I don’t now I far I will get with the news right now but i guess it is now or NEVER.  Obviously I have fallen far behind but a tumble off a ladder last week has allowed me much needed down time to catch up on such frivolities as website blogging.  You know, “hey look at me, I’m so fascinating you should sit in front a dumb screen and hear about it”.  Look at me. It’s Saturday night and I am sitting around with complex lacerations on my shins typing.  What a jerk.

Its October 1 and the summer has faded like my tan lines. In early August I played at something called Woofstock in Cheney Stadium in Tacoma.  It was a dog benefit.  In between the musical acts they had dog races where they would jump hurdles. There was a terrier that was, from what I could tell, unstoppable. Like the Mike Tyson of dog hurdling.

After Woofstock I ferried across to Vashon Island for the Island Earth Fair which was a great event.  There were a lot of hippies running around. A lot of great music. It was a wonderful weekend.  This is where I come back to the tan lines. I wore the same tank top for three days in the burning sun and by the time I peeled the thing off I had a beautiful tan with bronze arms and neck and a pale white imprint of where the cloth had been. It was gorgeous. Like a tank top in negative space. Please, ladies, please.

In the middle of August we played another weekend in Yakima.  We closed out the summer series in Franklin Park.  Some guy video taped it and it is cool on the tape because there is a shirtless jogger that keeps streaking by behind the stage.  He must have been run about 14 laps. It’s nice to see people take pride in their bodies.

The next night we played with Baby Gramps at the wonderful Yakima Sports Center, which was a thrill and an honor.  If you live in the NW and have not seen Gramps then I have nothing to say to you.

They also kicked us free food at Mercedes for mentioning them as the best Taqueria in all of Yakima.  Thanks Mercedes! Thanks Yakima!

Oh yeah and back in July we played with Pat MacDonald in Ashland.  Well, he followed me home and crashed at my place on Portland for a week or so.  He’s a great guy and a great musician and you should go see him anytime he is in your town. And pick up his new album Troubador of Stomp.  He took me to Striparaoke at Devil’s Point.  I owe him my life. You do a great service Valentine, more about this later.

The end of August I played Vashon again and coming back I ran out of gas on the Alaskan Way Viaduct. Ask anyone from Seattle they will tell you it is a real drag place to run out of gas.  I had to walk the harrowing plankway in a remarkably hungover (still drunk) state. I gouged open my foot on a piece of stray rebar and then dropped down into the railyard and got chased by a guy that thought I was trying to hop freights.  It has not been a good summer for feet and legs. I wrenched my ankle back in June in Twisp and then re-aggrevated a couple other times.  More about leg injuries later.

Well some other stuff happened but let’s get to September.

I played the Tumbleweed Folk Fest in Richland, Wa. It is an awesome folk festival on the banks of the Columbia. A real traditionalist feel to it.  A lot great music, great people, and late night jam sessions. Everybody knows sea shanties and they gather at houses, restaurants,wherever, and exchange these great old songs.

I had a horrible incident with faulty plumbing in a strangers house the morning after one of these jam sessions but nobody wants to hear about that. Let’s just say, I had to go in with the hand.

The following weekend, I went to the Sisters Folk Festival where I was selected as a finalist for the Dave Carter Memorial Songwriting Contest.  Of course I lost. You need to ask? But I went down in a blaze of glory and Christ almighty I had a good time and met some unbelieveably great musicians and great people.  Too much to go into but just to revisit the notion of Striparoake, I rolled with Jonathan McEuen a little. His pops was of course in the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. Jonathon absolutely rules. Such a good musician, such a nice guy. He said he knew Dave Mason and I said, “man that is weird because I sang one of his songs at Striparoake a little with ago and the stripper Valentine said how much she liked the song and I whole heartedly agreed.” So Jonathon calls up Dave Mason on my cell phone to tell him.  Man, life is weird.

Alright time to wrap up this nonsense. I met Ruthie Foster at Sister’s also and she surprised me by coming to my gig in Bellingham and singing a couple songs.  She blew that room away and then I proceeded to….well just blow….God I sucked that night, sorry Ruthie, sorry Bellingham!

I followed that up with a great swing across the border (see calendar) and over to Port Townsend which is one of the coolest towns around.

So the grand conclusion to the summer. It was a good one. Full of great moments and some sorrowful departures.  A inordinately bizarre amount of tragedy and broken hearts but…. it is a good life we live. Am I right?

I turfed it off a ladder last week and landed on the ground and looked down and saw muscle and bone in my shins.  That is how I ended September. Supine. With bandages like leg warmers.  God damned if I did not get lucky. I cancelled the weekends gigs but I’ll be back next week. I have seen my insides. I am not a whiskey fueled automaton as previously suspected.  As Seger says, “dammit I’m a man”.

People I have seen the dark side of Kettle Korn.  It exists.  I tasted it myself at the Silverton farmers market on the first day of July.  A day that seems so long ago now. A guy kicked me down a bag of grape flavored.  It was a vile experience.  I hope he does not read this.

Later we got lost hiking and ended up on a highway miles from our car.  If it hadn’t been for a Mexican couple in a pickup we never would have made it back in time for my gig at the Oregon Trader in Albany. The Oregon Trader is nice and within it congregrate maybe the only sane people in all of Albany, Or. It was a harrowing first day of month. 

Next came the Yakima folk fest. Chris and Kubby, of the great Chuckanut Drive, and I played a side stage, the main stage and Bob’s Keg and Cork all the same day.  I love Yakima. The people are great. The food is great. The bars are fun.  We got a nice write up in the Yakima Herald (thanks Kim) and a certificate for receiving to most votes from the committee that decides who is to play (thanks committee!)

Kubby got his wallet and camera stolen on the way out of town (no thanks to you thieves of the world, without you we would not need cops! It’s your fault!)

*Side note:I lost my cherished Switzerland visor, if anyone found it drop it off to the sound guys in The Sportscenter or email me.  It was like a child to me.

The next weekend the excellent LA Fahy came in from Lawrence, KS and we proceeded to rock together from Portland to the Willamette Valley.  Then he split town and the great Miles Nowhere blew in from Az and we along with Chris Corbell proceeded to rock the Green Room in NW Portland.

Johnny Nighttrain blew into town with with his lovely gal Danielle and with the fully capable Nick Vroman behind the camera we began filming the tragic love story that is the The Rise and Fall of Johnny Nighttrain, a recent ballad I wrote about the world’s 15th greatest karaoke singer.

Next week I am heading down to Northern California with the mighty Camp 3 for a couple dates including Sunday the 31 with Pat MacDonald of Timbuk 3 fame. I should be honored to be in the presence of such greatness.

It’s been a hell of a month and it ain’t over yet.  The bookings continue. The songwriting continues and the Whiskey usage maintains…..