Sean Patrick Mcgraw

Singing Danny Boy To Johnny Mac

Johnny Mac died yesterday. I got the news around 2 pm as I was weighing my options for the day and thinkiing about going fishing at the Hiwassee or maybe staying home and getting some work done…it’s seems that I can always finsd something that needs catching up on and it seems that I give myself a lot of anxiety by thinking that I don’t work hard enough. I guess if you looked at my tour schedule that might seem kind of crazy, but to me, driving all over creation and visiting radio stations and/or playing gigs doesn’t feel like work even if it’s how i keep my lights on and for someone who supposedly works hard I make time for play and to exercise my mind and body. I mean, In the last couple weeks, I’ve flyfished in New York and Tennesse, surfed in California, Drank beer in TX, OK, AR, etc…I’ve played hockey, gone to hockey games, watched hockey, read about hockey, read about the settling of the American mid-west, I’ve run many many miles, walked some too. I’ve watched some great movies, some really bad ones, I’ve made movies of my own, I’ve written stories, I’ve written songs.

Some of that stuff might be considered career related. None of it feels like work.

Well, maybe songwriting does sometimes….When you’re uninspired, jaded, or trying to cowrite with the cliueless….Fortunately for me these days I write with people I know have “game,”: I write by myself when I’m inspired, and (thank-you-jesus) I’m inspired by a lot of things.

So.

It was yesterday and I was hemming and hawing over how to use my time and I got a text from Kenny Wright telling me about Johnny. Johnny was the Keyboardist in the Eagles tribute I was in, “Tequila Sunrise.” Kenny was the Drummer-Don-Henley-Guy. I was the Glen-Frey-Guy. Kenny and Johnny and me and John Pavlovsky were all pretty tight back in the day. (John Pavlovsky was the Don-Felder-dude). I guess I had heard sometime back that Johnny had been diagnosed with Cancer but to be honest I think it was over a beer soaked conversation with John Pavlovsky and the details were vague and it never struck me that it was serious, I mean really doesn’t everybody out live cancer nowdays? (Sarcasm on). I always liked Johhny Mac, I guess at one time we knew each other pretty well, but bands break up and you have a million other experiences and the details get fuzzy and all of us in Tequila sunrise got out of touch in various degrees…I mean, I think the world of Brian Wolsky, (Randy-Meisner-Timothy B-Schmitt-guy) and I don’t think we’ve been in touch for a couple years…not on purpose, things just go that way.

So anyway.

Last I heard Johnny Mac had split with his wife and was working a 9-5 job and had cancer. The details of the cancer were vague, but I knew this, the dude was young, his marriage had been rocky, and someone with his talent should have been able to get somewhere if they wanted to. I think the guy set aside some aspirations to try and do the right thing, but again the details are sketchy, we really had not been in-cominicado for awhile.

Rergardless. Young guy. Talented guy, Little guy with a big heart. Gone.

And maybe it’s a strange Irish gothis sense of hiumour that I’ve inherited…..my dear deprted dad went to Roy Stokes funeral years ago, and made an aside to the widowed Mrs Stoke:

“Jean, It’s a sad day, but it’s also a happy day?”

(As I was told Mrs Stokes looked at him with her head turned side ways) and said

“I get the sad part, what the hell could be happy about it?”

“Well”, said my dad, “It’s a a sad day that Roy is lying there, It’s a happy one that I”M NOT.”

And while I’m very sad for Johnny Mac and even more so for his family, I’m happy for me that I’m here to to write this at this moment and I was happy to think that–when I got the news–that If I wanted, I was free to drop the little things that seemed so pressing to me and get in the truck and drive off with with a tent and a sleeping bag and some fly fishing gear and waste some time in a beautiful place like Reliance, TN and maybe catch a few fish.

It’s what Big Bill (my dad) woud have done.

So I loaded up my vehicle with my flyrods and reels and a tent and a sleeping back and some camping food and gear and I headed off for East Tennessee. On the way I got a phoine call from John Pavlovsky with a few mnore details on how it went for Johnny. I guees he was feeling fine one minute and not breathing the next and if that doesn’t say it all…I know we walk this earth for a blink of an eye in the span of history. I know as I get iolder the years go by quicker and I know when I look back on the life I’ve lived thus far my biggest regrets are not so much for things I’ve done but for what I didn’t do. It seems like most of us get a warning when our time is near, cancer gives you one, but I’m not taking living a long life for granted and if I’m not living every day like it’s my last there’s a least an undercurrent in my psyche that says LIVE your life, or to paraphrase Ayn Rand (I think) “It would be sinfil to have wasted one day just surviving your life and not living it.” (or something like that? I read Atlas Shrugged at 22 and some of it stuck with me…some of it seems to have outlined the platform of Americas politivcal right, no regard for human nature, but that’s another blog i’ll write when things aren’t so polarized as in, probably never…)

Anyhow.

It was a stunningly beaultiful day in Tennessee yesterday and I could get away so I did get away and I drove for a couple hours with Johnnie Mac on my mind and my Dad on my mind and the music business NOT on my mind and I arrived at the Hiwassee River with just enough time to rig up and present a fly to a pod of trout before the sun went down. And I managed to catch one nice lil ‘bow before it was too dark to see and I went in search of a camping spot over in Quinn Springs and was succesful and set up camp and got a nice fire going and had a beer or two and then slept like a rock in a tent until daybreak when I got up, struck camp and headed down to the river.

The Hiwasse has been fickle in my experience. I’ve had some days on her when it seemed that there were trout everywhere you casted and I ‘ve had others that made me wonder were there any fish in there at all? The last few visits I made were with my dad. The first in the spring) we’d had lots of action–if not many fish–the second ( in the fall) had been pretty great so far as fish and scenery and the third (In winter) had us wondereing if there hadn’t been a fish-kill (it was winter though, who knows?). I know this: my father loved it here. He and I had some great times on this water. When I think of my dad, in my memory, this is one of the place i picture him.

So I drove down to what used to be the lower trophy area and parked and rigged up and waded in and caught a few nice little trout in a pretty short periood of time. A C130 flew overhead and I caught myself thinking “Someone’s out there fighting a war and here I am standing in a river waving a stick (to quote John Gierach). And I was thankful for their servioe and thankful do god that I live a life where I can waste my time if I feel so inclined and that I can do it in such a beautiful place.And as pretty as it was where I stood the day started out cold enough that even with fleece and a hoodie on I was shivering after an hour or two and I walked back to the truck figuring i’d build a fire and make some coffee if the outfitters wasn’t open. Luckily it was and I grabbed coffee to go and headed back to where i’d parked and figured I’d hike back in on the trail a bit and explore some. I say “explore” because it seems half the time I say I’m “fishing” is actually time spent on reconnaisance and as inntuitive as it would be to assume that the water less-fished-fishes better, my expereience has been that the water less fished is also the water less stocked. In the case of a larger river like the Hiwassee–one that is a tailwater to boot–sometimes this is NOT the case and the fish are dispersed like they should be so that guys like me who are willing to hike and seek out the remote stretches are rewarded for our effort….unlike the put-and-take water that I most usually get to fish where, if you want to find the fish, find the bridgethey’ve all been dumped under.

I walked about a mile and a half in on the trail (i’m guessing) before i heard the sound of a riffle in the mostly nearly-still-moving water of the middle Hiwassee. The riffle was out in a slot in the middle of the river, as though only fifty yards in the center of a quarter mile-wide river had any current while the surrounding water column stood still. The Hiwassee’s bottom is a a jagged, ankle-breaking juggernaut of upheaved strata. I’m not a geologist but i’m thinking this is a fault line? I don’t know for sure about that but I do know tha sideways slippery rocks aint easy to traverse and that my first pair of felt soled wading boots was purchased after a session on this river…one where I’m sure I left with bruised shins and at least one “baptism.” I felt clumsy at the time. Since then I’ve watched enough people fall on their ass here to know it ain’t just me.

I took my time getting out to wher the river was moving and found the water clear enough to put to use a few lessons on reading current that I learned from a great guide out in Montana. Basically the pedagogy went like this:

“You see that big rock there? that’s cover for a big fish. Put the fly where he’ll see it but hit the water with it far enough away thayt you don’t spook him.”

So I could see where a few large rocks were submerged and I cast a quill gordon (that’s the name of a dry fly pattern, one that looks like a generic cross between the caddis flies and sulfurs that were supposed to be hatching at the moment) into the seam of the current above one of the rocks and WHAM!! Fish on. Compared to the little 8′ stockers I’d hooked into near the parking lot, this little guy felt like a real bruiser. I might have played him for a minute or two before I was able to bring hiom to hand: a nice 13″ rainbow. Not a wild fish but a holdover who had some “shoulders.” After releasing him I saw another like-sized ‘bow launch himself from in between the two large submerged rocks in front of me. I cast two or three times before the little guy launched himself out of the water after my fly and again it’s FISH ON!!

Can I admit to whoo-hooing to myself at the time?

And it went along these lines for the next hour or two and I caught a LOT of fish, all on the same dry-fly. And I’ll say that It’s a rare moment that I feel like I really know what I’m doing with a fly-rod in my hand but this was one of those times and I know it might sound kooky but sometimes I think I get a little divine intervention from Big Bill and and maybe Johnny Mac was looking down on me this morning saying “You son of a bitch, I hate you for being able to just fuck off like this!!…..nice fish by-the-way…”

I hope so John. I really do. And fuck you for leaving so soon, The party was just getting started and you were half the fun.

Bastard.

Love you, man. Rest in peace.

 

Duvall Faced on Shit Street

After two weeks of being mostly behaved it was the second-to-last night of the gig and it was the night Marcus and Kristy showed up and let’s just start by saying i never intend (I rarely intend) to get drunk, and let us–let ME admit–that I AM a lightweight when it comes to alcohol (as much as I used to think I’m Irish and can handle it) my excuses I’m drinking on an empty stomach I’m just tired,” I didn’t know this pale ale was 8 percent.” Just don’t hold up after awhile and admitting and owning-up are the first steps to adressing a problem right?

Right.

I don’t have a problem. I like alcohol. I like getting drunk and I love everybody when I’m drunk.

I know I can’t do that too much or people worry about me

anyhow

So, let’s talk about the night i got shit-faced at Cowboy Bills.

Probably shouldn’t. Management will advice against.

Fuck ‘em. I feel like talking about it.

So there I was playing Happy hour at the front bar of Cowboy Bills in Key West, it’s called Salsa Loca (i’m pretty sure) and it’s Rick Monroe and me everyday for two weeks doing this and I don’t care who you are, you have to know an awful lot of songs to not start playing the same ones over and over and if i don’t like playing myshit over and over I prob dont wanna hear you play your shit unless your Neil Finn or maybe Alan Whitney and after awhile I feel like I’m sleepwalking through the gig (I was in a tribute band once for three-years-too-many and that’s all I ever did) and anyway there’s me and Rick Monroe and Rick is a stand-up guy and one of those people you feel like you’ve know for years after knowing him five minutes and I’ve run out of George Jones songs and Pogues songs and my songs and i’m really over the gig and then my dear old buddy Marcus (Mertis) shows up all the way from TX with his lovely wife and I’ve had a gin-ricky or two before Marcus gets there and when he shows up he ask Rick “Do you mind if I sit in?” and Rick hands over his guitar and in the hands of someone as talented as “Mertis” it’s a beautiful thing and what was supposed to be an hour of playing with a half-hour break ends up becoming me and Mertis going back and forth singing songs that we’ve written together (“Two Sides to Every Song” “Beer Drinkin’ Girl,” I Want to But I won’t, etc…) and I just love making music with someone who can sing great and harmonize great and play tasy guitar and there we are and it’s one of those “God I wish we were recording this” kind of moments. I mean, we’re both putting some heart and soul into the performance and the drinks are flowing and, did i mention there is not a SOUL in the room outside of us, Christy and Marissa behind the bar?

Not a SOUL.

So Mertis and I throw down at each other and eventually, as much as we would have loved to keep on playing we have to give over the empty room to the next guys and we tear down and Marcus has these friends the Thompson Bros playing down at the Hogs Breath and have I seen them? NO, Well I have to see them and I will be blown away, and so Marcus and Kristy and I make our way down Duvall St and I remember having a good workable buzz going on at ttis tima and me and Mertis gets us some cigars and some beers to walk with and the air is warm and breezy and it’s a beautiful night by anybody’s standards.

We make it down to the Hogs Breath and The Thompson Bros are everything Mertis said they were and more. One brother plays drums and bass and sings while the other plays great guitar and sings and they sing great together and they have some great original songs and it just shows to go you how a band like these can get lost in the shuifflle in Nashville..no let’s call it like it is: Nashville has it’s head up it’s ass.

I’m stone cold sober as I write this. Let’s see if I follow through and publish that part…again I’m thinkin’ FUCK EM. Thery won’t admit to being part of the problem anyway.

So.

Did I mention I got divorced?

And did I mention that, at the time I was dating someone who’d broken up with me over the phone a few days previous?

Did I mention I had been married a very long tiime? And that I really liked the girl who’d just broken up with me?

So…

I guess that, deep down inside myself I was in a kind-of-a-bad place. I’m feeling all these conflicting feelings about my marriage falling apart and more confused feelings about my new, newly ex-girlfriend (I’m not really sure I could have even called her that) telling me how she wasn’t on board with the whole long-distance thing and there I am in Key West surrounded by mosty drunk horny people, some of them women and some of these women attractive. Very attractive.

I should also mention that part of the whole “I don’t know if I’m onboard for the long distance thing” translates into “I don’t know that I trust you out there on the road in places like Key West, surrounded by drunken horny people, some of them women, some of those women attractive women.” A valid concern. One that ate at me. Not so much because I didn’t think I could behave or that I wanted to misbehave or break a promise. More than I felt that I was expected to break that promise and that I hate to ever live up to someones lowest expectations, so while I was ostensibly a single man, I was also consumed with the notion that I’d still have the girl I liked if she didn’t assume that I would behave like a dirtbag and that even though I guess I was free to behave however, I didn’t want to behave the way somebody –i thought wrongly–expected me to, I guess the same way if you’re a crack head who’d cleaned up their act you wouldn’t want to hit the pipe after everyone in your family and friends said they believed you had the strength not to.

So you heard about how that dude with “The Golden Voice” went right back on the junk, right?

But I’m not talking about drinking or crack or anything addictive at this point I’m talking about women, and really, more specificly I’m talking about flirting with them and this is one thing that after having been ,married for a very, very long time I don’t know that I’m good at, I mean, anytime in the years that I was with my wife that I thought I might be putting out “flirty” vibe to another woman, I pretty much pulled punches and figured it was good to stay out of trouble and not be complimentary and touchy-feely and never to look them in the eye, and I wonder know what the hell was wrong with me???

So there I am at Hogs Breath and the beer is flowing and there are most definitelty a lot of horny drunk attractive people, some of them women and it seems like everytime I look over toward the bar there’s this one pretty blonde who is staring at me and after awhile i start staring back and there she is staring again and finally —I NEVER do this–I walk over too say hello and she’s like “I don’t know who you think you are but go back to your girlffriend..” (I guess meaning Kristy who’s standing next to me) and for all the blue-eyed-charisma I thought I had she refuses to believe that Kristy is with Marcus and she’s like “Crawl back in your hiole.”

MEAN. very mean. very NOT Into me

The thompson brothers are playing Neil Diamond, but in my mind AC-DC is singing “Shot Down In Flames”

And i carry my wounded ego back to to where Marcus and Kristy are standing and as I walk over somebody grabs my ass and I turn around and there’s a pretty blonde behind these two dudes and I hope it’s her that goosed me and then she’s standing next to me andf I get goosed again andf I vaguely remember talking to her for a minute and thinking maybe my Kavorka’s back and then again I’m just out of practice at this and I feel stupid and I’m back to feeling conflicted about the ex-wife, the ex girlfriend, the fact that I’m in Key West playing cover songs and I’m surrounded by drunk horny girls and some of them are good looking and ya know, I just don’t even feel like putting it out there and by IT I mean my ego and my sense of who I am an I just don’t think I can take getting shot down and looking back at it now, that is a bad place to be and I’m like “Mertis we gotta get outta here” andf me and him and his lovely wife start heading back to Cowboy Bills and I guess we hit another watering hole or two along the way and I’m not thinking about playing again tonight, I’m thinking about women and my so-called career and I’m alternately having an awesome time interspersed with moments of “What the fuck have I done with my life”

I’m sure you all know what I mean..

So Mertis and Kristy and me get back to Cowboy Bills and If I didn’t think I was drunk when I walked on stage, I feel a bit gooned when I go to sing the first song and I mess up a lyric and I slur another and maybe I wasn’t that messed up at the time ‘cause I really do remember this and then I remember once I forget a lyric that it just keeps happening and there I am messing up words and it’s like okay, I am drunk and then there’s Shaker (who’s done this a few times himself, right buddy buddy?..) and he’s got his guitar so loud in my monitor that it’s all I can hear and I’m asking him to turn down and Rocco (DJ) Is egging us both on with the whole “Good God, y’all are a dysfunctional family right here…” and again how drunk could I have been to remember the details like this? But sometimes it’s like that thing–that effect–that results when you know you’re fucked up and you’re trying to act straight and the more you try to act sober the drunker you feel?

Do you know what I mean??

So…Shaker is ignoring me and I can’t hear and I walk over the the monitor board and turn him down myself and he’s laughing at me and Rocco’s laughing at me and I had just finished reading a Christopher Moore novel that day in which one of the characters calls himself “The Swinging Dick of the South Bronx” and I after I turn Shaker down I look at him andf go “I am the swinging dick of this stage muthf*cka”

I have NO Idea what that is supposed to mean.

I was drunk.

I’m sure NO ONE got what I was talking about.

I was sober enough to remember all this shit. And I remember getting done with the set and Rocco giving me the thumbs up. And I remember thinking I need to sober upand I went and got a cup of coffee and a candy bar and drank a couple diet cokes and and tried to take a nap during the hour break before my next set and I remember being in good shape for the midnight set, but it didn’t matter cause I’d run off my earlier audience.

I could tell ya different.

But if most of this shit wasn’t true, what kind of story would it make?

I know I was drunk.

What I didn’t know was that I’d had a booking agaent in the audience out to see me.

Question five on the “Are you an alcoholic” quiz: “Does drinking affect your job or has it caused you to lose a job?”

Um I’m in a band….but. YUP.

So the agent goes back to the dude who referred him (a friend of a friend) and reports what he saw, which is along the lines of what I just told you, albeit not exactky the same as I remember it. And I have some explaining to do and some soul searching to do and I let it really bother me a for a long time. Rick Monroe told me later he had to do some serious apologizing for me… Hell it happened six months ago and I’m just writing about it know,. But I did beat myself up about and I apologized and made vows and I’ll say to you my readers and my audience that I hope you never see me like that again and I hope you don’t play money to see me like that, but then again, I have two words for the whole affair:

KEY FUCKING WEST.

If you expect me or any other dude with a job like mine to act like a saint in a location like this then think again.

I wouldn’t do that on a big stage in front of a lot of people.

Hank did.

I wouldn’t do it on TV.

Johnny Cash Did.

I wouldn’t NOT show up ‘cause i got drunk before a gig

George Jones did. Lot’s of times.

So I woke up the next day and there was hell to pay and my Manager and road Mgr had to try and excuse things away for me…..And let’s just say looking back that I was drinking on an empty stomach and that I was tired and on medication and going through a rough time in my relationships and this is all true but what it really comes down to is

I’m in a BAND

Shit Happens.

I hope it don’t happen again.

If I know me it probably will.

 

The Tornado

We stop for fuel somewhere in Arkansas (I think were in AR, I don’t know for sure at the time) and there’s an issue with the gas pumps ’cause the storm has knoocked out the credit card system and the dude at the store is trying to tell me how to swipe my card the right way and according to the diagram on the pump i AM swiping it the right way and after a couple attempts he comes over and tries to help and realizes that it AINT me it’s the system and I go in and pay and for once Shaker and I are trying to make sure that we stop somewhere early enough to get a decent meal so I strike up a converstaion with some other dude who’s fueling up annd he’s askes where we’re from and where we’re heading and I say where we’re from and where we’re heading and he’s like

“I wouldn’t head west right now if I was y’all”

and I’m like

“Why not?”

and he’s like

“It’s real bad that way, If I was y’all I’d find somewhere’s round these parts to get ya somethin’ to eat” and I ask where we might do that and he’s like “well, there’s a Subway (sandwich) right over there” and I’m like

“that’s fine but do y’all have anything that’s like local and not sandwiches and he says

“yup, we got a Mexican place right past’r, ‘cept she might not be open there was a bunch of folks running out of there on acount of the storm” and either way, so far as food goes that sounds good to me so after we get the Ford all fueled up I turn her out on the highway and left into the mexican place and it’s still open and there’s some folks inside and we walk inside and right about the time we do the light go off and then they come on and then they flicker again and I figure “fine, we’ll eat by candle light,” and Shaker’s taking his time getting inside and I walk out and he’s having a smoke and it’s darker inside than it is out and i’m looking off to the west and the clouds are looking awful dark and it’s like they’re starting to come down to the ground and I’m like

“Dude, is that what I think it is?”

And Shaker is just staring at the big black column of clouds and not answering me and having his smoke and I’m like

“Jesus, Shaker it’s a fucking TORNADO.”

And he’s still not answering me and i’m like

“Bro, we need to get inside”

And I start walking into the restaraunt and Shaker’s still standing there smoking and I’m like “C”MON MAN!” and I walk out side to grab him and the Mgr of the restaraunt is now locking the door and I’m like wait a minute!”and C’Mon SHAKER!” and he walks in behing me and I’m like “Do y’all have a basement?” and the answer is NO and I’m like do i get in the bathroom?  center of the building? FUCK, how can there NOT be a basement?  and It’s not like everyone there–and there’s maybe a dozen people–are freaking out but it’s a lil tense and and the one white girl who works there is like “I’m lighting a cigarette right here inside y’all” and she’s obviously nervous and the one white kid who works there is like “can I get you anything to drink” meaning like a water and the mexican guys who work there are all saying basically “holy shit” in spanish and they’re like the mexican dudes i used to work with back in LA—non fazed–and like Shaker just kind of going “wow.” with no exitedness at all in their tone.

I go to the back of the restaraunt while Shaker and a couple of the Mexican dudes stand and the window to watch and I’m like curious while at the same time I’m valuing my life and I’m thinking about what I saw of plate glass do after the Nashville tornando way back when and even if it wouldn’t maybe kill you for sure to have that glass blown out at you it’d be like shrapnel coming at you at over a hundred miles an hour.  So Shaker can stand there and watch.  Screw it I’m in the back ready to get under a table if the walls start doing funny things and I’m back there with a couple old folks and a couple of the unflappable Mexican guys end up coming back too and then we all hear it; that train rumble that aint a train and the smashing of god-knows-what hitting the roof and i’m sitting there acting calm waiting to scramble under a table at any second and i’ll guess the worst of it lasts maybe three minutes and then it dies down a little and I walk to the front and i guess i may have already been texting friends and family and and I realize that I have apps on my phone with weather conditions and one shows that there’s another cell next to the one i think just hit us and i’m asking these ladies where we are and the one gal is saying we’re here on the map and the other one isn’t finding where we are and I ask what town we’re in and it’s Livonia Arkansas which still doesn’t show up on my map and If I have concerns about getting out of here sometime tonight these folks have concerns about finding anything to get out of here and go to…the one old guy in the back with his wife gets a line out on his cell phone finally and he’s talking to somwebody telling ‘em he’s alight and there asking about whether he’ll have electric when he get’s home and he’s like “I ain’t sure if i’m gonna have a home to have electric FOR…I probably have every cow and horse i own scattered across the county by now” and his wife is trying to hold it together but i can see she’s gone from scared to worried to freaked out and I can only imagine how I’d deal with that fear myself and the gals that had been trying to show us where we were on the map are telling us that they both live in double-wise trailers that they expect aren’t there anymore and yet there’s a few people on the road.  Outside in the parking lot there’s a flag flying that has been shredded. Debris is all over the pavement and a large tree has fallen into the road.   Reports from people’s friends are that the highway out of town heading west is closed.  A tractor trailer has been blown over and is blocking things.   Shaker and I get a little more detailed roprt on where the weather’s moving and what’s coming from the west and we decide if there’s no place to stay in town (and there isn’t) that we’ll try and make Little rock and find a hotel for the night.  We say “thanks” and goodbye to everyone and venture out only to find roads overrun with water, albeit only a few trees and none that we can’t get around.

We eventually made it to Lttle rock at around 10pm.

And we actually did find food.

Livonia, my heart goes out to you.

 

Key West

A Month and  a half a go I was in Key West and if getting there  from Nashville isn’t a long enough ride we routed ourselve there directly from Sault St Marie Michegan, which is basically the south side of Sault St Marie, Ontario and being Canada it is of course very far north and very cold and to go from there to very warm, very southern (as southern as you can get in the US)  Key West will confuse your system some and about the time my system got used to spending the days in the sun at the beach watching the powerboat races it was time to leave and go back up north and out west to Pickston SD–as in South Dakota–and the big  question is not only why go so far to play a show and why go to South Dakota if you’re not going hunting (i’d find out from locals that the thing to do here was shoot pheasant and BIG Mule Deer–I like the taste of both and have the appropriate weaponry, oh well, maybe next time)  And how did we manage to route ourselves from points so distant and the answer is:  Gigs fall in place at the last minute and we go where we go because we do what we do.

And so we left Icy South Dakota after two days of playing to small (if not enthusiastic) crowds, and just let me say while I’m thinking about it that we were all a little taken back by the hospitality of the Lakota Sioux people and that we’d love to go back to Fort Randall.

Anyhow.

From South Dakota we had shows back in upstate NY (the night before Thanksgiving)  and that was a fun gig and the Mick Taylor band was flippin’ awesome (they played before us) and then after a nice peaceful Thanksgiving day we played at the Gin Mill and as always the folks there got the crowd out and treated us great and the next night down in Venango, PA was every bit as festive and well attended (I can’t wait to go back to Sprague Farm) and then we rocked 41 West in Fredonia on a Sunday afternoon and were just happy to give a everyone a good reason to drink a nice cold budweiser and buy Jager shots (thank you Brian and Nancy…how many did we have?  Do I want to know?)

On the first day of December we played at the Sportsmens Tavern in Buffalo.  Another of my favorite venues run by one of my favorite people and I want to thank Dwane for taking care of us:  the crowd was a lil thin, but hey, did you see the news that night?  The blizzard made national TV and we were there in person and NO, it was not sensationalized.  We had a God-awful time trying to get out of town after the show (three feet of snow fell in a couple hours)   What you saw on CNN was accurate.  The roads were bad. Visibilty was bad.  We dropped our equipmet trailer somewhere in West Seneca and were happy to make it home.

That was a wednesday.

On Friday the caravan headed east to play the Midnight Rodeo in Manchester, NH We stayed in Albany on the way the gig being on Saturday) and it was beautiful, if COLD in New England but the crowd turned out and the vibe was great and we sold a lot of CD’s which I usually take as a sign that people like us.    Thanks for having us, Debbie and Dave!

On Sunday (the 5th) we played the Wolves Den at Mohegan Sun, and that another one of those great gigs/great venues where you ask yourself, “how did we sneak into this one?”  And for that we have Jesse Roche to thank.  Jesse is a DJ at WCTY in CT and he saw us on Jimmy Kimmel last year and started sticking his neck out for me and singing my praises and I’d like to think we’ve delivered on all the gigs we’ve gotten that stemmed from his involvement:  Blue Lake Casino (Humboldt CA) Indian Ranch (Webster Mass, opening for Charlie Daniels), Mohegan Sun (Uncasville, CT, on our own, on the Big stage)

And I thought it sounded great and we played great and the audience was great and I’d love every gig to be like that….

more later…

Fredonia

After running ragged around Fredonia trying to get a million things done in a day I remembered that I’d forgotten to get extra strings so I turned around and pulled into the “Cool Little Music Store” which really is a cool little music store and it’s owned by an old friend of mine and I went in and there was my old fiddle Teacher, (not that she’s old) and I seriously haven’t seen her in decades and you can’t really catch up in five minutes but it was good to see her and she thinks I’m famous and I’m kind of in a hurry so I get my strings and have to run and I go outside and there’s an old dude fallen down in the street and I mean IN the street and I’m the first one on the scene but in a minute there’s a crowd and me and this other dude figure the guy might be cold so we both take off our coats and cover the dude and we’re trying to ask him if he’s okay and he’s just really out of it and then some other guy comes over and says he’s the dudes brother and he’d just dropped him off for physical therapy and he’d just dropped like a sack of bricks when he’d stepped out of the car. There’s a lady trying to call 911 and she’s still trying to explain the situation to them as the ambulance pulls up and I’m like “They’re already here.” And the EMT comes over and he know’s the guy by name and he’s like “hey buddy, have you been drinking today?” And to be honest I’m thinking okay this dude’s just wasted and do I grab my hoodie back now that he’s sitting up? And he’s still pretty out of it but it’s clear that he’s gonna be fine and I’m looking at my vehicle and the trailer hitched to it and I’m wondering How I’ll get backed out and around the ambulance and all the traffic that has now bottle necked around me but I manage to find enough room to back up and turn down a side street and meet up with Shaker and Hilary and Randy’s running late but we have plenty of time and he shows up after awhile and I realize I need to put some gas in the tank so we stop at the rez and thus far the weather ain’t so bad but about as soon as we get back on the thruway the snow starts coming down pretty good and by the time we’re in Angola it’s really bad out and by the time we’re in Hamburg it’s about as bad as you’ll ever see it and I’m figuring we’ll get to the Sportsmens and play to nobody. Whatever…that’s a minor worry compared to just getting there and what should take 45 minutes takes an hour and a half but we keep the truck on the pavement get there in one piece and this alone has me pretty stressed out…one thing I HATE to do is set up and sound check in front of a waiting audience, so, if it’s any consolation there’s hardly anybody there at the Sport when we show up. Fine. I figure in this weather we’ll play to no one….

We load in and set up and some of our most faithful show up (Thanks Rich, Carol, Charlene, Hilary and her folks…) And we might as well take our time getting around to playing and we do and when we do kick in it’s a relief to hear that the remodel of the Sportsmens hasn’t messed the place up acoustically and it’s a room that you can really hear each other in (as a band) and the night ends up being a great performance (I’m talking about my guys, not myself) played to not-a-lot of people but it’s still satisfying from a self-indulgent standpoint and we all leave the stage to a lot of nice compliments and encouraging words and maybe a few budweisers and then it’s time to once again brave the elements.

And if I never pull a trailer over the skyway in a blizzard again that’ll be fine with me.

There we are. Sliding in the snow and visibility just plain sucks and Shakers shouting directions from the back seat and I’m like “dude, I don’t care if you’re Canadian, I grew up driving in this shit.” And he just can’t stop telling me to not turn the wheel and don’t hit the break and keep up your speed and I’m like “you can walk back to Fredonia in this if you’d like” but it’s just plain shitty out and we’[re spinning our wheels and other cars are sliding and this is most definitely NOT fun and the decision is made to get the hell off the thruway. Then again maybe it was closed in front of us? But we exit somewhere not far from downtown and let me say this: I grew up in Western NY, but I do NOT know my way around Buffalo at ALL. I’ve never spent much time there, and the time I did spend there was a long time ago. So….after getting off the thruway and getting stuck a couple times the weather dictates that we drop the trailer or spend the night in the SUV and I’m really not crazy about leaving a big mobile box with half my life in it parked unlocked on the side of the street, but then again I value my own life and the road conditions are so bad I’m figuring that if we can’t get anywhere with the trailer neither can anyone else and if you could have heard the epithets me and Shaker hurled at each other the last of the half dozen times we got stuck with that trailer on…it’s funny now, it was not funny then, and yes we are still friends.

Thirty minutes south of town the weather cleared right up and, of course the first thing we did when we got back to Fredonia was to find an open tavern and celebrate being alive.

Here’s to that.

Children’s Hospital in LA

In my so-called-career I’ve been asked to do many benefits and I’ve never turned one down (if I’m available) if only because I don’t know how to gracefully say no and this thing at Children’s hospital is not really a charity or benefit at all, it’s Christmas and it’s kids with serious illness and they ask me and sure I’ll sing ‘em Christmas carols, I mean is that a lot to ask? To be honest I’m not a walking volume of christmas music, like you I know the first verse to jingle bells and maybe silent night and I have to hum along after that, I love christmas, and I love kids, but I don’t have kids and it was long time since I was one myself so maybe I’m a bit out of my element?? But I really can’t say no and I figure when they ask me that this will be a little deal and maybe they’ll want me to go around to a few rooms in the hospital and that it’s all low key….

So I show up at Children’s Hospital in LA and there’s a hundred seats set up out in the courtyard and there’s a huge Christmas tree and a big to-do set up and they’ve got a PA and a stage and the TV News is there and they’ve got a celebrity to read “twas the night before Christmas” to the kids. And there’s going to be a LOT of kids, and the administrators of the hospital and the celebrity is Jamie Lee Curtis and the tree-lighting is hosted by the local 6 o’clock news anchor and in a city as big as LA that’s kind of a big deal and they tell me where to stand and when to sing and I’m announced and I sing Jingle Bells and Frosty the Snow Man to all these cute little kids and I try to get them to sing along and of course to kids this is just goofy stuff and they’re all real little and shy and I’m done before you know it and Ms Curtis steps up and reads the Night Before Christmas and she’s pretty great at entertaining the kids and I decide I haven’t been goofy enough so after they light the tree and Ms Curtis and I sing “Silent Night” together (she’s holding the mic and I’m remembering “Trading Places,” and then I go up and sing part of “The Grinch” and some more and I get the kids a li’l more engaged and I’m thanked by a bunch of parents and admin people when I get done and then we go inside and I meet some kids who are really, really sick and maybe I feel a little goofy walking into a room to a bunch of teenagers that don’t know me from Adam and saying “I’m here to play you some music,” but that’s what they asked me to do and it’s heart wrenching to see kids suffering through what these kids are suffering through. I meet this one young girl who’s in the advanced stages of a disease that no one can cure and she’s on a respirator and I play her some Keith Urban and according to the nurses this is the first time she’s smiled in a long time.

She’s in a hospital, attached to all these machines, she’s very, very sick and she’s alone.

Maybe for a minute she felt a little less pain.

I had an awful lot of people thank me for visiting, like it took all this effort and a sacrifice on my part.
Not so much.

I’m not sure I’m the most spiritual dude in the world but I did get raised in the faith and washed in the blood and I know there’s something in proverbs about not “hiding your light under a bushel basket,.” and in essence, it’s certainly not pleasant to witness someone else’s suffering but if there’s a point to God’s odd sense of justice I’m thinking that you walk away from experiences like the one I just had with a little more thankfulness for what you have and some humility and admiration regarding how some people, some kids, can face all kinds off really tough, serious stuff while you’ve stressed about trivial shit.

I gave a little and received much.

And I am thankful.

That’s all.

The Road

Well after months of things mostly going smoothly and not-breaking -down on the road I guess it was inevitable that my/our luck would change and the trend began somewhere in South Dakota when Shaker and I pulled out of a filling station and looking in the rear view mirror noticed that the trailer was riding on the axle and the right-side leaf spring we’d broken a few months back whilst in Georgia was now matched by the one in my drivers-side mirror.

SHIT!!

I would have said months ago….and I’m not saying I didn’t stress (maybe just a lil bit), but I certainly did not get too bent out of shape and if got a maybe-a-little sideways about the issue it was only for a minute and I don’t know where my relative calm has come from (emphasis on “relative”) but I’m better than I used to be and I maybe just have a little more faith in the universe and it would have looked really idiotic for me to get in a tizzy about the broken spring—and maybe I didn’t freak out too much ‘cause I know now from having broken two of them that the repair bill on the job ain’t so bad and that if you can find a trailer parts store that the part ain’t too hard to find and sure enough we were close to a trailer dealer and they didn’t have it but there was another store less that a mile away and yes, they had the part and they didn’t sock it to us on labor and they got us in and out in 45 minutes (hell we even made the gig on time) and I just want to say publicly that if you ever have a breakdown in the midwest that the guys at Hawk truck and trailer will take good care of you and if it’s not fun to have a breakdown it’s certainly not that big a drag when you get things fixed, and fixed right and at a fair price.

SO….

Shaker and I got to the gig on time and the band played two nights at the Fort Randall Casino without incident and were well taken care of and after dropping Shaker off at the Sioux Falls Regional Airport I had the oh-so-fun occasion to drive the 1000+ miles back to Western NY and at least the weather wasn’t bad—I didn’t hit rain til Ohio–and if I complain about driving 22 hours to get home from a gig just smack me upside the head, okay? I play music and get paid to do it and I haven’t had to go to a 9-5 job in a verrrry long time….okay lets’ say I get paid to travel and the playing music part is free.
So I make it back to WNY and we have some good shows: The Jamestown Ice Arena gig goes well; Mick Hayes was awesome (he played before us….and oh yeah, BIG Thanks to Mike Ferguson at the Arena and to the Jamestown Jets and to Deb Yoakam and Dan Warren and all at WHUG) and the gig at the GIN MILL was (and I’m starting to get used to this) off the hook (as always HUGE thanks to Ed and Maribeth for taking great care of me) and I forget to expect thing to break/and or go wrong and I get up Saturday morning with the notion that I’ll change my guitar strings and I go to the music store and get a pack and come back and start changing them out and a break a bridge peg and in all the years I’ve been playing guitar would you believe this has never happened before (it hasn’t) and of course I don’t have any spares (why would I?) And I go back to the music store and I notice that my running lights aren’t working again (okay—that was another glitch on the ride home from SD) but thankfully I know what the issue is (thank’s Randy Hofgren for the diagnosis) and it’s an easy fix: just a blown fuse (don’t know why that’s happening, think it has something to do with the trailer) but when it happened the first time Randy knew what to check and I checked what he told me to check and found and auto zone easy enough and replaced the fuse and was on my way and never got stressed about the situation.
So from the music store I go to the Auto Zone and I get more fuses and pull the blown ones and replace and I go to walk around to the back of my vehicle to check and see if things are working and—I never had that moment of apprehension when you close your care door that maybe you’re about to regret the act, and I guess I closed the door myself and walked to the rear of the vehicle and sure enough when I walk back around the door–all the doors–are LOCKED.

The engine is running.

I have no spare key.

I could really be freaking out right now: I have what I’m thinking is going to be a good new venue to play at tonight. This venue is at least an hour away. The clock is ticking…

My cell phone is IN the car.

No biggie.

I go inside and ask if I can borrow their phone and I call triple A. “Sure, we’ll put you on priority and have a driver there in no time, prob a half hour or less, wait outside if you can and wave him in when you see the wrecker.”
So I go back outside and wait. And I wait. And I wait some more and I know how when you’re in a hurry it’s seems like every little thing takes a long time but after what seems like at least 45 minutes of standing in the cold I come back inside and ask “Does it seem like I’ve been waiting 45 minutes or so?”

“At least,” says the dude behind the counter who was kind enough to let me use their phone.

“Would ya mind if I used that phone again?”

And it’s “no worries,” and I call triple-A to see where the wrecker is and they say he’ll be there in 15 minutes or less and I go back outside in the cold and wait a good half-hour (not complaining about AAA–by-the-way…they’ve saved my day many, many times) and finally the dude shows up and I know my vehicle is not an especially easy one to break into without breaking windows but takes the dude a good 15 minutes to get ‘r done and now I am definitely pushing the arrival time envelope and I go thank the AAA guy and go back and grab my guitar (which BTW has no strings on it at the moment) and get on the road to see that YES I’ll need gas, and now that I have the more major issues handled I realized that I have not really eaten today and that I am very, very hungry and that these issues will have to be addressed– arrival time be damned–and that with road conditions being a bit sketchy (there’s ice here and there) that yeah, I’ll be lucky to make it on time and I don’t really know my way (I don’t have an exact address) and I really wanted to make this drive in broad daylight and to quote Bob Dylan it ain’t dark yet but it’s getting there…

So I guess I drove right past the venue on the first try.

The venue is a micro-brewery-housed-in-an-old-barn-out-in-the-country called the Sprague Farm and Brew Works. The Sprague’s–Brian and Minnie–are a very, very nice couple I met while playing at the Gin Mill (they claim to have been there on research) and after I suspect I’ve gone to far I call the barn and get Brian on the phone and yes, If I’m in the town of Venango I have indeed gone too far…So I turn around and Brian is waiting by the road to flag me in (funny, I didn’t see the neon beer mug on the side of the barn on the first time by). And I walk into just one of the coolest venues I’ve played in a while. The Barn is rustic, has character and best of all it’s pretty dang FULL. And I hustle all my gear in with the help of some of Brian’s friends and I get it set up quick enough (thanks Bill Kuhns). and last but not least I plug in my guitar and the tone is just awful.…the nut had fallen off the neck when I’d pulled the old strings off and nothing but string tension is holding it on and I think maybe I put the bridge on backwards and all I know is my beautiful guitar sounds like ASS.

I have a room full of people waiting for me.

I have anxiety dreams that look exactly like my current reality.

So after a few minutes Brian comes by and asks if every things okay? I was supposed to start at six o’clock. It’s now a little after and he’s totally cool it’s just that he can see that I’m stressed out.
I’m not freaking out. But the stress is on my face and I know it.

“I’ve got a guitar you can use,” he says.

“Awesome,” says me.

And he goes and grabs the guitar and it’s a nice enough acoustic but I plug it in and there’s no sound coming through the PA.

There are people waiting. The room is now quite full.

After a few minutes I give up on Brian’s guitar and plug mine back in and it still sounds like ass but it’s all I got and the show must go on so I launch into “Honky Tonk Life,” with a little explanation of why I’m late and ya know, sometimes I just know when I’m going to like an audience and this is one of those times and I get to the end of the song and the applause is overwhelming and it only gets better as the night goes on…ass-sounding guitar or not.

I ended up playing FOUR encores.

And the conclusion is: it ain’t always easy, but I LOVE what I do.

Thanks so much Sprague Farm and Brew Works, Brian and Minnie and to everyone who came out. You gave me a great ending to a “country Song” kinda day.

For more info on Spague Farm and Brewery visit www.sleepingchainsaw.com

 

Behind the Scenes at Bamajam & CMA Fest 2010

Just in case you missed out on BamaJam 2010 or  CMA Fest 2010, here are some videos that will give you a behind the  scenes sneak peek at what went on and might convince you to attend next  year!  If you were there this year, they should help you reminisce about  the great time you hopefully had. Enjoy!

 

Another List: Ten Beaches

Okay, so I just got back from CA and did a little surfing and spent some time in the water waiting for waves and thinking about stuff and I reminisced about the beaches I’ve been to and I’ve been to many: I traveled a lot during and just after college and I’ve been to some cool and strange locales and I thought I’d share…so, not in any particular order here are some of the coolest beaches I’ve surfed at, drank beer, got some color at, etc…

1. Ios, Greece. Greece has a ton of islands surrounding it’s mainland (if you didn’t know) and I’ve been to a bunch of them and when you’re 20 (years old) Ios is about the baddest spring break beach on the planet. Neighboring Paros is a bit more my speed now…I rented a motorcycle there and got lost—very lost—on purpose, years ago. I’d love to do that again.

2. Penticton, British Columbia, Canada. Most folks I know in the south where I live would probably never think of Canada as beach country. I was in Penticton BC in Late August years ago. Coming down from the mountains where it was snowing I was surprised to find the temp in Penticton to hit a solid 80 degrees Fahrenheit and the scenery and climate had me thinking I was in central CA.. In fact. Penticton is Canada’s version of Napa Valley. I’d go back there too.

3. Primorsko, Bulgaria. Primorsko is a beach resort on the Black Sea. I remember the weather being great, the pizza had ham and eggs on it, the beer was very good and there were more beautiful girls with long legs, olive skin and blue eyes than anywhere else I’ve ever been (that’s right, in Bulgaria) Beware of the local version of moonshine called “Rakia.” It will put a serious hurt on ya.

4. Presque Isle, PA. Another place that the rest of the U.S. forgets about when it comes to beaches is the Great Lakes. I’ve driven along the shores of the U.P. in early winter and I bet theirs are nice to, but so far as Lake Erie beaches, Presque Isle is the nicest I’ve been to. Sunset bay in NY is cool as well, but if you just want to chill (and maybe even surf..you can do that here to believe it or not) Presque Isle has great sand, nice scenery, it’s clean and it’s just about the closest thing you’ll get to being at the ocean with going to the ocean.

5. El Pescador, Malibu, CA. A nice state park beach north of L.A. Surfing conditions usually so-so, but I think I caught one of the waves of my life here. Comparably much quieter than the majority of the public beaches in L.A. Great place for a picnic basket and a boom box.

6. Fort Zachary Taylor Beach, Key West. Because Key West doesn’t have a lot of beach (that’s accessible)…when isn’t the weather nice here? A great place to sleep off a Key West hangover (not that I have…)

7. Biarritz, France. I went to Biarritz for the sole reason of surfing. I found an awesome hotel right on the beach that was dirt cheep and cool as hell (okay it was the off season) Biarritz has scenery (castles) History (German gunnery’s from WW!!), great waves ( it was well over head high when I was there) and good vibes amongst the tribes ( I remember holding conversations in the water that had to be translated from Spanish to French to Japanese and every body knew the hand sign for “hang loose”). Must go there again someday.

8. Folly Beach, SC. I love the low country. Locked my keys in my truck the first time I surfed Folly and the local sheriff spent an hour getting my door open; said he appreciated the opportunity to learn how to pick the lock on my make/model. Great people, good vibes, decent waves, miss the place.

9. Hopetown Beach, Abacos Islands, Bahamas. Went there on my honey moon. Yeah, I surfed too. Clear warm water. Empty Beaches. Kalik beer. Awesome.

10. Gulf Shores AL. I’ve only been here in November, but what a great time to go. Laid back, inexpensive…I’ve had awesome times at the Florabama Lounge I just wish I remembered….

Barney Goes For A Surf

Once upon a very long time ago I used to live in California, and when I used to live there I lived in Santa Monica in this little duplex guest house that Renee (then girlfriend, now wife) and I shared with this dude named Bobby and Bobby was kind of a burnout but according to Bobby’s brother Tony, Bobby had once been a really good surfer and Bobby had all these surfboards and after I’d lived in the duplex a little while I bought a board and a wet suit from the guy and I spent about a month of going down to the beach at El Porto and getting pummeled before finally standing up one day and I only figured out later how hard I’d made it on myself trying to learn on the small board I’d learned on and I found out later that Bobby had not only been a good surfer he’d been a pro and had not only won some contests he’d been on the cover of some magazines and had been kind of famous-–I only ever saw Bobby surf once back then and at the time he had about the best aerials on a short board I’d ever seen and I saw him in the water at Topanga last year and before I recognized him (it had been many, many years) I said to myself “shit, that old guy shreds..” And he still surfed a short board and I’m guessing he’s pushing mid-fifties now and had put on thirty pounds but the dude can still rip.

I lived in CA long enough and surfed enough to feel that I was pretty good by the time I moved to TN and I remember how I went through withdrawal over surfing for the first year I lived in Nashville. A swell would hit the east coast and I’d think nothing of driving 9 hours to catch some waves. The chop would kick up on lake Erie when I was visiting my folks in the summer and I’d stay in the water all day. I took my board on my honeymoon in the Bahamas, surfed in France, VA Beach..for someone who lived so far away from water I was still pretty hard core.

In the last few years I’ve kept up a tour schedule that has kept me away from home most of the time and out of the water and out of shape. I caught a few waves on Lake Erie last fall, caught a few in LA when we filmed my first video there last spring and other than that surfing has not been on my plate or in my mind much.

So it was a pretty cool to come out to LA last week and find that I had a surf session all set up for me. Thanks to Julian at nextmusic I had a board waiting for me at a friend of his house, and a bunch of Australians ready to take me around to some secret spots they knew of in the south bay. Julian had it all arranged: directions to the friends house, directions to the Aussies apartment, phone numbers, time to be there etc…and I got up early Friday and drove down to Manhattan Beach and followed the direction s to Alains house (the dude with the board(s) and woke up a bunch of very hungover Aussies and got a board to ride–- a smallish epoxy longboard– and I went on down the road to Hermosa and introduced my self to Julian’s friends Adam and Aiden and Glenn and these guys live in this awesome pad right on the strand and there’s some decent enough waves peeling right in front of us and it’s “why drive?” and so we suit up and paddle out and I learn that you can’t duck dive with an epoxy long board and that these waves that don’t look so big when your on the beach can really work you over when your trying to get beyond them and my shoulders start burning from the paddle in about a minute or two. I’m out of shape and I’m getting the shit kicked out of me by the ocean. After ten minutes I get past the breakers finally and I’ve already gone over the falls twice and I’m totally out of steam and I’m trying not to look like a total Barney to the Aussie’s. Adam is on a boogie board and pulling into some nice little barrels and Glen is riding a small thruster and shredding and I’m there too worn out to pull into anything and when I do the wave jack’s up so fast that I can’t get to my feet and then I’m back in the impact zone again and I’m getting worked again and the shoulders are killing me and I’m about as Barney as they come and it’s twenty minutes before I’m past the breakers again and the guys are offering to paddle my board out for me and I’m feeling like a total choad and I pull into another wave and it’s me on my knees again and back in the impact zone again and me getting clobbered and I ride the shore break in and try and suss out the best way to get around the break and there really isn’t one and Adam suggests I try Eskimo-rolling if I can’t duck dive and I have been trying to get this move down but it was never really apart of my repertoire back in the day but I get the board over my head and flip over and start to get kind of good at it and I get past the break and catch my breath and wait for the wave I want and pull into it and again it jacks so fast I get to my knees and then I’m back in the slam-zone again and I’m like “fuck it, this is not fun.” And I ride the shore break in and we all call it a morning.

I had some eggs and coffee with the boys down by the pier and they’re all good dudes and have that Aussie sense of humor and that Aussie love of beer…

”shall we go to the pub?”

(It’s 11am)

Thanks guys, I think I’m going home…

And on the drive back to Inglewood I got to thinking that I regret not surfing more the last year I lived in LA and that I really had nothing that needed doing so urgently today and I thought I might as well drive right past my sisters house and see what the waves were doing at some of the point breaks north of town and If you don’t know this about surfing I’ll explain that typically a point break wave jacks up a little slower than a beach break and when you’re feeling old and out of shape that’s a good thing cause it means you get a little more time to hit your feet and the other thing about a point break is that the way the wave peels at a point allows you to paddle around the impact zone which means you don’t have to be able duck dive or Eskimo roll and I drove all the way up to County line and there were some nice small peaks peeling around the point and I remembered why I always liked this spot back in the day and I suited up and paddled out and this time the paddle out was a piece of cake and I was out for less than five minutes before I scratched after a wave and got the board moving down the face and sprung to my feet and made the drop and made the turn and came up the face and turned and repeated that a couple times before the wave closed out and remembered “yeah, that’s how it’s done” And I paddled out past the kelp to the first break and caught some nice long rides and the sun was shining and the surf was clean and consistent-–if not very big–-and it was good for my soul.

Thought I’d share.

Peace and good vibes

Sean.