Okay then, its been a good year of writing nifty articles at STARTFIRES.COM (ed note 1/2/09: startfires.com was hacked and all the data was LOST! bummer dude. now its back up tho) and meanwhile rocking shows and getting to know more about why i am so intent on meeting more creative people and developing through my own creative process. I have started documenting more about my work and process at DMLH.BLOGSPOT.COM, including new writing, music, mixes, and art. STARTFIRES.COM is still going strong with video and audio content of the continued collaboration between Shermstixx and I. I also publish articles about a collection of artists at NINE37.COM, which has an archive that goes back a few years now.

I also have music on the networks reverbnation and myspace, and i use twitter for relevant updates.

In February of 2000FINE I am going on tour across the US with my friend Thrashley Caustic and my brother Dre to share our art, music and poetry with as many people as we can, and to learn something about everyone we meet along the way. We want to share our ideas and actions toward positive change in the world with other interested people, and will be documenting it at watchitgrowtour.blogspot.com, so check in between february and may for live videos, new songs, articles about collectives around the country and more.

Anyway, If you have stumbled across this blog please go and check out some of the articles in the archives, i think there are some gems in there.

YAR!

Is where I am publishing all new material as of January 2000GREAT. Shermstixx and I keep a current record of all the best shows we see, bands we hear, places we go and music we make, with content ranging from new audio tracks to short essays and photography to live video and consistent recommendations of fun things to do if you are going out at night in Portland, Oregon.

Check it out: www.startfires.com

Since you are here you might as well scroll down and read some of my old posts. Unfortunately all the audio files on the page are dead links - I am not going to go and remove them all, so don't bother with that. Its too bad really, those were all recorded from my cell phone back when I had no access to a studio in Portland. I haven't written anything new on this blog since 2006. In that period of time I managed a bar in Portland, put on a major hip hop festival and a widely discussed art festival in Vermont, and then came back to Portland to build Start Fires with Alex, which also led to me developing my booking and event production vocation as well as opening a local culture retail shop with a good friend. I think I started blogging on here in 2004, which is now four years past. Which is kind of wild. Now I am getting wistful or maybe even mildly reflective. I guess I will have to go through and read some of this too.

See you when the future becomes now!

At this very moment, as my fingers brush these keys, we are becoming. Aging, developing further interests, casting new judgments, re-positioning our political identities, we are constantly achieving a new state of being that is related both to what we remember ourselves as being in our past, and what we see ourselves as being in our future. Using all information available to our perceptual mechanism we become and continue to do so.

The trick is to recognize this continual process in ourselves and in those around us. There is no static "you" or "I", "them" or "us". Any of these pronouns exist as a generalized description of the continual process, or processes, that is a human or group of humans. This makes sense, we can theorize about it and even claim to understand each other with this principle in mind, yet I find it hard to bring myself to this point of perception at all times. In other words, I find my judgments, fears, past impressions and future objectives influencing my communication and perception to the point where I may very well be labeling people or refusing to see who they are becoming as we interact. This effectively shuts the door on any opportunity for people to build the relationships of trust which are the foundation for strong communities.

This creates something of a dilemma in my existence: I am dedicated to building strong community (at this point I'm not sure what else is worth doing) - which includes creating and supporting each others cultural gifts, openly discussing the needs of various groups of people and addressing ways to serve them (otherwise known as politics, based on the Greek "polis", which means "the people"), sustaining methods and spaces for education that exist outside of the military-industrial institutions, and seeing that our survival needs are met with a balanced division of labor. After writing that sentence i realize that those elements are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to building strong communities. Let me return to the topic at hand. The dilemma of my existence is the tension between working toward these goals and stopping myself from achieving them because i am at times unable to respect people for the process of their becoming. Yet when mutual respect is there, I can see the glory of a progressive, learning-based model of reality manifest in that instance of communication.

I've been around for much of it. The story about the Avail picture is resonating in my head right now (if you dont know, just ask). I missed that show, though I remember who did go. Hesse gave us a name for it, but regardless of names we see each other and respond. Its not always dramatic, though often a rush comes with the realization that we are not alone. Its easy to forget these things on your way to work at ten pm. Its just as easy to remember.

Years later we see some of the effects. Its the koan about a butterfly, read out loud in an empty forest. All of us hear it at the same time, and the light in our eyes burns so hot it dissappears from our sight.

Everyone looks for the camera holder; he can only dream to capture the essence of someone in the midst of their work as our eyes find him. It won't be long until he catches us. Who will record that moment?

Three hours developed into a week long extravaganza. We haven't even seen it happen yet, and it's more real than my oatmeal breakfast. We always had aspirations, but even the visionary didn't see it growing like this. A letter once circulated, describing the possibilities of combined effort. An event program carried the declaration, "Gestalt!" Now we begin to see the meaning of the esoteric description, "...at once many things..."

This picture is for Joe Shafer, because someone always carries a tradition.

If you are at all interested in the sexual politics of the coming century I recommend entering the world of libidot. No worries, this will not open a thousand pop-up windows, libidot.org is the online representation for the cultural examinations of Dr. Katrien Jacobs PHD. Currently a professor at City University of Hong Kong, Dr Jacobs has taught in countries around the world, as well as toured in her exploration and research of erotic spaces in the digital age. Check it out, check out the links, and take a moment to consider what you think is sexy. Then ask yourself why.

This is the way we ball.

SouthEast Portland, near Belmont/37 or so...

The Red Ferret Journal is a wiki list of every free and legal music downloading site on the net. None of us can afford not to go there. Right now. Go.

Lincoln, Vermont: 2005

Pacific Standard and
Get Stoopid both have mad downloads from Bay area artists. Definitly check this out - this is the future of hip hop, as far as I can tell. The Get Stoopid downloads go through rapidshare, which takes a while because they only let you do one at a time if you are getting them for free, but be patient and then output them to a cassette. Yes thats right, cassette. You know, like a mixTAPE? While you're at it, go to hieroglyphics.com and cop the Z-Man record "Dope or Dogfood". That is my favorite record this year, second only to the latest Shermstixx mix, "Space Age Driveby Music V2." Limited edition hand packaged copies of this cd were avaiable in Vermont over new years, and a new version is soon to be available online. Check his tracks out on myspace for a taste.

A nap is always recommended. Follow by purging. Rinse and Repeat.

Dig that base color. I hope that the future rubble will be as non-invasive as this.

Snapped this on my bike ride yesterday.

If you have heard the audio on this page you have a sense of whats going on with this blog right now. All of the audio on this page is governed by the creative commons liscence which currently allows anyone to utilize this material for their creative purposes with the exception that any project which utilizes this material must be not-for-profit, unless a further agreement between myself and the liscencee is made. Notification of such a project and a copy of any such product must be made available to me, and I will retain a publishing/authorship credit on any project which utilizes this material.

That said: SAMPLE EVERYTHING. Send me a copy, give me a credit, but use it, get it out there and most importantly, keep the process of community creation alive.

PEACE

I first saw Anais Mitchell perform during a coffee shop night at Deerleap Books in Bristol, Vermont, during the spring of 1999. I remember a song that tied an examination of the cultural influences that make up the young American man with a story about people exploring each other beyond those influences. I have a distinct memory of listening to her voice as it explored what would become a signature style, giving each word the weight to stay with the audience long enough to influence conversations well beyond the night of the performance.

A year later she played at a Boston coffee shop that has since closed down. With her guitar, voice, and a suitcase amplifier, she brought people out of their conversations and into a group audience. This same effect would happen in the subway stations a few blocks away, and at the club in Cambridge where she would become a regular in the scene. In the years that followed she would play for many more audiences, no longer in subways, but on the bill at festivals, local bars and coffee shops, from her time in Austin, Texas, to the Kerrvile Folk Festival where she was awarded the prestigious New Folk Award in 2003, to touring with the "Circus Guy's Rock and Roll Revue" throughout the Middle East.

Anais' most recent album, "Hymns for the Exiled", recorded with Michael Chorney at the Gristmill in Bristol, Vermont, is graceful, buoyant, concentrated and honest. Her voice resides in the space it once explored, as though it is now building upon a solid foundation. Her subject matter is focused, delightfully poetic and straightforward.

I had the opportunity to see her play in 2005 at the Northeast Kingdom Music Festival. She stood on stage, with her guitar, in front of friends and strangers, and played with the confidence of one who holds her strength and challenges her weakness. Her energetic presence is a hundred times the size of her figure, and the rapt attention of her audience at the first ripple of her voice is a tribute to this. through the meandering notes, the smiles, direct eyes and soulful dance with her guitar, Anais Mitchell delivers an honest experience that asks us to find the same truth in ourselves.

During the summer of 1998 Joe Shafer showed me a zine titled "Interrupt" that contained music interviews, photography, and irreverent articles. That would be my first introduction to the creative adventure of Mikael Kennedy, and what would become Interrupt Art Productions.

At the Winter 2001 Five Town Massive Micro Mini Film Festival (which has since become too massive to be micro mini) in Bristol, Vermont, Mikael's photodocumentary "Kids Life Sucks" was the premier gallery attraction. This collection of color photographs, handmade books, and silk-screened patches documented his time traveling around the country, interacting with young people who were uprooted or did not fit into the traditional society mold. I have my favorite print from that exhibit hanging on my wall; part of a series of photographs of a young man in a hooded sweatshirt. In this particular image, the subjects head is just outside the frame, the light is greenish blue and there is an uneven quality to the focus. Although it may seem as though the picture has missed it's focal point, this perfectly illustrates the theme of lost children who live, somewhere outside of the frame built by our culture, a life that is literally out of focus to the eyes of the status quo, and at home in the electric shadows of city streets.

After that festival, at my family's house in Lincoln, sometime well past midnight, Mikael scaled a boulder on my family's property in order to snowskate off the top of it. This ended with him hobbling back toward the house, with what we later found out to be torn tendons, and a smile of absurdity. The morning after this incident, Mikael hiked down the driveway to his car, leaning on a staff for support. This image stays with me when I think of Mikael: ambitious yet humble, with a supportive sense of humor. These traits allow him to capture the overlooked beauty of an everyday experience.

This is the magic of "Still, Not Dead", Mikael's latest gallery series, which has also been collected into a book. This collection reads like a mythology of people I know, people I might like to meet, people I may never encounter and people I have never met, but feel as though I have known all along. This collection tells the story of the present moment, populated by its own great heros. In an era when the grand narratives have been deconstructed into post-modern oblivion, Mikael presents a simple response, a personal narrative positioned to carry its own weight. These faces look out to us in a statement of their existence, with no further qualification needed. That we are given names to the faces allows us to experience them as community, so that we might say hello if we met them in the course of our own lives.

If you watch what other people are doing during study hall, you will find a few types: those who actually study, those who whittle at the clock with games that fall beneath the radar of authority, and those who choose to use the time for interests not well fed during the average school day. When I first met Nissa Kauppila, she sat down across from me, and pulled out a sketchbook.

In the years since then I found that she was a great artist, whose talent is only overshadowed by her work ethic. If she sets a goal for herself, be it with painting, filmmaking, or just meeting someone for a cup of coffee, she will do everything in her power to make that happen. This quality is what set her work apart from others in high school; the details spoke of someone who has spent hours making choices of color, line or texture. The early paintings I can recall were images that spoke of a young woman exploring and crafting her response to the world. She worked with stylized imagery that seemed to grow and move beyond the frame as evidence of the fluid process of creation Nissa chose to take part in.

It is her trust and effort in this process that has brought her thus far. Nissa graduated from the Rhode Island School of Design in 2005, and though she went in a visual artist with a strong background in painting, she emerged a filmmaker. While attending college she found work to support herself on the lobster boats that have long been a part of that community's economy. Nissa's film work has been personal, often finding some aspect of her own experience to share with the community. There is an essence of social responsibility in her work, she is aware that moving pictures have an effect on the minds of the viewers. Her films are a celebration of free speech that tell her story with the trust that in sharing our stories, we may better understand the world we co-inhabit.

Nissa's most recent film work, "I Live Here, but I Stay in Vermont", is her documentation of a specific time in her life, and the process that led her there. Like her paintings, the images in this film often move beyond their frame. They tell of the greater reality that brings them to life. This is the story of a young woman who has learned the value of life by making the choice to follow her aspirations despite whatever may block the path, as told through her family's shared experience of growth. It is her decision to live a life she can love, and her effort to follow through on this, that brings such personal work to connect with a public audience.

His eyes drift over the other tables in the atrium. Mothers and sons, mothers and daughters, older couples obviously still in love, sit and talk with muted tones and short glances. Smiles abound, as do daisys, carnations, and yellow daffodils garnished with forget-me-nots.

Her eyes send information to her brain, which categorizes the room as her neck turns. Purple sweater, pink collar, cobalt jeans and snakeskin boots? Add it to the comedy bank. Blonde hair falling out of a twisted topknot? Glance toward the mirror on the far left, just to make sure yours is still together. Eyes in the mirror that appear to catch you looking? Note this and avert your gaze; solid chin with scruff beard? Look again in two minutes.

His eyes move to his left. She's got a soft look, he thinks, as well as a good haircut. She digs through her pocketbook. Her bangs fall just in front of her eyes as she examines the contents. She's really looking in there, he thinks, maybe for a phone to call whomever she's waiting on. His eyes feel hot for a moment. Her hand returns from the purse with a phone, a pen, and then dive back in for a short notebook. His torso turns toward the glass door behind him, as though there might be something to see outside.

Her eyes return to the mirror: scruff chin, brown collar, grey sweater, mussed hair. Cross reference recent films and stocked memories; all the guys are trying to look like someone these days. Mismatch: the tiny button pinned to his collar catches the light and disrupts the standard image. He looks out the door. Who could he be waiting for? File under self doubt: someone better than me. Recycle that, he must be waiting for his mother. Watch his head turn toward you; avert your eyes as his light your face.

She's definitly looking for someone outside, he thinks. Maybe not, she's putting her phone back in her bag. Did she make a call in that short time, or is she doing lots of nothing like me? She looks comfortable enough, tan collar under a black sweater, silver bracelets and three small hoop earrings in the left ear. His eyes linger on her ear, wait to find symmetry or otherwise. A Nepali headshake tosses her bangs. They fall into place above her eyes which meet his for a moment, then continue on the course set by her hair. Is she looking at me? Her focus points toward the table. Her hands find the notebook, open it, and uncap the pen. Her eyes look out from her tilted head, again in his direction. They stay, he realizes it's rude to stare and turns his head to the right.

File under cute and possibly unapproachable. He's definitly looking over here, probably wondering why you are sneaking peeks. Still no date at his table though, what are you writing right now?
"What am I doing here? I should go home and call mom. Today is another in a continuum, tommorow will be the same. File under routine."
She caps the pen, aware that she pulled it from her bag with no real purpose. Writing is to be done at all times, she thinks, so I can just as well do this tonight. Initiate justification process: there is too much noise, this room is full of people engaged in ritual and I am not taking part. Initiate self-reflexive response: this is fine. Her eyes scan the room unfocused, landing again on the mirror. The mirror collects everything in the room, flattens it, and offers a layered view of action. Add this to future knowledge. She sifts through the layers, finds his collar, then his eyes. File under shock as well as surprise; his eyes stay on course, watching you watch him. Initiate muscle sequence: smile.

So, we are now living in Portland Or. These are some shots of our new arrangements.
That old phone lets us buzz in folks at the front door.

SO...we were in glacier national park recently.

Well, it has been some time since I have plugged into this machine. The past few months have been consumed largely with recording music in the outbackshack, working in the restaraunt, and living in the real world. Local friendships have grown stronger, lost friendships have been found, and strained friendships are on the mend.

I find that I am beginning this summer with a real sense of my adult self. When I was thirteen I took part in a coming of age ceremony from a cherokee tradition. From then onward I considered my actions and choices those of an independent mind, the choices of a man, yet this year personal responsibility has taken on new meaning. I feel now more than ever that I am working with a clear idea of my self and my needs. This provides a real sense of security; no longer do I feel the massive burden of other's expectations, or rather, I feel my self strong enough to stand up to that weight.

With this sense of self I am finishing up my current stay in the great green state of
Vermont. Making good on commitments, rebuilding broken bridges, and setting the ground for something to grow in my absense. It's summer now, just add sun and water.

FROZEN HEAD