This is Version 1.0 of the new essay/audio/slideshow project I’ve been working on. What’s this new project about? Well, I think the title speaks for itself. I’m currently referring to its style as “hallucinatory travelogue”. I guess that’s a warning to readers/listeners that this isn’t a conventional essay, blog post, whatever. I may be adding new and updated versions of the text and audio, etc as I get more time to work on it. Yeah, you can say it’s a Work in Progress (“WIP”).
Good Luck and All Best, Joe Frank McClain
AUDIO Version 1.0
Be aware it might be a bit slow to start, so please be patient.
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Slide Show 1.0:
CLICK HERE FOR LATEST UPDATED TEXT VERSION (added on 9-3-2023; The page will be updated as needed until the whole thing is finished, if ever.) This is a standalone webpage of what is embedded below.
HERE IS AN EMBED OF THE LATEST UPDATED TEXT VERSION:
HERE IS THE ORIGINAL TEXT Version 1.0 (Posted around August 29, 2023)
I have to be there by 1645 hrs.. That’s One-Six-Four-Five, FOUR FORTY FIVE Pee EM…. I admonish myself. Sooo… I leave early, before FOUR PEE EM, before 1600 HRS. Maybe it was around, hmm… not sure, 1550 or some kinda time frame like that. I can’t be sure. It was all a whirl.. A daze.. Dazed and confused.. If I’d fallen on the sidewalk or fallen down the stairs, I would have been dazed and contused, bruises all up and down my legs and along spine. Yeah. That’s if I’d fallen on the sidewalk or down the stairs, but… I didn’t.. So…….
Furthermore… this all happened more than a week ago. Shit. I think it’s been almost three weeks now.. Memory is a funny thing, often a fucked-up thing, almost as fucked-up as our tiny little lives on this big blue ball.. I’ve often got big blue balls.. but that’s another thing for another time.. and hell.. who wants to hear my frustrations? I sure as hell don’t. I’m too busy living them.
Anyway…
So…. back to what I was saying…Can you ever truly be sure about what happened two, three weeks ago.. Two, three years ago, decades or whatever? Can you ever be certain of anything if you don’t write it down or keep some sort of record? Hell.. even that’s suspect.. The mind is a bastard interpreter, but at least you’d have your impression of the moment.. And you can always go back.. and reinterpret to your heart’s content if you’re into that kind of shit.
Yeah;
writing and other types of record keeping have stifled us domesticated humans, and not just our memories. It’s all probably taken a big chunk out of our very humanity; our mostly damned to earthly perdition souls, too. Nowadays we’ve got all these gawddamn cell phones and tablets and laptops and other stuff we carry around like second, third, and fourth brains.. .
|||| Fekk!! I can’t remember the name of the lead singer of the 13th Floor Elevators..So.. what’ll I do.. ?? Oh.. I’ll google it right quick; okay y’all? Oh yeah: Roky Erikson. As an Austinite, how can I forget that? I miss him now he’s gone.
Wait.
He died?
Fekk!
I forgot that too…
Was it COVID?
Dunno
Some Austinite, moi. Damn, forgot those vital facts just like the sun meets the dawn. I needed my second brain to bring me back to reality. Or is that my third; or my fourth? I should know shit like that right off the top of my head. Sad day. Sad day. Of course, a lot of Austinites can’t tell you who played all that scorching guitar on David Bowie’s Let’s Dance LP. Now that’s a sorry shit shame if there ever was one; a bloody caballero of the apocalypse. Its a question for the Austin citizenship test:
Number 1:
Who was the singer for the 13th Floor Elevators?
Number 2:
Who played all that scorching guitar on David Bowie’s Let’s Dance LP.
Number 3:
What southern breakfast specialty was the nickname of the lead singer for the Big Boys?
Number 4:
For what other band(s), if any, did said breakfast specialty person sing after the Big Boys?
Number 5:
Where was the photograph on the cover of the Clash’s London Calling LP taken?
Number 6:
What landmark Austin watering hole do the Sheik and the Orthodox Jew hang out in in the Clash’s “Rock the Casbah” video?
Number 7:
Does said watering hole still exist?
Number 8:
What song is The Pool most known for?
Number 9:
Where did Daniel Johnston work sweeping and cleaning the dining area when he lived in Austin?
Number 10:
What was the location of that place where he worked?
Number 11:
Does it still exist?
Number 12:
What was the name of the Crown and Anchor before it was the Crown and Anchor?
Number 13:
Name at least two famous Austin punk clubs from the 80s.
Number 14:
Who is the Red-Headed stranger?
Number 15:
Name at least two cosmic cowboys who are not the Red-Headed stranger.
Number 16:
Who sang “She’s About a Mover”, and where were they originally from?
Number 17:
What is presently the oldest music venue in Austin?
Number 18:
What was the first year of the Austin City Limits musical festival?
Number 19:
What was the first year of South by Southwest?
Number 20:
Who was the undisputed Mayor of South Austin until his tragic death in 2012?
Bonus Question:
How many Californians does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
The day I have to look any of that up on one of my alternate brains will sure enough be one for weeping. I dread that day. Chronological advancement, man.. ||||
Hell.. all those gadgets have pretty much melded with our consciousness.. Fuck.. We couldn’t function without them.. I know I can’t.. I’ve sold my soul to the machine. Singularity?? Don’t get me started…
Okay. So…
Well, to be honest, I did write all this shit down about this bonkers trip up north, this trip WAY UP NORTH that is. I did write it down somewhere, but I forgot that I did until now, and now I can’t remember where I wrote it down. But hey, I think I can pull it all together, piece together the fragments of shattered memories, broken impressions, cracked thoughts, before it all fades away. Maybe I can. Anyway…. I’m gonna give it a shot right here and right now.
|| Calgary: I stop over in Calgary on the way in. 16 hours. Helluva layover, but glorious. It’s 51°F and raining when I step outside the airport. I dance in that fucking rain. I dance in that rain like a madman. I love the huge trees, whatever kind they are, photograph them like I’d never seen a tree before. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such green, lush, beautiful, stately nature not scorched to death by relentless heat, turned to brown, turned to ashes. It is like fall. It IS Fall. It is football weather. No wonder the CFL plays in the summer. I dig this place. I hole-up in a basement for the night for $50 CAD. Morning comes early. Around five the sky glows, the big trees announcing themselves in silhouette. The window that opens up onto the lawn lets in the sweet air. The sky is cloudy. It drizzles. Imagine how early the sun would be up on a clear, sunny day. This is winter I say. This is winter. What strange, wonderful place has such weather in July? ||
Maybe I don’t HAVE to be there so early, I think again, pacing around the AIRBNB; but suddenly, everything is urgent, so I set a hard deadline in my mind, which is spinning. I am high; really fucking high; sort of trippy. Am I tripping? Have I gone full Roky Erikson, a big dumb drooling two-headed dog down the rabbit hole? Ack! There he is again. Gawd rest his sizzling soul. Is this what a trip is like, time and space collapsed and nothing happening in your head but pure acceleration; all scalar with little or no vector; forever expanding, a non-linear laser beam, moving forward, hard, in all directions at once, folding time, folding space? Have I ever tripped before? Sure I’ve tripped over a rug or a rise in the sidewalk a time or two, but have I tripped in a cool crazy soar right through space Syd Barrett kind of way? If I have, I’ve forgotten it. If I haven’t, this has got to be my first trip.
|| Mutha.. Hot fucking french women everywhere around here.. Damn… stop the world and melt with them since they kind of already are melting in my furiously flailing consciousness. ||
Length, width, height, and time. Is this the fifth dimension? No, not Kenny Rogers. Maybe it’s the sixth. Does it matter? No time for definitions and names. Go the fuck with it I tell myself.. Be in the gawddamn moment… my man.. Be here now… Trip on this trip muthahfuckah!!!
|| I’m kinda liking this town though some of it reminds me of Oklahoma City. I guess it’s the red clay or the aubergine brick on the buildings or something like that. Is there a crazy fiend bar around.. Cities like OKC always have weird freak show bars where the freaks go and get totally bonkers drunk and tell strangers stories they’d never tell anyone else lest they be barred from polite society forever, not that there is a lot of polite society in Oklahoma City.
Look!! Curling! There’s another. Damn!! Curling lanes next to bowling alleys. An outdoor store sign exhorts: Get your snowshoes now before the rush.
Shit. It’s late July, August coming in fast…
Guess winter doesn’t fuck around in these parts just like summer doesn’t fuck around where I’m from. ||
Anyway.. Back to the tripping anecdote, I admonish myself again by quoting the band whose gig I slouch toward. I tell my over-thinking, over-abstracting, quickly decaying, must-name-things-brain:
Here I am.. I said Here I am!!! Walkaway.. You’ve had more than your say…
Be here now.. Be here now.. Walkaway brain.. Walkaway. Walk away… Silencio, por favor!
||That morning.. Every morning.. Coffee.. A cortado.. If you don’t know what that is, it’s equal parts espresso and milk, the good fat whole milk.. I saunter down the Boul. Provencher to Café Postal.. I drop my loonies, get my coffee and fizzy water, sit by the front window facing the street and watch St. Boniface go by.. And yes.. Many of the views are fantastic if you know what I mean…. I joke a bit with the cute ‘ristas.. Put some Loonies in the tip jar.. I can’t forget the tip jar.. I must render alms for the cute ‘ristas…Gawd bless’em. ||
Okay.. where was I??
Oh yeah..
Everything is EXAGGERATED; Yes; ALL CAPS EXAGGERATED; a swirling mass of images, sounds, and sensations. It’s Christmas morning on steroids; the anticipation wreaks havoc on every nerve and synapse in my body, and probably everything else around it.. This is not static ecstatic.. This is active, proactive ecstatic.. ..This is Ecstatic Ecstatic. ALL CAPS ECSTATIC ECSTATIC. This is the spark that sets the conflagration… Rockets red glare… bombs bursting… Dopamine running amok.. along with norepinephrine, serotonin, and whatever other neurotransmitters there may be pulsing throughout the human body… In fact, I think my body may be evolving more of them at this very moment.. a sort of spontaneous instant-evolution..a necessary adaptation.. to charge me .. onward and upward into a new realm of experience… a new realm of being….a new realm of reality……Perhaps in my reverie.. I should name these new neurotransmitters.. Of course, I must do this without losing the moment.. …without losing the NOW… Hang on!! Hang on tight to the moment… Multitask!!! I know I can do it… I know I can.. HERE Goes:
Pegamine.. Teganphrine.. Saratonin.. Burtonin.. Manitobamine… Rielinin.. Rockitin.. Concertamine. vipaphrine.. ..or more accurately, V-I-Paphrine.. Assiniboinemine.. Americanwomanin.. Nosugartonightaphrine..
There are likely more but.. But…
|| what’s with this frozen horse myth and the hippodrome and the winter of 1926? Horses frozen midstream in the red river.. Frozen in poses of fear and desperation.. There’s even a beer called Frozen Horse. ||
But okay.. Enough..
I succeed.. Whewff!!! Calm down. That was close… !!! Relief.. Sweet Leaf Relief.. It’s been so long.. Maybe..And now… I’m back; I’m back in the moment..
|| Thanks for the toke my mellow dreads man. ||
THE HERE AND NOW…after that short short stray into vice. I pounce back into.. IT.. into real life.. In real time, as real as hyper altered state time can be, and I do it with all the fucking fervor of Ezekiel’s chariot..
||Spliff man?? Sure. Thx. Youda best, man.. Gotta run.. I’m not late but I gotta run.. Oh shit.. Am I late? …
|| Gotta bit more buzz.. Thx man.. .. a little bit.. It’s mostly the other buzz freak I’m building on… small buzz riding on a big buzz..buzz bit on buzz freak.||
|| The rivers.. Assiniboine, Red, forming La Fourche.. The Fork.. The Forks Market.. Keep walking.. Love this street called Balmoral. Look. There’s Lanark Lane. Oh flower of… ||
The brain amps itself up even more… red orange goes my vision.. Voltage.. Wild pulsing.. Amoebas paramecia..paisley shrouds shrink and decompose explode.. Expand..recompose compose and decompose again..
What?
Amoebas paramecia..paisley shrouds shrink and decompose explode.. Expand..recompose compose and decompose again.
Big bang..
60s psychedelic show.. wow.. I just go with it.. Relax and get into it.. What else can I do? Cumulative spliff buzz freak.. ?? Dunno.. Go with it..
|| miles and miles of river trails ||
|| Cruiser bike. No gears. No brakes. Just the pedal backward kind and come to a screeching halt, something I haven’t ridden in more than forty years. But it is flat, here.. Flat prairie, through the park, through the forest and back again, round and round I go.. All the way out to the end.. And back again; then back out again.. And again happy days.. Happy daze.. Sweet summer breeze.. Park pavilion, canadian flag, winnie the bear.. Look at that big chair… Is that an ox pulling that cart.. Ox cart. Metaphor for capitalist expansion on the backs of the working class. We are that ox. May the ox break free.. She’s cute I thought.. When she brought me that smoked salmon salad.. Really really young.. Teenager.. Maybe… twenty..21?? It’s hot she says.. Darlin’ you don’t know from hot.. Though you may be.. Well. Really. There’s no question. She is. ||
Snap.. snappo snappola.. another hot french lady in my peripheral.. yet the reverie refuses to crack.. Trip trip. Damn St. Boniface sidewalk.. Melting gray, melting flesh. I wanna turn and watch her walk.. Walkaway.. See how she sways, but can’t.. The reverie slaps me silly.. Walkaway. I’ve had more than…
|| baseball.. Minor league baseball.. Angry Fish.. just what is a goldeye, anyway? Front row first base line 30 feet behind first base; $18.50 CAD; I like the game clock. Lots of homers. Home team loses 7-6. ||
I am raging.. Transmissions.. Not controlled, no final countdown, but raving, rampant, joyfully chaotic…– I hear things.. See strobes blasting off my head.. Frequencies of light off the spectrum of sight.. Sound waves carried on frequencies.. Live transmission.. A wobbling Ian Curtis in full spasmodic mode, imagining Annik Honoré writhing on dingy hotel sheets somewhere in the back streets of Eindhoven. We can dance!! I am charged to the hilt..110+ volts zapped beyond all reasonable amperes..
|| Polo Park, I think.. I can cut across Polo Park and be back at the AIRBNB – another basement – in no time. I can eat my Safeway grub and read. ||
A raging circuit ready to blow– I can feel and hear the sparks bolting from my brain -shoom shoom-vroom vroom.. Kachowza!! Wham.. zap zap sizzle sizzle sizzle… – ready to zap anyone who gets too close.. to burn burn burn every object, building, flora, and fauna to ash and cinders.. Goodbye Shaw Park.. Goodbye Human Rights Museum.. Isn’t the notion of a “Human Rights Museum” kind of dystopian? It’s kinda like – oh we had human rights, but now we’re all slaves and sometimes we go to the museum to look at the rights we used to have, and get a bit sad. Ciao big beautiful elm trees canopied over the streets… Oh dude.. Sorry about your cat… oh fuck.. that poor dog…Good to know you Café Postal… You make the best Cortados in North America.. Oops there goes the post office, too.. Au revoir Assiniboine Park.. Burn burn burn the forest too… Canadian Mennonite University.. Sizzle.. burn..… Hasta la vista Winnie the Pooh museum… Shit.. don’t zap that fine lady!!.. Turn turn.. Turn away… damn!! And you too RCMP training center.. ((Damn.. look at that EMT!! Oh.. fire lady and emt.. I love a woman in uniform…. turn away.. Turn away.. 4 gangs are just 1.. No.. just one gang of 4, Chairman M… Mrs. Mao.. The actress the patriot.. The gang.. Of .. four.. The band.. The communists.. The treasonous.. Allegedly..communists..cultural rev rev rev vroom vroom…)) You are quite a building.. Zapp!!!! Zapp!!!! Zapp!!!! Such wonderful red uniforms.. And red brick… I don’t want to destroy.. But in the thick of the shit…. Do I have a choice??
We would go on as if nothing was wrong…
Hide from these days…
|| But it’s not a park. It’s a damn shopping center. I’ve got to go all the way around then wait 15 minutes for a train to pass. ||
…No. No. No.
|| BMO.. the sign on top of the building.. What is that?? Oh.. Bank of Montreal ||
As I said…
|| Exchange District.. Exchange District … wee bars and cd/vinyl stores ||
No drugs.. No drugs in my system.. None at all.. I’m drug free, as always, (well, at least since the mid-90s– I think my last hurrah.. was in Paris 1996.. Last Tango?? Put the butter away! Red wine makes your French that much better.. loosens the tongue, mind, ego, and all that) except for the excessive caffeine from 3 cortados and a big cup of Timmy Ho’s which is just a typical day for me. It’s nowhere near excessive, really.. No.. that’s not excessive for me. But I’m raging like I’ve had 10 cortados, 3 cups of Timmy’s and a big bolt off a big plate of beef…white powdery beef. Why why why so high? Why? I’ll tell you why.. I just know this is it.. This is it. This IS it. This is what I came all this way for..
|| What the hell is up with ol’ Mark Twain?? He looks angry.. Brandishing a newspaper in his hand.. Newspaper?? Somekinda thick rolled-up document.. Looking like he’s taking some big strides right at ya to smack you on the head with that big ol’ document like the bad dog you are.. Why all the anger Sam?? Oh wait.. That’ ain’t ol Samuel Clemens.. ‘Tis not our dear Mr. Twain.. Our man of impromptu river craft and jumping frogs.. Why… That’s a Big ol’ statue of some dude named Luis Riel right here on the river side of the Manitoba legislative building.. Looks like he’s the ol’ geezer who founded Manitoba way back when.. Or so google and wikipedia tell me…. get some pics.. Of it.. Sure looks like ol’ Mark Twain.. Also.. get some pics of the golden boy on top of the dome.. What the hell is he carrying?? An old kerosene or whale oil lamp?? Is that some grain of some type in the other arm?? Forget the golden boy.. Is he naked?? Riel.. what about the real Riel.. Wasn’t Riel some kinda fur trapper?? Beaver killer.. Isn’t St. Boniface just an old french fur trapper town? Maybe all of Winnipeg, too..?? Guess I should read up on that.. When I get a chance.. That is if I don’t forget.. As I walk on down the river trail…||
All the waiting, all the planning, all the money… all the rental car fuckups and airline hassles, the endless waits on the phone to talk to a priceline rep about the refund for the screwed up accommodations, multiple bus rides to the Austin airport all for naught.. Until the final one.. Finally.. Finally.. Hits the jackpot… all the schlepping of carry-on bags and personal items upon planes trains buses and automobiles.. All the colorful plastic cash and loonies plopped down for bus fare and coffee.. – Café Postal; Colosimo; Seven Café; Folio; Timmy’s – The waiting in customs and immigration lines.. Anything to declare..? They ask.. I declare the United States of America an unmitigated hellhole and I don’t want to go back. I hereby seek asylum in this glorious nation of Dorkistan. How’s that? The struggle to figure out just how to scan my passport at the machine in the airport in the hallowed city of Calgary (and hallowed not just for the Robert the Bruce Bannockburn Statue Replica at some tech school somewhere in town) .. ..
|| I try to exit through the right door out of the little grocery with my roasted chicken and feta salad in tow. It’s the one on the left she says from the checkout counter. Oh. Just like the UK I say. She looks at me like she wants to punch me. I wouldn’t mind if she did. She’s cute. I bet it would sting. Might be fun. I am a perv and a spazz. I’ve never been prouder. Poor kid. How many pervs lech on her in their minds day in day out? The more daring and feckless have probably… I don’t want to think about it. I’m proud, but I know I am bad; bad bad bad, and I’d better get back to the AIRBNB before my thoughts manifest and get me detained by the RCMP or interpol or some other huge law enforcement agency, and I’m shipped off to Churchill for the running of the polar bears. ||
All the walks, scouting throughout an unfamiliar city..getting lost and winding up on the wrong side of town multiple times…Despite google maps..and all the other tech and info at my fingertips.. The pickled lime and saag paneer doused in red-peppered plain yogurt, The AIRBNBS.. The Safeway salads.. The man on the airplane straight-faced and unabashed, blaming all crime in Manitoba on the Métis.. They just get drunk and stab each other.. He says.. I just smile.. Sure.. sure.. Whatever you say.. The Earth’s own Almond milk, the glitchy computer systems of WestJet… The screaming kids behind you on the plane kicking your seat, things falling out of the overhead bin onto your head.. Waiting on the bus to the Austin airport in the 108°F heat.. The equally or more smelly and sweaty fellow cap metro passengers.. One of whom barfs up her xanax in the back seat… the man next to her singing Willie Nelson songs badly out of tune and badly misworded.. On the Toad Again.. I can’t wait to lick the Toad Again.. Jesus… McGawd Chryspe!!!! …It’s a rocky Roky road to rock n roll nirvana..
|| The world police olympics are in town.. Or the world police games or something like that..Fuck.. they knew I was coming.. Whole town crawling with puercos..from all over the world.. Damn.. watch your step.. Interpol. I know Interpol is here. They are watching me. They know I’m up to something subversive, and maybe I am in a mild transactional way.. But I’ll keep my head down. Walkaway.||
…has been all for this moment.. The next five or so hours are gonna be epic. I am beyond the point of ecstatic.. I’m ecstatic ecstatic… my pent-up anxiety..… is … ready to explode.. (have I hinted at that yet??) This is it. This IS IT. The big moment.. The moment where it all comes together.. –Or so my shredded mental state tells me..– There’s gonna be some sort of fucking rock n roll rapture… and me and my sisters and brothers will ascend.. And something great starts.. Will we see Jimi and Stevie.. together?? Fingers flying on frets ‘til they burst into flames? Something awesome.. Maybe not that, not that it wouldn’t be cool… But what? a new chapter of life..? A 10,000 year earthly reign of awesome girl rockers, straight, gay, and everything in between? a new enlightenment to illuminate the present dark age?? Yes.. Maybe.. But I’m not sure what it is, but it is something .. something new.. Something really huge..Something very different.. (just a rock show, tu dis? Non!! C’est pas juste un rock show! Jamais juste un rock show! C’est un rock show d’un des groupes les plus géniaux de tous les temps! Je chie dans mon pantalon avec excitation!!) A big bold brave new fucking world…perhaps..
|| Chirp chirp goes the crosswalk sign, as the orange hand says STOP.. ARRETE!! Cuckoo.. Cuckoo Cuckoo goes the sign when the man in the hat pops up.. WALK WALK WALK PROMENADE He looks really determined.. In a hurry.. Not fucking around.. Get out of his way.. Man.. here he comes.. ||
Of course… this is something that likely seems but a small step.. Or just a tiny adventure for most folks, but – believe me – for a big-time introvert – possibly deep on the spectrum and with a wild imagination – who is also too gawddamn sensitive for his own good; this is a monumental occasion- I may as well be hiking across the south pole – It’s the world cup final, super bowl, Coachella, Guy Maddin Retrospective, Corey Redekop reading, Glastonbury, and Newport Folk Festival all rolled into one..
|| oh yeah.. Minor league baseball game. Angry Fish. It’s Saturday; July 29th; game time is 6pm central, that’s 1800 hours. Temperature at game time, 71°F. Ah yeah. Ah yeah. ||
It is game time.. Show time.. The curtain is rising.. like smoke from a blazing pile of Beatles records.. Time to show up and fucking rock and fucking live life, the life I’ve been putting off for way too fucking long.. While off off off at work.. .. nose to the grind, stoking the hellfires of late capitalism in a downtown office 20 floors above the street.. where the unfortunate beg for change on every bit of concrete they can find that is free of dog and human excrement.. people in this town forget to clean up after their dogs.. people in this town forget to clean up after themselves….
|| does the man in the hat on the crosswalk signal have a name?? I think he is the same man in Europe.. Or some parts of Europe like Germany and/or Holland.. Or something like that.. ||
Enough work.. Fuck work.. Forget that for now.. Enough of a system that is eating itself.. In a country on the verge of one last drug-induced psychotic episode that burns its own house down.. Chienlit c’est nous! Once and for.. all…. and the wild wild rumpus starts all over again, and western civ takes its final bows.. The enlightenment was awesome while it lasted… What’s next..? Who cares?? Do we have the will and energy for a new enlightenment..? I bet the girl – gay straight and everything in between… rockers do. Note to Canadians: If Trump gets elected in 2024 will you sponsor my citizenship application?
|| YES.. Yes.. Ampelmännchen .. yes.. It means traffic light man.. Yes.. the one in Peg looks a lot like him.. But, I think, more stylish than the German one… and more determined.. He’s got his stride on.. His arms swinging with his steps. Watch those elbows. ||
It is time to fucking live.. This is my first saunter outside the state of Texas in more than 8 years.. And damnit, I’ve spent a lot of money on and come a long long way for this – more than 2,800 miles (Austin to Calgary; Calgary to Peg City) and there is absolutely no fucking way I am going to miss one single second of it.. This is the biggest event of my life in Gawd knows how many fucking years.. Or, decades maybe.. This is probably the biggest thing I’ve done since going to Paris back in the mid-90s.. That was one wild.. continental mess.. of baguettes, camembert, vin rouge.. And some other shit I can’t remember.. Perhaps there was white powdery.. boeuf.. Je sais pas.. How did I wake up on the steps of the Hotel de Ville with two gendarmes hovering over me??? This is a big fucking deal.. Yes.. there I go all pie-eyed in the sky..again… But this is gonna be.. Gonna be.. I dunno..
Expectations high?? Yeah, a little.
|| The pedestrian crosswalks.. You hit that button and all cars come to a stop immediately.. No amber lights.. Flashing reds.. No.. slack for the cars.. There is no walk sign telling the pedestrian to go.. There is just the ol’ cuckoo.. Cuckoo.. And all cars stop.. Fuck.. they stop before you even push the button.. I’m confused at first.. This is a trick, right.. ??Somebody’s gonna punch it and send me flying right.. ?? This is death race 2K, right?? No.. Everyone waits for me to cross.. But not just cross in front of them… but the entire intersection.. Damn.. This ain’t the USA.. How civilized.. I stand on guard…||
I have to get there…. I have to get there.. now…. no matter how early.. goes my crackling mind.. cannot be late.. cannot be late.. I shave away the gray beard.. Can’t look like the tragically old man I am.. Medium gray pants, dark gray shirt.. This is dressed-up to me…this is as good as a tux to me… black pair of NBs.. extra wide, extra bouncy.. I practically fly over the sidewalks.. up Provencher, over the Riel Esplanade, across Waterfront to McDermott then over to King, then, finally, Smith Street, and the big green penile sign welcoming you.. to … the Burton Cummings Theater. Yes.. THE BURTON CUMMINGS. I kid you not.
You know who Burton Cummings is right?? The hometown boy from the town where the Red meets the Assiniboine…? American Woman, get away from me!! ? Yes. No. Not Yes! Guess Who! The lead singer of the Guess Who.. That’s who Burton Cummings is. He bought this 1,600 seat theater in his ol’ hometown and named it after himself. Egotistical? Maybe.. or maybe not.. baby… a brand is a brand is a brand.. Gawd bless his Gertrude Stein heart.. The man is a Genius.. Capital G.. and that voice.. Yeah. If I had that voice.. Well.. let’s just say.. I’d probably get laid again.. But forget that for now..
Burton Gawddamn Cummings can buy a theatre and name it after himself and no one should bat a fucking eye.. if you’ve got name recognition baby.. get it recognized.. So here I am, recognizing.. waiting in the VIP line.. Or so I think it is.. Because people tell me it is, and I believe them… and fuck..
Why would the groundling peeps be here before 5pm for an 8pm gig… ?? Riddle me that batman.
So… in this VIP line it is myself and about 30-40 other folks who paid somewhere north of $215 CAD (about $170 USD) to catch an “intimate” pre-show performance by the band as well as some Q&A.. Yeah.. not exactly a meet and greet, no selfies or high fives with the famed duo, but as big of a fan as I am, likely well worth the money.. after all, you get a signed VIP badge –sharpees!!! I put packing tape over the sigs when I got back to Tejas so they wouldn’t smear– there’s a cartoon drawing of the band on the front of the badge… when they were young.. very very young…
They did a comic book with an Eisner Award winner, ya know.. Or.. rather.. Uh.. hummmm.. Cough cough.. Excuse me, A graphic autobiography.. Of sorts.. Why do I say “of sorts”..??? Well.. it’s not exactly true to their time as 90s delinquents.. It is set in the present day.. While hell.. They are in their 40’s.. Now.. gawd bless’em, and yeah.. still younger than this old straight white man by a lot… But does that matter, really? Do time, setting, and precise facts really matter in the making of a good story?? (See Guy Maddin) (See also the film 24 Hour Party People about the old 80s Madchester scene that birthed Joy Division, New Order, Happy Mondays, and lots of other bands. As they say in the film: “Between the truth and the legend, print the legend.”)
Yeah.. I know.. But listen, If you are arguably the best songwriting duo of Gen X.. you can do shit like.. THAT…. Please refer to the Burton Cummings rant above.. Indeed…. A brand is a brand is a brand.. Legends are legends are legends.. Yes.. this duo is on that level.. Legendary.. For so many reasons for which I will need many more feet and hands to count.
|| I stand on guard for thee ||
The band have really opened up about their musical and personal history in the past few years..born out of a combination of immense creativity, a helluva work rate, and, perhaps, COVID cooped-up blues (what is my evidence for this COVID cooped up blues theory? Listen to the song “Pretty Shitty Time” on their Crybaby LP ; and then see what you think.)
who knows,
But anyway, they’ve been putting out a lot more than just music in these last few years..
and they have been putting out
a lot of music .. mind you –
Let’s see,
Damn.. as far as music.. There’re the recordings of songs they wrote in high school..called.. Hey I’m Just Like You; There is the LP of acoustic versions of the songs from 2004’s So Jealous LP… called Still Jealous; there are the dance mixes of their songs by various DJs, and, oh yeah, an entirely new LP.. called Crybaby.. Which is the very LP they are supporting on this tour.
Damn they’re fucking busy..
The illustrious industrious duo.. They are..
|| Canada baby.. USA with far fewer assholes per capita.. The man on the plane tells me.. You’re gonna love it ||
But damn.. As I hinted, that’s not all.. On top of the music:
there are two autobiographical books about their early days as aspiring musicians and kind of confused teenagers (which may be redundant?).. There is the graphic bio I referred to above called Junior High, and the book about their later early years called High School, d’accord.
Tegan didn’t go to school today.. Left me alone to play..
Thought that everything was fine..
Found Tegan Walkin’ that fine line
Between School and Home.. School and Home..
Where’s Tegan… ?
Oh yeah, and High School has been made into a TV series for Amazon’s FreeVee… One season has been released, and I, among thousands and thousands (perhaps millions?) of other fans are hoping a season two will be bestowed upon us.. In the near future…
And they even did a podcast during the pandemic about gardening.. Called “Where Does the Good Grow?” A play on the title of a song from 2004’s So Jealous, “Where Does the Good Go?”
Where do you go.. With your broken heart in tow?? What do you do.. With the leftover you??
Shit.. and that’s all I can remember for now.. And I’ve got a pretty shitty memory these days..As I’ve said and will say again because I keep forgetting that I’ve already said it.. They probably did a lot more that I heard, read about, or experienced, and just fucking forgot.. Or that I never got around to.. Hell, …..how can you keep up with this dynamic duo??
I’m standing in front of the BCT. A lady comes out dressed in the blue polo shirt; it’s uni of the theater – basically a shirt with the regulation badge in the top left, which is an outline white version of the green penile sign..
||.. or so I remember ||
She splits the line in two: this line, pointing to the left, is for VIPs going to the pre-show; and, pointing to her right, this line is for everybody else… yeah.. just “everybody else”. “Everybody else being three people.. Who I guess really wanted a good perch at the front…for the show proper.. How’s that for a bummer designation.. “Everybody else.” yeah.. kinda stars on thars if you ask me.. but hey.. I’d purchased my star for my thar.. I just had to be in the “line to the left” (and I was already there, indeed) in order to pick it up and proceed to my exalted place in front of the stage.. At approximately 1700 hours for “an intimate performance” by the band.. and oh yeah as I said, some Q&A.. And it’s for all us star-bellied sneetches… some 30 or 40 of us.. If I estimated it right…
You came all the way from Texas? the lady says looking at my passport card which screams
PLACE OF BIRTH: Texas.
Yes I say. Where? Austin I say.. Nice.. You know there’s a lady here from Mexico.. So.. I come in 2nd place for fan who traveled the furthest. Damn.. I really wanted to win that one.. Bummed already.. Ha ha!! Just kidding.. I am fucking amped.. So she’s getting outta the heat, too, I say.. Yeah.. Hot down there..?? She asks.. Yeah.. figure I’d get outta of the heat and see one of my favorite bands.. || Well awesome, she says.. And hands me my VIP badge attached to a thin black lanyard.. Have a great time! She says.. Stars on thars!!! I am a superior sneetch.. At last!!
Do I wanna $40 t-shirt?? That’s CAD, ya know.. What is that USD?? Hmm.. calculator.. Okay.. that’s a little over $30.. USD.. Uh.. no.. nah.. Let’s get inside.. Get in front of the stage.. Maybe maybe later.. Maybe…
I get a bottle of water.. From concessions.. Which is reasonably priced..$3.00 CAD, I think it was… Civilized.. It’s 83℉ outside and everyone says it’s hot.. Thwwp.. Stay hydrated I tell them. I don’t think everyone heeds my advice..
Nope..
As you will see..
When the duo emerge from backstage for the VIP gig, nobody claps.. Sara looks around and asks, “Did someone tell you not to clap?” still.. No one claps. .. they just laugh.. Mostly stifled giggles.. This audience is more nervous than the two folks on stage.. .. “..it’s like you all got some really bad news and you’re all just trying your best to hold it together,” Sara says.. More stifled giggles.. I just snort through my nose.. Outward.. Not inward.. Drug free nowadays.. I told you…Sobriety sobriety.. Another shot of espresso please.
|| Debby Friday comes out.. Onstage. She’s the opening act.. She fucking owns that stage.
People pass out like flies.. I guess they really think this is hot. No.. ain’t drugs.. Maybe drinking too much alcohol.. A diuretic.. Without drinking enough water to offset the resulting dehydration. I run up front to the lobby to flag down the hot Fire/EMT lady… She rushes to the front… to the lady in distress. ||
Both Tegan and Sara are funny throughout the pre-show, as they are throughout the show proper. They are one of the few bands in the world, and perhaps history, who are adept at making stage banter entertaining.. Rather than awkward and, too often, condescending.. Whether intended or not.. PS: Present band excluded, more bands should be like the Pixies. Plow through more than thirty songs in less than an hour and a half.. No breaths, no words.. Just boom.. Boom.. boom.. No encore. Everybody go home.
Did I tell you I saw the Pixies at Waterloo Park back in June? I didn’t..??? Well… I’m gonna have to remedy that.. Someday.. Soon…. Maybe
|| the lady is up again … taken to the front.. Lobby.. To get some water..and have her vitals taken by the hot EMT/Fire Lady.. Maybe I should drop to the floor, I think.. ||
so… then.. Back at the Burt at the pre-show, some acoustic songs.. one by Sara.. one by Tegan.. Some stories.. Some banter…the twins riffing off each other.. then the Q&A session.. all questions had to be pre-submitted via email… so.. I missed that boat.. having gotten the notification email late due to the fact that it wound up in my spam folder.. sad… I have no idea what I would have asked.. Is your mom still a social worker? Is your mom single? She sure is hot.. Yeah.. that would have gone over well.
What is your McDonald’s order? Is the only question I remember..
|| boom.. Boom.. throughout.. Debby Friday. More People drop to the floor.. Friday stops the gig.. The lights come on.. Hot fire/EMT lady to the rescue.. ||
Of course, when the band ask the questioner what her McDonald’s order is, she responds that she is a vegan(!!!!!!!).. Ergo.. nothing but fries.. I think that’s what she said.. Did I tell you I’m going a bit deaf, too?? Ah.. aging… aging.. Chronological advancement…
Okay.. shit.. now I’m hungry… thanks McDonald’s question lady… gotta take care of that.. okay.. can come back here later… I guess..
Tegan and Sara come out for their show proper.. More folks dropping to the floor.. Is this a Carol Morley film come to life? People passing out in the balconies.. WTF.. I think.. WTF… I’m on the barricade right up front.. There is a small lady behind me sporting the regulation asymmetrical haircut that screams “I’m a member of the tribe!!” – Yeah.. you know what tribe I’m talking about..– I insist she switch out with me and take the spot up front.. And not look at the back of my head all night.. I’m 6’4”, ya know.. You’re very kind and very tall she says..
Drunken farm girls.. In overalls.. Dance mad.. One of them Throws her trucker hat onstage.. Sara picks it up.. Brushes it under both her armpits, and then throws it back to the farm girls.. They act like they’d just touched Jesus.. Maybe they did.. Another hat.. This time Tegan brushes it under her pits and tosses it back.. There’s More jesus reverie from another group of young women.. Who aren’t in overalls..
|| The q&a/soundcheck experience was only.. What ..about 30-35 minutes long.. A little short, I thought, but Tegan and Sara have a lot of credit in my mental & emotional bank… okay.. Anyway, at their level of expertise they’ve got a pretty decent hourly rate, mind you ||
There’s some anecdote about menstrual blood on Sara’s face.. Not sure what happened or where that came from or.. What it was all about because more people were falling like flies.. In front of me.. To my left. To my right.. Is this hysteria, Tegan and Sara Mania, heat, dehydration?? I dunno.. But I’m tripping literally and figuratively on the falling bodies.. The show starts and stops again.. for the fallen.. The lights go on for the fallen. They go off again.. And off goes the show again.. It’s a weird night.. I mean.. These folks would die in Texas.. I hope they don’t go to ACL Fest.. They’ll need a primer on proper hydration if they do.. Man.. Things are different up here at lat 49.
The band close-out the show.. By clapping for the audience. Very kind, I thought. Then.. telling the crowd they don’t do encores.. Because they’d be assholes to make you clap for 15 minutes for a song they were going to do anyway.. .. So… They dedicate the last song of the night to all fallen in the audience and close with a song from the 2014 Heartthrobs LP… T
The closer is “Closer”..
All I wanna get is… they sing..
Well-hydrated and not passing out at the Tegan & Sara gig, I sing to myself.
I walk outside… among the exodus, greeted by a cheerful breeze,
It’s just like the song:
–the doors are open.. The wind is really blowing..–
I look up at the still glowing.. Manitoban sky;
More lines from the song ring in my ears:
The lights are off and the sun is finally setting
The night sky is changing overhead
I stare straight up
At the shifting red, blue, green,
Firmament..
I do this
all the way back to St. Boniface,
I am
Buzzed beyond buzzed beyond buzzed.
Is this what heaven is like?, I wonder,
Wearing a big stupid grin that
Doesn’t wear off for weeks…
Not even the Texas heat can melt it.
Slide Show 1.0 Again, In case you missed it the first time:
Mas Tortas Para los Trabajadores 
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