i am...

napoleon dynamite. he is my new cult hero. if you have not seen the movie, you simply have to. deadpan, dry, and hi-larious.

"but my lips hurt real bad, kip!"

happy halloween, folks!

"i caught you a delicious bass." 

comes a time

y'know what: this blog needs a change, but i don't know what kind. format? content? subject matter (more or less of me)?

granted, it's been a very busy semester thus far and i haven't been able to post as often as i'd like. but, still, i feel stagnant when i do post and i don't know why.

suggestions? anyone want to see more fishing/librarianship/adventure writing? less songwriting? something else entirely?

i don't want to end this blog, but i want to do something different with it for a time. comments welcome. use the blog, email me or call me (for those who have my number).

thanks...

dw

new one

i'll try to put this to rf's latest mars volta style opus tonight. don't know if it'll work, but we'll see.

stop blinking

the sweet smell of moldering hay
under woodsmoke and a chill rain
it smells like a girl you once knew
it smells like a girl you once knew

2 packs of sugar and coffee black
your sleeves cover most of your hands
you try to move but walking won't do
you try to move but walking won't do

the rain the cars the streets the bars
the sidewalks cracked and sinking
the rain the cars the streets the stars
you look up and can't stop blinking

at night the buses rumble past
on their way to nowhere fast
the dogs sniff black diesel fumes
the dogs sniff black diesel fumes

and the buildings they move in the breeze
and history it don't mean a thing
and i'm no longer talking to you
i'm no longer talking to you

the rain the cars the streets the bars
the sidewalks cracked and sinking
the rain the cars the streets the stars
you look up and can't stop blinking

perfect day

i went to fish the bear river above the town of yampa on saturday (the bear river is one of a few streams that make up the headwaters of the yampa river). and holy crap was it beautiful. i had a meadow in late fall all to myself, below snow-capped peaks, not a cloud in the sky, just warm enough for short sleeves, and some very challenging fishing - which i did pretty well with, i must say.

at its widest, the bear is maybe one and a half car lanes wide. add to that the fact that the water is gin clear, there wasn't any tall streamside vegetation this time of year, and its flow is pretty slow - basically, the trout can see you coming from a mile away. i basically had to circle way out and around promising stretches, approach from behind (trout feed facing upstream), hunker down like i was in combat, and start casting.

i caught six fish, and i was on my knees for every one, being mr. stealthy - i hardly stood all day.

they were all wild trout - mostly 8-12" browns, and a couple of brilliantly colored and beautiful brook trout (one that was about 9 inches, the biggest one i've ever brought in). the highlight of the day was a 14 or 15 inch brown that took my dry fly - the only take on my dry fly all day. i can't imagine fish get much bigger than 14 or 15 inches in that river.

healthy, beautiful fish in a healthy, remote, and beautiful river. the american west isn't as f*%ked up as i thought.

right on.

i am astounded and dumbfounded...

at how freaking brilliant this song is. it's by bright eyes, and it's on the album "i'm wide awake, it's morning."

a love song that's a protest song for 2 verses?! with emmylou harris singing harmony?! and a battle march of a horn solo?!

wow.

landlocked blues

If you walk away I'll walk away
first tell me which road you will take
I don't want to risk our paths crossing someday
so you walk that way I'll walk this way

and the future hangs over our heads
and it moves with each current event
until it falls all around like a cold steady rain
just stay in when it's lookin' this way

and the moon's laying low in the sky
forcing everything metal to shine
and the sidewalk holds diamonds like a jewelry store case
they argue "walk this way," "no, walk this way"

and laura's asleep in my bed
as I'm leaving she wakes up and says
I dreamed you were carried away on the crest of a wave
baby don't go away, come here

and there's kids playing guns in the street
and one's pointing his tree branch at me
So I put my hands up, I say "enough is enough"
if you walk away I'll walk away

and he shot me dead

I found a liquid cure
for my landlocked blues
it will pass away
like a slow parade
it's leaving but I don't know how soon

-solo-

and the world's got me dizzy again
you'd think after 22 years I'd be used to the spin
and it only feels worse when I stay in one place
so I'm always pacing around or walking away

I keep drinking the ink from my pen
and I'm balancing history books up on my head
but it all boils down to one quoteable phrase
"If you love something give it away"

A good woman will pick you apart
a box full of suggestions for your possible heart
and you may be offended, and you may be afraid
but don't walk away, don't walk away

We made love on the living room floor
with the noise in the background from a televised war
And in the deafening pleasure I thought I heard someone say
"If we walk away, they’ll walk away"

But greed is a bottomless pit
And our freedom's a joke, we're just taking a piss
And the whole world must watch the sad comic display
If you're still free start runnin' away

'cause we're comin' for ya

-horn solo-

I've grown tired of holding this pose
I feel more like a stranger each time I come home
So I'm making a deal with the devils of fame
Sayin' let me walk away, please

You'll be free child once you have died
from the shackles of language and measurable time
And then we can trade places, play musical graves
till then walk away walk away walk away walk away

So I'm up at dawn
putting on my shoes
I just want to make
a clean escape
I'm leaving but I don't know where to

I know I'm leaving but I don't know where to

a new incarnation of big pants

last night was the first big pants practice in 2 months. the time off was good, because i was so pissed about the circumstances surrounding our last show that i hardly played or wrote at all for those 2 months. the fishing thing may have had a little to do with it, but mostly i think i just wasn't having fun with music during that time. which is the first time that's happened in about 6 years.

so last night's practice was, in a word, inspired. it was just brett and russell and me because our new (hopeful) bassist couldn't make it. we didn't bother with learning any covers, but instead worked at putting some of my lyrics and melody lines with some really cool chord progressions russell had come up with. and one of those combinations worked really well. music is fun again, and we have a new focus on original material.

but here's the thing - i wonder if we should continue as big pants, or change the name? i mean, we're dropping a bunch of songs, learning cool and obscure new covers, focusing on original material, and trying to get away from that grateful dead bar-band thing.

what do you all think? i sure would appreciate some band name suggestions in the comments section. have at it.

to inspire you, below is a list of all-time bad band names russell found on a website. my favorites? jehovah's witness protection program, or skeptic tank.

have a great weekend.

Cancer Bunny
Cannibal Elvis
Fear of Clowns
Gringo Star
The Grilled Cheeze Fiasco
Hamster Sandwich
Immaculate Infection
Jehovah’s Witness Protection Program
The Minstrel Cramps
Nat King Colon
Not Drowning, Waving
Pamper the Madman
The Pro-Midget Mafia
Rage Against the Coffee Machine
Rhymes with Orange
Skeptic Tank
The Sphinctones
Tastes Like Chicken
Tumor Circus
Tupperware Death
Uncle Daddy and the Family Secret
Velvet Acid Christ
Was I Naked
Wise Monkey Orchestra

guess we got a little more than i thought. 

ummm, what's going on here?

it is 37 degrees, and it has rained nonstop since noon. except for the last 3 minutes.

3 minutes ago, the rain turned to big, sloppy snowflakes.

thank goodness, it is now back to rain.


i am not ready for this! there are still fish to be caught!! it's october 4th!!! make it stop!!!!

mad creek

grit and twang and corrugated tin walls
the creek will swallow the barn some crimson colored fall
she's scared of bridges and terrified of dolls
but that doesn't mean a thing up here

where the clouds float past and the night is clear

sometimes virtue is a signal in a telephone wire
and that thing you promised overrides desire
in dreams that old house becomes your effigy on fire
but that doesn't mean a thing up here

where the clouds float past and the night is clear

so hit the tremolo bar and forget why you came
forget all those roads and forget all those names
forget the moments that made you feel ashamed
because none of that means a thing up here

where the clouds float past and the night is clear