the upstairs rooms seemed a little burnt and
most of the floor number lights did not illuminate. There
were only 4 floors. I headed to room 308 and crashed.
More to come.
"I want more road stories
matty lay them out on
the blog. That's where
the mystique is. That's
were the vision is. On
the road on the stage."
The Kecker's Mid-Season Predictions Tally
So how close am I? A while back, I picked a bunch of teams and
said they would do well. Here were my original calls on Sept.
27th:
My picks for the year in terms of teams to watch:
Vikings (obviously - Favre + Adrian Peterson = playoffs)
Cardinals (I know they sucked last night but Warner is the magic
man)
Bengals (yes - the freaking Bengals. Carson Palmer is here to
help those ugly looking zubaz helmet-heads)
Cowboys (I'm a little biased but if their defense and o-line show
up, Romo will wake up and lighten the running load)
Patriots (Brady is back - nuff said)
Jets (This team has beaten the best of the league already - oh
and rookie QB Mark Sanchez is pretty much flawless - oh and
they're 3-0)
Here's the current reality:
Vikings: 8-1
(Favre can still throw 65+ yards in the air in one
lunge and Peterson is 2nd in the NFL with 917 rushing yards -
but this was kind of a no brainer pick)
Cardinals: 6-3
(Winning 5 of their last 6 games, Warner may be old but
he's no slouch with receivers like Fitzgerald, Hightower
and Boldin grabbing his pinpoint throws. I'm pretty happy
with this call.)
Bengals: 7-2
(I don't think ANYone could have called this. Leading the
AFC are the Colts, the Patriots and...the BENGALS? Palmer
is staying healthy and their big D led by sackmaster
Antwan Odom is shutting down big teams. This is my
proudest call yet.)
Cowboys: 6-3
(Eesh. I'm kinda torn here because I'm a lifer Cowboys fan
but Romo is becoming a little flaky and they lost what
should have been an easy game to the lackluster Packers
today. It will be interesting to see how they fare against
some harder teams in the next few weeks.)
Patriots: 6-3
(Losing a 35-34 heartbreaker and dealbreaker to the Colts
tonight, Brady is still back and hungry for a title. No one
can defend Randy Moss with any measure of success. They
can't be counted out.)
Jets: 4-5
(Alright - I admit it. I jumped on the Mark Sanchez
bandwagon way too fast. Rex who? No one cares about
this team anymore. At best, they can finish the year at
maybe 9-7 but they would have to catch fire to even
break .500 - dumb call on my part. I guess I was just
very excited that they beat the Giants.)
Little Rock Show That picture is about the actual size of the venue we played in
tonight. No matter, though - it was rocked for all ages to
come. The night flowed well (despite a few botches by the
people running the event) and we had well over 50 guests
attending in a 70 person capacity venue. The acoustic
Graven set was something I had only done once before but
it felt and sounded great. Brendan Lorimer lent his sweet
guitar tones in assistance while Ben Gresik lent some banjo
and percussion and even Alex Mundy threw her vocal and
keyboard hat into the ring of collaboration. Even my friend
Aaron lent his voice to a few tracks. All in all, the acoustic
set was beautiful and sounded like liquid gold coming back
through the monitors. The electric stuff was okay - and it
worked - but it was nowhere near my usual standard. Lots
of screw-ups. That's also because this was one of those day
before/day of practice shows. Whatever, eh?
All's fair in love and rock.
It was also nice having my friend Tyrone (who has worked
forever at promoting his own Silver Speakers stuff and
on his own) play with Graven for a few tracks with his
bassist Jared.
T'was a good night. More impromptu shows to come, for
sure.
KTown Bound And Down Heading for the big smoke of Kingston to get away with Sarah
and play a little rock show at the Artel on Saturday night. It
should be good. Maybe not, though - maybe it will suck.
I guess you really never know.
The 401 leaves perpetual bags under the eyes of my
consciousness. It is a creative space and a horrendous hound
of boredom all wrapped into one.
I get a lot of good ideas on the 401.
Long Weekend Sometimes, it would be nice to just be like John Candy in
Summer Rental and wreak havoc on a small beach community
in Maine and cause disaster at every turn while enjoying
yourself thoroughly.
I need a break and I need some things to come together
in the next while in order to make the booking doable.
Otherwise, I may be finding a street corner to poop on.
Ballet Straps It's a dance not many understand but one that requires all of
the dancer. There is no holding back - no lolly-gagging.
You are either all in or all out. No half-assing.
It's all about the lines and the symmetry that forms from
the flow of the body and the tending to that shape with a
needle-eye for detail.
The bodies move like feathers across a stage - but all the
while, the feathery shapes have pain and back alignment
problems. So much pain to make a beautiful shape.
That's the discipline.
Tuesday Pints Went for pints with a lad named Jeff tonight.
It was good.
All is well.
Manic Monday Whatever happened to these guys? Apparently, they had a
best of album. I never knew any other songs beyond 'Manic
Monday'. Odd that they actually made music. It's hard to
see through the 80's and early 90's to see which bands
actually made music and which ones had 6 hits per album
that were all ghost-written by producers.
Here's my question: If you are going to be a professional
musician, shouldn't you AT LEAST create the songs yourself?
Just a thought.
This week, I'm trying to get back into the flow of booking.
It's rough and rugged and I feel totally aloof. Venues have
cancelled dates that were set in stone months ago. Artists
get pissed at me.
It's good fun.
The Whistling Wind The nightwinds fly like unleashed dogs searching for meat.
Hungry and howling.
Catastrophe flows in and out of sequence.
Planets align. Mercury rises. Effigy hangs.
Scarecrows rouse in the rustling crops.
Saturday Rollerskating Jams Saturdays used to be easy days for me. I can recall playing
hours of Nintendo with my best friend Brian. That summer,
he, Stu and myself were trying to finish Super Mario 3. It
was good times and easy hours being killed. It's funny -
you used to look forward to an opportunity to kill many
hours. Now, it's like you have to squeeze every morsel out
of every moment.
Everything has to mean something.
Dangit.
A Long Winter's Nap That's a snapshot of me taken last night by Sarah. She was fixing
some nanaimo bars in the kitchen while I sat with a glass of
Jameson by the fire.
I'm wiped out. Spent. Done. Biscuits. Yarded. Fudged. Fuel-less.
Funneled. Cake Pied. I didn't think I would have much fun
travelling around northern Ontario with a Country Band...but
I sure as poop did. In all honesty, I know this band isn't anything
legendary - and it's not like we went from Tokyo to New York
to Australia or anything...but it was a ride.
It actually was a bit of a surreal setting. I spent three solid days
with the same dudes in a van, in hotels and behind stages. I
can probably name the names of their wives just from their
conversations. The jokes rolled out in a pace that was
unforgiving and side-splitting. The gas rolled out of arses
in cyclical disgust (which was something I was told called
'road rump').
It sorta reminded me of the film 'Almost Famous' where the
girl at the end of film (who was a friend of Kate Hudson's
character Penny) who was a groupie for the band talks about
'the ride having to end somewhere'. That's kinda how I feel.
I know it's kinda lame - but it's the truth.
I feel like I'm back in a different world now. Detached.
Anyways - meet the boys (from left to right): Chris, Brent, Stephen,
Murray and Dave (and some wanna-be Blues Brothers dudes in
front).
Winners It's settled. Another year of baseball has gone down in the books.
Another year of buying and selling players like so much chattel .
Hideki Matsui is freaking talented...but after this many years in
the majors, it's kind of hard to figure out why the dude can't
speak a lick of English.
Rama! Right now, I am in Orillia. The band is playing at Casino Rama.
They are playing to a room of 1,800 people. It's sold out.
Crazy.
Back In The Bury After all these years.
Wouldn't ya know it - Sudbury is still standing.
So basically, yesterday, a friend of mine (who I've been doing some
bookings for) called me and told me he runs a side artist-driving
and that he had to do a driving stint up north but that due to a few
big -paying shows coming up, he couldn't make it. Due to my fairly
open schedule, I was able to help Jeremy out (and make some decent
coin, as well, with free hotel rooms to boot) and so here I am -
in Sudbury.
I am driving this band around the next few days. They are called
'Doc Walker'.
Life is interesting. Stay posted for more treats from the road.
On The Road Again Looks like I'm taking a bit of a road trip tomorrow for a part time job.
More info to come if and when I do it.
Helping The Cause I love the fact that it has become popular to dislike the Yankees.
It only makes me love them more.
Andy Petite has proved that he is more than just a big league pitcher-
he is a competitor and a true ball player. Last night, in a game where
he struggled early against the Phillies, he came to the plate with 2
outs and a runner on base. Petite, being from the American League,
has been to the plate as a batter only 11 times in his career.
What happens next? Petite connects for a base hit and drives in the
tying run. The Yanks went on from there and romped the Phils 8 to
5 but I love Andy Petite for his well-rounded performance.
Sure - he throws a lot of junk and gets batters to swing and has lost
much zip on his fastball over the years, but he has experience.
Joe Girardi has faith in him. Even after letting in 3 runs early, he
left him in the game. He's seasoned. He knows what to do in the
clutch.
That's what everyone seems to be forgetting in this ever-so-popular-
anti-Yankee-pro-Philly campaign - the Yanks have been here before
...and they know what to do.
Dead To Me ($20 to the first person who can identify both the actor and the film
in the above picture).
You know - I'm a pretty laidback guy. Nothing really irks me that
much. I'm mostly a hippie. I'm fairly pacifistic in my world view.
But if you want to preach something to me and then don't even have
the balls to stick around and talk to me/dialogue about it, you are
basically dead to me. I'm not trying to be a jerk - but I put of a
boat load of effort into my personal relationships. Some I suck at -
Some I'm improving daily at - others, I could really care less
because I've put in more than my fair share of communication
attempts and the other party has been silent.
No one likes a big-talker betty-crocker who spits a lot of nuts
and then leaves the shells on the ground without cleaning up.
Grow a pair and get back to me when you're done pouting.
An Outlet Going Wild As silly and as juvenile as I feel making the Matt Show, at times, it really has
been a good outlet to focus on so far this year. I've enjoyed it and the interplay
and reception it's caused among friends.
Matt Show Christmas party anyone?
I'll crack something - I always do Sometimes working on your own feels like a constant uphill battle
on an avalanching mountain. I spend a lot of time:
a. online
b. on the phone
c. in my apartment
d. waiting
e. doing all of the above
But much like Barry (Sandler's character in Punch Drunk Love), I
know that something will crack eventually. People need booking.
The service I provide is a little different and more unique than
what's out there so I'm looking forward to further developing what
I can do and build for artists. Value on value.
The key is never EVER offering what you cannot provide. Many
companies get rich by doing that but I don't believe in that.
Twitter Patter So I've joined the world of Twitter. It's pretty weird and inane.
You can follow what I'm doing with The Matt Show and general
life
here and then again with Graven
here . Pretty galldarn
exciting.
Actually - it's not exciting at all. I just joined to see what the hype
is all about.
Trust me. It ain't much.
A New Day Budding from the cracks of disappointment and out of the crevices
of a dreamless sleep comes a new day. A day that could be shot to
hell - or a day that could be something extraordinarily grand.
What is it that we want from our existence? The trees fold up their
patio umbrellas of leaves for another season and the ground
becomes stiff and rigid. Soft dirt pathways now feel more like the
surface of the moon.
My cat stares out the window and sizes up the day in a manner
that I wish I could interpret and learn from. I think she knows
many things I do not. Her eyes close and open - she fades in and
out of consciousness.
For a moment, the sun widens - and as fast as I type this, it siphons
out. Banks account drain. Joy follows pain. Coffee shirt stain.
Go Time Alright Phillies. Less' see whatchoo got. (spit, spit).
The fall classic is almost here...and WAY into the fall. Do
people care? Is baseball as fun as it once was before it was
rigged by salary-capping? Do you remember a day when it
really was all about peanuts and cracker jacks?
Who are we kidding - baseball has always been rigged even
before the days of Babe Ruth and extreme white supremacy
in the majors. Of course, it wasn't white supremacy then
because...it was just an accepted standard behaviour.
Sarah and I are chillin' at home today. I conned her into
watching True Lies with me on VHS. Great classic Arnie
flick. It still blows my mind that the man on the screen, beating
the hell out of terrorists, is now a governor.
Post #500
This is my 500th post on this blog. That means that 500 times,
I have dialed up blogger.com and stenciled my thoughts and
ramblings into this publishing tool. I started blogging in
2003. Since then, until January 1 of 09, I have been rather
sporadic in my posting habit.
This past year, I have managed to post once every day. I think
I have done alright thus far, considering the fact that it's
October 25th. Wow. When you write it like that, the year
looks like a blink.
My hope is, of course, that all of this means something. I hope
that blogging has been an exercise in growth and wisdom as
opposed to a fruitless pursuit. It's an extension of me and
obviously a conduit to those of you who take the time to
read it.
Thanks for allowing me to do this, friends. I know that I'm
not always coherent. May each of you find ways to further your
passions and talents as you read my chortling chunder.
Kid In A Candy Store
It's important to still have those moments in life where you get
'wowed' by something. Growing up, it's easy to become snobby
and expectant of the way things will turn out. Last night, I
was a kid in a candy store.
David Bazan has been somewhat of an invisible inspiration in
my life...until last night. He was very visible last night. Playing
mostly bass for a full set of rockin' tunes (which included a
few old Pedro The Lion throwbacks), Bazan didn't move much
or have what most marketeers of the music scene would call
'stage presence', but he sure rocked the crowd with lo-fi
thunder. Last night was my first time seeing him live and
hopefully not my last. His style has been a major musical
driver for me (especially within Graven) and he even sort of
helped me to wake up and get serious about this blog.
As I panned the crowd last night, I saw my friend Tyrone (of
Silver Speakers) standing stage left with the look of an awed
child meeting Santa Claus. My cousin Ben and his friend
Jake felt the same way.
Thank you Mister Bazan - for making me feel alive.
Bazanian In the T-smoke - blogging from my cousin's house. He is cooking
pasta in the other room. We are off to see the above man in concerto
tonight at Lee's Palace.
He has been an inspiration to me and never comes to Canada.
I will let you know how it goes.
Dodge This Looks like Casey Blake and the boys from Los Angeles are
hitting the golf course. Since seeing the Dodgers last year in
LA with my friends Matt and Mitch, I've had a bit of a connection
with this team. I'm not sure but I feel sad for them tonight.
They are a money team - to be sure. But they are the Dodgers -
a true team of baseball lore. Their manager is Joe Freakin'
Torre.
Too bad.
Go Yanks.
New Provocative Matt Show Trailer Watch for it. It's gonna be a barnburner of an episode.
Monday Monday Monday Ok Rivers. Quit chirping and make something happen, wouldja?
For the sanity of all football loving San Diegans. San Diegoans.
Sunday Sunday Sunday How long can this man keep making headlines?
Unreal.
Still In The Cap' The above map represents where I used to live. Life has
changed immensely since then. I no longer work 3 jobs and
live in an apartment where I can't stand up straight because
of old piping. Don't get me wrong - I friggin' loved Ottawa.
But it is not where I'm supposed to be right now.
I guess we'll just have to adju-uuuuuu-uuu-u-uu-uu-uuust.
What Kind Of Story Are You Living? I don't like to read books. I like to replace pages of text
with life lessons. One author, though, has stuck with me through
the years as someone who has ignited the passion that is within
my bones - Don Miller. He's not the most eloquent writer of
all time and definitely goes for the simpler strand - but he
writes experientially and he never publishes anything that
is not real or genuine to his own life - and that goes a long
way with his reading audience.
His newest offering 'A Million Miles In A Thousand Years'
is all about the elements of story and what makes a story
compelling. It's a pretty amazing and powerful read. The
question is repeatedly asked 'What kind of story are you
living?' It's a good question.
So what kind of story am I living?
What kind of story are you living?
Autumn Tones 4 I've always been puzzled by a book my friend Brad had to read
for school that was called 'The Hunting Of The Quark'. To
my limited understanding, Quarks are the building blocks
of matter but because of their miniscule size, they have never
been seen on their own - only in groups (hadrons). I remember
asking Brad 'What the heck is quark?'. He looked at me with
a deadpan blink, sighed in defeat, and retorted 'You don't want
to know' and shook his head, while burying it back into his
books. Brad was a good friend and he didn't do this to be a jerk -
but I think the explanation would have been lost on me and
even more of an intellectual chore for him to sound out.
I guess I always thought of that moment as being significant as
it's always easier to by-pass a thorough explanation because we
write off the listener.
Later that night, after a rousing game of football featuring Jon
Toelle, Dave Dixon, Steve and myself (I was pretty thin and
handsome then and could throw 45+ yards in the air), a group
of us staff were chatting and Steve was discussing how he had
lost certain feelings for the girl he was seeing since the
summer. A few of us coaxed him with stupid phrases like
'It will pass' and 'Just give it some time', but I think Steve
was telling us that he knew the relationship/fling was
already over. He walked away from us, mid-conversation
(as there was a phone outside of derby in those days) and
grabbed the phone. 'Steve - what are you doing?' I asked
as the lot of us sat under a tree that was in the middle of the
lodges. We tried not to eaves-drop but Steve kind of made
it a display and asked for it. Within 4 minutes of being
on the phone, Steve came back to the group. 'It's over',
he sighed. 'I feel a lot better, now'. We were in shock. 'You
mean...you JUST broke up with her? In that span of time?'
I jested. 'Yep. Anyone want some hot chocolate?' Steve stood
up and headed for the dining hall.
For Steve, he had found the quark.
The mystery was gone.
Later that weekend, the insanity of the meal had passed and
a few of us posed for a shot outside of Derby (the staff lounge
at that time) before we headed out for the weekend:
(L-R: Melinda R, Me, Jim Verburg, Steve Gray, Dave Dixon,
Sarah B, Justin Paisley)
Parts of the weekend and the wedding, I'll never remember but
parts of it will always oddly stay in my heart and my being.
Autumn Tones 3
My head swirled in a way it hadn't before. Things that comforted me
while falling asleep wouldn't do the trick. I was up plenty early that
day and had buckets of exercise, walking to and from campus (a 4k
trek from my basement pad on Cedar St) several times.
But I was restless within.
My mind raced through old sermons from the Presbyterian church
that stiffened me and my brother, my parents, heaven and hell,
a billion other belief systems and religions...and I felt overwhelmed.
I got up and turned on my bedside light. I sat at my desk for a bit,
in the corner of the room, just contemplating. It was 3:30 am and
I had turned in at about 11:30. On my desk, oddly enough, was the
bible that I still have today - black and bound by fake leather of
some kind with my name inscribed in gold cursive on the bottom
right cover.
For some reason, I opened it and flipped to the book of James. I
can't exactly recall how or why I turned the pages to that destination -
it just happened. And I read about putting one's faith into
action and how faith without deeds is dead. The words seemed
to apply directly to me. If I call myself a Christian and was
raised to believe that and I've experienced a sense of God being
with me - why am I not acting out my beliefs? Essentially, I was
wading in and out of people's lives with no effect. I was spiritually
stung.
That night, some weeks later (in a cabin with Steve), I awoke to
Steve's soft voice beckoning me. 'Matt - guy - Matt...' I had
fallen asleep with my sleeping bag totally open and the frosty
October night had dropped in temperature like a stone. 'Guy -
I am FREEZING!! Are you actually asleep?' Steve asked,
half-screaming, half-chattering. I then remarked to Steve that
I did sleep but that my one eye-ball, that wasn't against the
pillow felt like a solid ball of ice crammed into my eye socket.
We gathered up our things, shaking and yawning all the while,
and headed for the staff quarters and crashed in the lounge.
We awoke the next morning to different staff dudes like Dave
Dixon and Justin Paisley walking through the lounge and
commenting on our 'sissy-ness'. Steve defended us in a nice
manner but I'm pretty sure I used expletives and tried to
keep sleeping.
It was sunday morning.
Autumn Tones 2 Steve and I decided to sleep outside that night. We were tired of the
usual rigamarole of sleeping in staff quarters at camp with other
smelly dudes and needed some time to connect. We headed down
from the main dining hall and found an abandoned cabin still with
mattresses in it. Chris's wedding had ended the day before and Steve
and I finally had a chance to de-brief our lives for the past few
months. Before heading back to Guelph, I had decided to volunteer
at camp that weekend for a couple days as my new girlfriend was
also there and it would be the first time we saw each other since
the summer.
We both chucked our sleeping gear on to the bunk closest to the
door and made remarks about how nice of a night it was. The cool
smokiness of the fall air lent something to it and under the
starry umbrella of lanark county, we were sensing it in full force.
We decided to forego teeth-brushing and got right into our
sleeping cocoons and began to chat in the dark of the cabin with
the moonlight seeping in. I poured out my guts to Steve and he
listened. I told him that being with this girl was hard but that
we were giving it an honest go (even though she lived in Ottawa
and was still in high school and I was 5 hours away in 2nd year
of uni). Steve was silent about his romantic endeavours. So I
asked him and he responded that he was also scared and unsure
but that things were going alright. They lived in different parts
of Ottawa and Steve (being a slacker 18 year old) still didn't
have his license.
After talking for a bit, I realized that Steve was a good friend.
Steve didn't always appear to be the brightest light on the block
but that was just his big and somewhat oafy demeanour - he
really only thought deeply 95% of the time and didn't like
talking about things that didn't matter.
That same fall, a few weeks before the wedding and sleeping
in the cabin with Steve, I had a bit of an experience in my guelph
basement. I was tired of living a life that focused on things that
didn't matter. As cheesy and as over-Americanized it sounds -
God spoke to me.
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