Snow-- Yay!

What happened? I tell you what-- my powers people. I have been squinting up my face all week transmitting my snow vibes, and-- voila! The ice at the trail has been really pissing me off. When it's really hard and smooth, even with the yak tracks on (these stainless steel coils on the bottom of your shoes that give you more traction) I feel like a dog with too long toenails-- scooting around corners. Maybe now some bikes will go pack all this down and by tomorrow it'll be perfecto again. (transmitting perfect trail vibes now) (>.<) Isn't this sign cool? It's the same sign in my story that marks the entrance of the secret hideaway, forgotten, bootlegger resort/ hippy enclave where most of it takes place. It's even called "Hubbard's Sunshine Resort".

This is cool too huh? It's out in the woods by the river. Supposedly some guy was going to log out some trees a long time ago and his truck just died there. Another freaky thing about my story-- I was talking to my cool artist neighbors (who've lived here forever and who we share the big woods with) and I told them my story's setting was a place like where we live, but lots bigger, and the site of a big old resort. They looked at me all weird and were like, "You know this was a resort at one time right?" No. Way.

They showed me some old foundations out in the woods where there had once been cabins, and there's old bottles and junk all over down here and up along the bluff. That's not even the freakiest thing.

The day after I read my crit partner a scene where a major character dies, there was a news story about a guy found in some river up in new england. They weren't sure how long he'd been in the river (he was just bones wearing a coat by now), and he had on a backpack full of rocks, with just one photo inside. This is almost exactly, exactly the deal with my guy. She said she got the big time chills when that happened. Sometimes I wonder if that guy's name was Dave too.

Cosmicness abounds.

In other sue News-- apparently my musical idols have banded together to try to crush my dreams this week. First Dan's album, while "good", wasn't the head exploding rock-fest I'd been looking forward to, then last night--- the White effing Stripes reunited for Conan's last show. When they announced it I literally squealed and grabbed Dan's arm with my talons of excitement. I'd been pestering him for another back rub, using my usual argument -- "Hey, a lot of people would pay good money to rub my back buddy" (this only works once in a while) and when they announced The White Stripes it was a total surprise and I went wild.

After spazing out about Jack White for about ten minutes I jokingly said, "Ok Stripes, don't embarrass me." (Because Dan isn't that into my music and was all -- "Who?") Then Meg stands there in this hideous-beyond-belief Mama Cass get up, playing her little red guitar like it was her first lesson. They did one of their mellowest songs ever-- badly, no drums (um-- hello-- did anyone tell you guys you're The White effing Stripes?) and Jack kind of croaked unenthusiastically looking like he'd rather be getting a colonoscopy. Thanks guys-- for making me quit wishing you'd get back together. Go Racs.

As far as my own actual life-- writing-wise I have about 20 k left to go on the revision. Art-wise, this weekend I want to finish the birch commission. I'll have to work like mad but I think I can do it, and I want to finish my revision (this pass of it) by the end of next week (plus I want to get in a full run of the trail sometime next week, all four sections). There's a Grandma day in there too (I promised her another "date".) I'm still fresh enough where this just sounds cool, not exhausting. Right now I feel like there is so much waiting for me, so much I want to do. Wow, an energy buzz and I haven't even had caffeine yet.

Think of any new stuff you're going to try this spring/summer yet?

I Got Yer Rock Right Here

Hey People-- welcome to Fav Music Friday. I had been planning, for months, for this to be the post where I featured Dan Auerbach's new album "Keep It Hid", but, it was rather disappointing to me in its lack of head-whippage. Sorry Dan-- Still love you though. (But get Pat back in the studio.) (It's not that it isn't good, just not what I was looking for.)

So-- you remember me talking about Buffalo right? Well, amid all the weirdness there I stumbled on a secret treasure trove of vintage vinyl.

There are hundreds of albums dating back to the fifties-- most from the sixties and seventies.

Some are scratched, but they're only asking about $7 per, so if you even just want the awesome covers, it's probably a good find. They're hidden in this unlikely looking antique store that totally smells like old lady closet. No one would ever suspect. I picked up a cool shirt there that's kind of Jack White meets Howdy Doody too. Email me if you want deets (on the vinyl not the shirt).

Houses of the Holy for $7?! Come on man!

Anyway, today's selection is kind of a tribute to those older bands. Oasis has been rocking it hard for about 14 years. They're a Britt outfit run by the Gallagher brothers. Frontman Neil Gallagher is well known for volatile "Rock Star" antics, and they're sound feels big to me. When I hear them my ears prick up the same way they did when I heard Robert Plant's pre-Allison Krause solo hit "Shine It All Around" on the radio the first time. (Not realizing it was him-- insert glowy halo effect and sustained harmonic choir note.) There was some kind of intentionality to it, and quality that made me go-- "This person knows their shit".

I'm NOT comparing Oasis to Robert Plant. I'm just saying they remind of that seventies big rock sound. I picked "Bag It Up" because I love the line "someone tell me I'm dreaming, the freaks are rising up through the floor". It reminds me of the ghosts in my writing.

Enjoy the vid-- which is a fan vid but has lyrics. Complete lyrics after the jump. (Scroll down)

Lyrics to Bag It Up :

Gold and silver and sunshine is rising up
Pour yourself another cup of Lady Grey
Take my hand in the meantime, when you've had enough
You'll find me on the end of a runway, babe

Tell the world that you love them in a melody
Send my old piano and a telegram
Gotta get me a doctor with a remedy
I'm gonna talk a walk with the Monkey Man!

Someone tell me I'm dreaming
The freaks are rising up through the floor
Everything I believe in
Is telling me that I want more, more, more

Lay your love on the fire when you come on in
I got my hee-bee-jee-bees in a hidden bag
Tell me what you desire and we'll bag it up, high

Someone tell me I'm dreaming
The freaks are rising up through the floor
Everything I believe in
Is telling me that I want more, more, more

Lay your love on the fire when you come on in
I got my hee-bee-jee-bees in a hidden bag
Tell me what you desire and we'll bag it up, high

Shine a light on your fire when you come on in
I got my hee-bee-jee-bees in a hidden bag
Tell me what you desire and we'll bag it up, high

Wurkin'

Hey people-- Behold the SuckWOW. It's 99% done. Yesterday I did a lot of cutting and what I did on the bench top as shown went fine, but when I hung the steel out over the edge and tried to work that way it wasn't sucky enough and the room filled with metal dust and fumes. Boo. The next modification will be cutting a couple of slots on the sides I can close off with magnetized "doors". But admit it-- awesome no? Tadaaaahhhh!

Here's how the next commission is progressing. Hopefully you can tell it involves birch trees. They're going in that wheel rim. The clients want to mount it on the wall of their sunroom. (These are the very nice Unitarian Wisconsinites who've been waiting for about a year and a half-- I know-- I am suck-- wow.)

Some leaves and a view of the SuckWOW's top.

Work itself went pretty smooth the last couple days. No more fires, getting a lot done, but yesterday was a bit disappointing in the jamming out department. I got myself a little treat and downloaded "Keep It Hid", Dan Auerbach's new album. I listened, and it was alright, but Dan--wtf dude? I still have a face! You DID NOT rock it off.

Apparently, even though you are massively, virtuostically talented, Pat's rock/punk influence on you is a big part of what I enjoy about the Black Keys. (check the player) I can only take this less than rockin' solo debut as a sign you've finally managed to get over me and move on. I get it, you needed to try something totally different, all on your own, to help you get out of your box. This is good, and healthy, even if I don't like it as well as other stuff you've done.

Maybe now we can move into the much more fun bromance phase of our relationship. No more weirdness, just hanging out, goofing around, and sometimes socking each other on the arm affectionately.
Whew.

In other Sue news-- Ray continues to try to poison us with cutosterone. Still up to his evil fuzzy geniusing tricks.

Here he is with Mike (aka Meathooks). Yes, we don't have a sun room, but the cats do. Priorities...

God this is random, but -- too bad, I'm going for it.

So last night I got together with a couple of my arty/writery buddies and they asked me if I'd learned the drum solo from "InnaGoddaDavida" (or however you spell it) yet, and I said we actual drummers, who've had 3 or more lessons, feel huge extended drum solos are a little showboaty and the mark of an amateur. (You know, in retrospect I think they may have been secretly mocking me... ~simmer~)

Anyway, later they asked me about my leg-- how it's been holding up with the running (which I've been pwning lately btw). I said fine and we got to talking about injuries and stuff and I was like, "It's a bone. It should heal by itself." But secretly inside I was picturing myself in some kind of Charlton Heston God get-up thumping my staff booming, "Tibia-- heal thyself!" -- and my tibia sort of quaking with fear and getting on it.

Then last night I had this dream where I was getting a drum lesson from this old Moses-y dude. I busted into this giganto fill and he was all, "NO NO NO! You're not playing the silent beats. Like this--" then he forces my to play just three, painfully slow beats with miles of space between. Hmm, deep? or just trippy?

Oh brain, sometimes I wonder just who is entertaining who here.
Take it easy people. Shake something if possible.

Weird Wed-- Poo- Still Funny After All These Years.

This week's disturbia is actually a reader sumbission. If they want to claim credit in the comments thread I'll leave that up to them.

This is gross, and I can't believe anyone took the time or effort (not to mention how proximate to poo they had to be) to set these shots up. My fav's are #'s 4, 7, 15, & 28.

Take that good upbringing, and, y'know, maturity.

Sprinkle Brigade

View more presentations from David g Smith. (tags: dogs dog)

"Must use powers for good. Must use powers..."

Only a day after wishing for a bike one has shown up-- sis has offered her old mountain bike to me. She has this tragic condition where her legs are freakishly long, so the bike's always been too short for her. Her whole life she's dealt with the socially crippling stigma of being way too tall and willowy-- and blond. I'm thinking of organizing some kind of benefit.

She's overcome her affliction by becoming a giant smart-ass and being kind to animals, so I've learned to look beyond her hideous angularity. See world? If you're smart and funny and an all around good egg you can rise above nearly anything! (wipes tear from corner of eye)

So, any of you who were doubting Gold Pants Power-- take that. UH! Double down-- UH! UH!

In other sue News, I've officially been kicked out of some of the best places around. Finally got the McSweeny's rejection (only about a year after subbing-- wow!). I suppose opening the query, "Dear McSweeny's Editorial Intern (just guessing), I wish I knew something about you so I could personalize this. I feel the fact that we are anonymous, faceless strangers who mean nothing to each other will hurt my chances at publication. Oh wells." was not a good idea. Yes, I was pretty jaded by that point.

Luckily now I'm over it now. Hilariously I subbed my short story to McSweeny's (Who, even though they rejected me, are still way into me, as indicated by the highlighted portion-- ...), The New Yorker, Tin Roof, Glimmer Train, then went. "Oh well. Eff this." Not exactly a shotgun blast approach.

I'm at the beginning of my show count-down timeline. I have six weeks and a commission I have to finish before the show. The plan was for the shop to get done last fall so all winter I could slowly plug away. Didn't happen, so I'm back in the usual mode where I'll have to put in some serious overtime. I really can't stand the thought of dropping my revision for six weeks, and it would really mess with the roll I've been on there.

So I'm going to try to keep all the balls in the air. My life for the next 6 weeks will be jamming-out & welding, running while I let the story roll around in my head (& get my energy buzz on), and writing at night. We'll see how it goes.

Here are some shots of a collage I did of my story world. It's just a visual cue for me. It's setting, and some characters present and future, and vibe. I like looking at it when I can't write. I might keep it in the shop for a while so I can glance up at it occasionally.

OK, time to weld! Think of any daring adventures for yourself yet?

Feats Of Daring Dooodz (and a few chix too)

So, you guys have heard me talk about the mountain bike course, and some of my adventures over there-- my noob attempts to ride it last summer, loosing my keys last fall... I spend quite a bit of time over there. Today I got to check out Pug Fest. As you can see the crazy/fearless mountain bikers don't let something as trivial as winter interfere with their fun. (That's cool trail boss Rich presiding over on the left.) (Click any of these for bigger better viewage)

I was pretty much a voyeur at this event. I don't really know any of these people (aside from Rich who seems to kind of run the place) although I pass some of them on my runs frequently enough to recognize them. They go by cool nick names like, Zilla, Flying squirrel, and Pirate.

I like seeing them doing their thing over there. It's cool, and no one's ever seemed annoyed when they run into me. Ususally they're pretty friendly actually.

So "Pug fest" doesn't involve cute bug-eyed dogs. Pugs are bikes with giganto fat tires for biking in snow (and probably sand). See the difference?

I love finding other people who are outsidey thrill seekers. Basically, if you live where I live, either find some fun stuff to do all winter, be ok with hibernating,-- or please just shut-up about it. Hello-- It's Minnesota people. These guys (and a few chix-- go chix!) Really take having fun seriously and GO for it.

I'm too chicken (so far) to participate in stuff like this. Actually, I'm even kind of a puss about just getting in someone else's way, but I'm flirting with the idea of getting a mountain bike this summer. I've been saving for drums, but my drums might wind up turning into a bike, unless I sell a bunch of art and can do both. ("A-hem--universe?")

Look at them all lined up ready to be all daring. One reason I like seeing them is it makes me feel all thrilly too-- like maybe I could screw-up the courage someday. Heck. Sure I could! (See? Being daring-adjacent has given me this little infusion of bravery. Woo-Hoo!)

Look at these badasses! So cool! Doesn't it make you want to go out and try something new and adventurous?

Last thing like this I was at (by accident-- I didn't know there was a race, was just out running and suddenly "yikes" the woods was full of bikes!) I asked someone how they race when the trail is so skinny and perilous. I guess they have etiquette that dictates you let a faster racer pass you.

I was told, "If someone's gaining on you, they're obviously going faster. The only polite thing to do is move out of the way."

Another rider piped up, "Yeah, and if it's someone new who doesn't get how it works, or hasn't heard you come up on them, you just ask nice, 'Hey, at the top of the next hill do you mind if I pass you?"

So not only are the riders daring and sort of swashbuckley with their cool names and stuff, but they're kind of gentlemanly daredevils too.

Is there anything you've been thinking about trying to get yourself "out of your box"? If you're not doing anything that occasionally scares the crap out of you, you're probably playing it a little safe. Hedge your bets against regret people. Don't be ninety wishing you would have tried more cool stuff out.

Welcome to The Art Biz Kid

The first commission finished in my new shop, completed even before the SuckWOW is fully operational, does not have me busting a champagne bottle on the doorway so far. Let me clue you in on kind of a dirty little secret-- we artists don't really like doing commissions, not really.

A commission is when someone offers to pay you to make something specifically for them. A lot of times it's because they missed out on buying something they saw of yours and are having remorse they didn't pull the trigger for whatever reason. The best kind of commissions are when people have been watching your art for some time, and like it, and how it's been evolving over time and know only that they want "something" from you.

These arrangements give you the freedom to make whatever you want so it removes that "doing what your told" aspect-- which is the thing we really aren't so hot about. The thing is, unless you're loaded, you usually wind up taking the other kind of commission too, no matter how many times you've promised yourself you won't.

Exhibit A:

This is the original sculpture the client saw and liked. I told her it was one I really liked too, and liked the theme behind it so wouldn't mind returning to it, but whatever i made wouldn't be exactly like it. When you buy an original piece of art, it's with the understanding that it's unique, not just one of many cranked out.

This is the one I just finished. The welds and grinder marks aren't rusted yet (they look tons better when they get that artifact look, super rusty around the edges), and the lighting is terrible in this shot, but -- it's done. It elicited an all caps email saying this isn't the one she remembered and "I should know which one she's talking about, after all, I made it" etc etc.

So, after my initial reaction of wanting to deliver it personally to the client's backside, I wrote a polite email back saying my goal wasn't replication of the original, but to work off of that theme of a serene boat on roiling water. The symbolism, to me, is staying centered amid chaos but hey-- it's art, see whatever you want in it.

Now i just wait. I don't want anyone to own any of my art unless they're into it and I've told her it's totally fine w/ me if she wants to just forget it. Once again I'm promising myself I'll never do this again (face-palm), knowing full well if I'm broke enough I probably will.