Elam

2012-02-23T16:09:00.001-08:00

From Memphis with love

2012-01-29T09:12:00.000-08:00

photo by Pascal DePaz

say you have a sister. say she is a wonderful person that you want to succeed in all her endeavors. i have such a sister. i have two! the one i am referring to is Mira. the youngest. she has started a cool new business making bow ties, pocket squares and women's belts. you may notice i am wearing said tie. Mira is in love with african prints. these ties are colorful! and if you can't tie a bow tie like me then there is a button up version. it buttons in the back. you ever notice how sexy bow ties are people? i put this one on and felt i could charm all the cheese out of wisconsin if you know what i mean. so please visit my sister and support her burgeoning fashion career. we have all had dreams. ideas that hang around and inspire our imagination. now is your chance to support someone who is pursuing hers. trying to carve out her little slice by making people look more elegant and fun. small businesses are good. small is powerful.

please visit the link: ((SHOLAN)) shop.

love Elam

2011-12-29T17:29:00.000-08:00

Is social media sociable?

I've been working hard to sell myself. A musician is a commodity. When you buy a record you are buying the pictures. The words. The man. And I have been gladly obliging the model that capitalism has set forth. I tweet, blog, app, widget, website, my way into the fray. I am the white noise. Fame and joy becoming more elusive by the day. In a bout of depression the questions are shifting.

Who do I want to be in the world?

Do I want to be famous? NO!

Do I want to be reckoned with? YES!

Taken seriously as an artist? YES!

As I strive be social I wonder what sets social beings apart? 1) working together to achieve a common goal and 2) using the group for safety. Much of the world and I have been racing to get our piece of the virtual pie for some years now and i wonder are we better for it? All this information? All the images and video. Are we better? All this effort feeding into a database about what I should buy and who I am as a consumer. What if we put the same awesome power of the google into finding out other important social answers?

In an act of desperation and social suicide I deleted my Facebook account (so far no armageddon.) I find myself on the web slightly less. Posting much less. Life's minuscule details are becoming minuscule again. Not worthy of an update. I don't have to wade into the world of distraction. Maybe the next thing I'll do is stop with the mass emails. I might unplug the cell phone. Go back to my land line. Be unavailable more. You are worthy of snail mail and certainly worthy of an individualized letter. After all, it is people I love. Fleshy messy people. Not their digital doppelgangers.

I am entertaining removing this blog from the world. Downsizing to just constantclip.com and releasing myself of the sharing disease plaguing everything we touch. I am starting to rethink lyrical content. To move away from the confessional writer. Finding a way into images and stories through another protagonist. Walking away from the self importance of the reflection. A reflection is an image. An image is beautiful the way it ripples on the water. How it changes with light and is erased by the wind. We are that! We are fleeting. We are wasting. We are slackening.

Join the revolution erase your digital friends so that the people who care enough to be with you now get your attention. You don't need to know what your best friend from second grade ate for dinner. You know what I love!? I have always loved the obscure. The hard to find song. Illusive people who aren't in love with themselves but in love with singing. In love with craft. In love with the world by being in it. What being social means is being present enough to notice something remarkable and remarking on it with the person nearest you. A true shared experience that doesn't get lost in the twenty four seven news cycle.

you are your joy

2011-12-24T05:43:00.001-08:00

on my most recent tour with Annie Crane I proposed we buy cassette tapes. We couldn't know the artists, and we were in search of the worst possible tape and the best. I've always been a collector of "junk" music. I like to glean a gem by going through the sonic trash. I used to spend hours each day at Bedrock Records combing through their stacks of vinyl and cds. bringing each album up to be heard. and occaisonally i'd pick out a new cd from the cover art. that's how i learned about arrested developement.

every week i bring home records on trial. i have a stack of lps i've never heard of that I'll listen to once through if i can make it. and keep or discard them. these cassetes are all terrible. from judy collins non inflective voice reading little house. to the balls to the wall epic that is splender. produced by todd rundgren you can tell tens of thousands of dollars were spent. maybe hundreds of thousands. to make stevie b have some sensitive street cred. and to make small change into the next super-group of children.

all of these records are major undertakings 5 of them on major labels. i guess A&R dudes are similar to me. throw shit at the wall see if it sticks. there is a lot of sweat equity here. and some of these cassettes may be treasures to you. to me it represents excess. big budgets. big deal. big failure. these bands likely worked hard. and earned the right to be put in front of the masses.

it shows that the industry broke. that making music just another capitalistic endeavor.

this is why we turn the radio off.

and pull an old loved lp out of it's jacket

and cut through the noise.

oh shit that's dizzy gillespie. claudio does have ability. but that cassette is really hard to listen to.

2011-12-18T10:21:00.001-08:00

this recording comes from the first night of my most recent tour. the tour was easy in some ways. we booked it around short drives and gracious hosts. annie crane and i got along famously. in other ways it was very hard. people were dealing with tragedy. our hosts, benjamin + wendy + friends, lost their companion paul. he was bandmates and much more. a brother, not by blood. paul was hopping a train and it took him much further than he had anticipated. it took him beyond his mortal body. it was a community loss. to my knowledge everyone there was a friend of paul. a few days later we had to quickly move a show in my hometown due to a friend's mother falling. still we sang.

we are the image of song. indianapolis.

((after this, the first night, there would be a dry spell. little money. spare audiences. what is the sound of one man clapping? night after night. hoping to sell a record. to find a connection through song. to no avail. that is, until the last two nights. baltimore and kimberton pa. the time in between was the soul on trial. it made me rethink how i want to be in the world. where i want to sing and for whom. and if i'll continue singing at all.))

for many years now. i have been singing angel of the floor. a song that sprung from the well of joy and sorrow. it sprung from the ruins of a fantasy. sleeping on the floor of someone who didn't want me there. aimless walks through mexico and boston. this song has become its own. many people request it. i willingly oblige because the song is alive in me. i am always dependent on the generosity of others. even those who've torn me in two. and in kind. it is my pleasure to be kind to y'all. to invite you to my home. to tell you about my life in a way that includes you in the picture.

we are the image of song.

at the end of the concert in the indianapolis living room. wendy exclaimed it was time to sing in the closet. so we all packed into the eaves of the angled roof. annie crane sang first. then it was my turn. ben requested angel of the floor. it was dark save for a flashlight? and the phone recording this song. i didn't know how to bring paul into our space but i knew i would.

so many people passed this year i stopped counting. young people and old people. never has death been so close to my being and to the people around me. it has been beautiful and terrifying. and singing with a new sense of wonder and sadness i asked people to be counted in. to join me. to find their search.

2011-12-16T19:29:00.000-08:00

too close to know. to be leaving. too close the ceiling
water falls
too close to the failure. too close to you
amazing how the yellow circle hangs. after the fire and no heat!
orange and pink. accosted the imagined end
and cleaved the day at dusk. too close to trust
that this will change. too close to giving up
i was made in one stroke. too close
waxy wing. cool of mourning
soon says i the star ascending
water bending rainbows into light. too close to stop.
too close the flock.
what have i bought by believing!? too close

2011-11-25T12:54:00.001-08:00

i have been refused
rock dove on slate
only you can break your heart

snap syllables in two
walk slowly through
only you

leonord cohen
went to sleep in the dark
and he never woke up
to touch the light
not until he was old

i don't want to sleep
no more with anger
in my heart to be torn
apart by a song

i don't want to think
about you and how
i could lose
the makings of me

you go on
with your hands that can't hold
your hips locked
tight chest late morning rest
and i am awake

and i am alone
breaking myself
so that i might mend

breaking you
so that the color comes through
and i might be a lense

2011-11-23T18:59:00.001-08:00

in Durham our sound man was Cronis (as in "time"). a greek musician with grey beard and hair pulled back to a pony tail. engaging and kind. we talked at length before the show.
i went on a trip into my past in the set. recalling my time in the desert of mexico. peyote. sky billowing. and all.
after the show Cronis said i reminded him of Carlos Casteneda.
i didn't know he sings i joked
he did said Cronis he was crazy. you have his spirit
Cronis claimed to have studied with him.

2011-11-21T06:53:00.001-08:00

the dry spell has ended. we made some money and played in front of an appreciative crowd! people were very generous in Baltimore. the person at the axis of this oasis for song and community is Caleb Stine. a tall bearded creator. full of presence and bursting with song.
thank you for baltimore. a place to be taken in. to be treated fairly.
it is certainly a hard place with plenty to see that will break your heart.
I enjoyed listening to Caleb sing at a piano in an antique store. greet people with a rare warmth. he took us to an incredible breakfast. i had a banana, blueberry blue corn pancake with creme fresh and pine nuts. blue corn reminds me of my beginnings. in the mountains of new mexico. it reminds me of my mother's many fine meals and her caring spirit.
something is happening in baltimore. it is the same something of cincinatti, indianapolis, detroit, and pittsburgh. a resurgence that may just have enough heart in it to become a new home to the great people of our new movements around food, music, space and art. movements that make little money but are satisfying to the people involved. we may just find that our greatest hope is in these towns. a place where people can afford to be a human. work less than 40 hours a week. work for themselves. become something greater than themselves because there is room for them and their ingenuity.
mayors of these great cities please be smart enough to allow growth from the people. don't let the hoarders and developers devour what is truly the regeneration of self sufficiency and promise. let the rust belt children be. so that they might restore a sense of dignity and pride in our country. not for the wars we've won. or the sports teams. but for bike ways. farmer's markets. food trucks. cooperatives. art centers. poets. songwriters. thinkers. builders. young people it seems might actually be a achieving a new american dream. the dream of the 99%.
no one gets rich. most find satisfaction.

2011-11-17T15:57:00.001-08:00

pic by Kat Bike

so you want to make music? here i am doing it and being ignored. prepare yourself to face you. to face a conversation of what success and art is. be prepared for snarky comments from hipsters about how awful folk music is. and how it should die already. nobody said it would be easy. in the past week I've played four shows with very little income. nothing over $20. i've sold two records and given away two downloads. this is my life. i drive a large amount of hours. sleep on floors. and try to find the joy in each experience. in indianapolis there was a great picture of a lady water skying on a chair in my room. after a lovely evening of song we ended the concert by singing in a closet. a homage to a recently deceased friend. the next day we were filmed singing songs in a converted firestone garage. it is now an artspace.

columbus a tree house and ole friend eric nassau. Cincinnati broke the flat landscape trend. the hills were a welcome sight. we walked a couple miles to the record store in town. shake it. fairly priced but i couldn't pull the trigger because i wanted everything. At the cafe our waitress/host had tacky pearls and piled hair. a friendlier amy winehouse sorta look. it was a place to feel normal. after being largely ignored we had some lively conversations with interesting people. somehow i found 4 jews. packed the car. we drove to kind hosts in lexington who's place filled me with a sense of nurture. the street historic. most leaves gone to roadways.

then home. ((HOME)) where the landscape move into you. listening to records. leaving the door to the deck open for the unusually warm breeze.

onto asheville. the paris of the south. kissing a baby and getting silly with him. these experiences are rewarding but poorly attended shows abound. we are carrying on because that's what we do.

occupy wall street is changing the paradigm of value and i am on board. writing a song has value, but why do it? why even commit it to a medium? am i in this to get out into the world of friendship? to bring something meaningful into peoples lives? is there enough impetus to continue from here?

i love singing. i love watching landscape change. i love terrible cassettes. the accumulation of trash. tangled wires. rearviews. horizons. i love the perfect song-on-move. a well poured coffee. shoes off heat on them. i love the way the packing shifts and when silence is illuminated. calling friends. thinking. getting angry. getting happy. getting over it.

wondering where love will find me. watching for birds in unison. and leaf dance. my wrists hurt and i may have to give up the guitar? i sleep well here. and i love the companionship however brief. being taken in. and inviting friends to my ((HOME)) to see for themselves why the typewriter sounds so good in the morning.

the stage in durham looks large. the room looks large and i wonder can songs fill the void?

2011-11-17T08:08:00.001-08:00

when i was in chicago i went to occupy wall street. some random guy handed me a sign. i don't remember what it said but as soon as i held it up people started snapping pictures. they never asked if it was my sign or what i meant.
i didn't mean anything by holding the sign.
but i went home and moved all my money out of the bank. it wasn't long ago that i was juggling credit cards. using one to pay off the other. going further into debt each month at the pace of about minus $1000 a month. When I hit the $30,000 in debt I realized something was broken. I stopped paying and started paying attention to what is possible when you live within your means. Some banks worked with me to settle debts others wrote them off or sold them off to credit collectors. One bank went so far as to sue me and to my delight the case was dismissed. To me the movement is divesting from wall street. It is saying that a credit rating doesn't make a person able or unable. That we demand to be respected and we expect to be treated fairly in our dealings. If a bank is charging you $35 for a $2 transaction something is wrong. If you call to set it straight and they don't do anything about it because it is their policy. divest.
put your money in the hands of small farmers. in young entrepreneurs hands. people with good ethics who have good ideas. divest by giving away what people say has value. give away the things you don't use. create space in your life for being loving and creative. give away a space in your home for a guest. see the value of good service. reward caring people who treat you well. invest in them. invest in yourself. money doesn't mean value. ratings mean nothing. people with excellent ratings brought down the country's economy. get involved. if you can't occupy then divest from colleges who saddle students with insurmountable debt. divest from political parties that talk in rhetoric and are short in action. YOU have the power.

November Tour

2011-10-31T06:49:00.000-07:00

w/ Annie Crane!

Fri 11/11 - House Concert w/ The Accordions, 8pm, Indianapolis, IN.
Limited space available. Contact to be added to the guest list, info@anniecranemusic.com.

Sat 11/12 - Keruac Kafe, 8pm, 2250 North High St., Columbus, OH.
www.kafekerouac.com

Sun 11/13 - Sitwells Coffeehouse, 8pm, 324 Ludlow Avenue, Cincinnati OH, www.sitwellscoffeehouse.com

Mon 11/14 - House Concert, 7:30pm, Knoxville TN. Limited space available.
Contact to be added to the guest list, info@anniecranemusic.com.

Tues 11/15 - Bobo Gallery, 8:00pm, 22 Lexington Ave., Asheville, NC,
www.bobogallery.com

Wed 11/16 - The Black Feather Cafe, 7:00pm, 216 Adams Street, Berea, KY.www.blackfeathercafe.com

Thurs 11/17 - The Broad Street Cafe, 8:30pm, 1116 Broad Street, Durham, NC, www.thebroadstreetcafe.com

Fri 11/18 - Darjeeling Cafe, 8:00pm, 103 W. Beverley St., Staunton, VA,
www.darjeelingcafe.com

Sat 11/19 - House Concert at Caleb Stine's, 7:00pm, Baltimore, MD.
Limited space available. Contact to be added to the guest list, caleb@calebstine.com.

Mon 11/21 - Rose Hall at The Camphill Village Community, 7:30pm, 1601 Pughtown Road, Kimberton, PA, www.camphillkimberton.org

2011-10-02T16:08:00.001-07:00

sometimes after you soar you fall. sometimes after you fall you sleep. with garcia lorca at your ear.

2011-09-23T05:53:00.001-07:00

remembering south america by bus. dust shaking in through the windows. learning words. pointing to ears, eyes, nose, cheeks. falling in love

2011-09-22T20:32:00.001-07:00

was that heat lightning. when we were laying on our backs drinking wine? and the crickets silent on the patio.

2011-09-20T06:19:00.001-07:00

breakfast is a meal i must have

2011-09-19T06:05:00.001-07:00

Ornette Coleman and coffee. And the sound of debris landing on the concrete patio.

2011-09-17T06:55:00.001-07:00

above the market there is a peregrine falcon. listening to a man sing a song townes van zandt wrote in his dreams.

2011-09-16T04:37:00.001-07:00

almost able to sleep through roofers at 7am

2011-09-15T05:51:00.001-07:00

less

2011-09-14T04:53:00.001-07:00

ocean calling

2011-09-13T22:18:00.001-07:00

patience

2011-09-13T15:53:00.001-07:00

worked hard. ladders leaning. sun beaming. day careening.

2011-09-07T04:50:00.001-07:00

getting freer

2011-09-05T06:58:00.001-07:00

i want that

2011-09-03T06:50:00.001-07:00

just sold my first vinyl in JAPAN!!

2011-09-01T15:08:00.001-07:00

diggin you diggin me

2011-08-30T06:11:00.001-07:00

wide planks. white planks. width of the hand.

2011-08-13T05:16:00.001-07:00

hey y' know how much i like you?

2011-08-11T04:46:00.001-07:00

good morning day. brimming full of the possible. taking stock in you. investing in you. the market of eternity. shares for all.

2011-08-10T06:11:00.001-07:00

sing a friends song

2011-08-10T05:44:00.001-07:00

investors are friends and neighbors who invest in you. the market as a place to meet farmers and support them. the news is in front of you.

2011-08-10T05:36:00.001-07:00

people yelling in the street. kids being rude. big guy with muscles looking for a fight. police swarming. asheville?

2011-08-09T15:38:00.001-07:00

stepped on a rusty nail. got a shot in the arm.

2011-08-08T11:58:00.000-07:00

Vinyl records have arrived! Now taking orders. $20 plus s+h.

2011-08-08T06:11:00.001-07:00

dancing to Marvin Gaye. the day is off to a good start!

2011-08-07T08:46:00.001-07:00

dear fruit salad i am going to eat you. dear creek I am going to you. dear mountain i will travel over you.

2011-08-05T15:14:00.001-07:00

running back to Knox to DJ a wedding got a jam packed weekend.

2011-08-05T09:03:00.001-07:00

going to lunch a bunch

K

2011-06-15T18:41:00.000-07:00

Kerrville Folk Festival is where I go to return to humanity. Two weeks in oppressive heat and caliche dust. Two weeks of expanding outward towards something greater. Reaching towards becoming who I want to be. The cedars have grown in the years since I first arrived in 2004. It isn't so easy to catch a glimpse of the horizon. This year there was less to see. Gusts of wind. Tears for lost friends falling at the feet of songs. I fell for the night. My mistress time and again. She put me in the place I longed to be. A listener. A walker. A dancer. Delirium abounded. Telling stupid jokes singing forgotten words and putting whatever I chose in the empty place.

It's funny looking at something you created and not recognizing it or wanting to call it by name. Those songs are old and they gave up on me long ago. Sure I wrote them but we grew apart. They wanted to go to the mall and get the latest pair of jeans. Me I'd rather eat bee balm leaves.

you are music

2010-12-06T06:15:00.000-08:00

last night I dreamt that you are music
although you may not play an instrument or sing
you complete the act with listening

without you music is incomplete
a one way street. half the power. half the beat
so I take thanks to those who listen
who take the chance to expand their vision

you are music so i need you to feed to
to love and live and kiss and breath to

2010-11-12T22:43:00.000-08:00

Am I the only one staring at the screen thinking I can do better. Thinking the web is a perfect analogy. Soon the spider will come wrap us up and inject us with poison. And we'll slip into the darkness. Bleak huh? Well tell me it isn't true.

I've spent countless hours playing scrabble. Nearly 2,000 games. Who knows how many times a day I check facebook. And meanwhile, I rarely have a meaningful conversation with a friend. So do me a favor: get out your favorite record and cook a meal. Call an old friend on the land line. Put down the texting for a second. Take a nap for a change. Find your favorite plant in the yard and pot it and bring it inside for the winter. Masturbate! and god damn it write or draw or somethin'.

2010-09-29T06:55:00.001-07:00

Last night Nashville was eclectic. An odd collection of scenes. The basement of Grimey's Records is a venue. It is in fact a basement. It says basement on the wall. It felt good to be in a basement after the ordeal of a long week. Trying to squeeze meaningful moments out of California. Lee, my 96 year old grandmother, asking are you married? Yes, I lied. This happened about 6 times and the more I lied the less I felt good about it. She has dementia. But in all fairness it is a technical lie. I wish people could recognize fully the beautiful relationship I am in and not put their desires in place of my desires. I get it! I may not get married. I may not have kids. I'm okay with that. I'm in love people and I've stayed in love for over 3 years. It's evolving and strengthening as love does.
I have a form of amnesia. I can't recall what happens between time with my family. I try to stitch together the one or two visits into a continuum. Everyone has been adults for a while now. The new grandchild is Che. He speaks without speaking. Pointing at the cat. DADA. Che is the only bloodline left in my immediate family.
The whole reason for the trip was to see my first love get married. Only to realize there is a greater love that expects me to come home sometimes. The love of friendship and community. The love of years of nuturing and raising me into something. Yes the wedding was beautiful. Yes I was jet/ heart lagged. Worn out from the battles of the day. Missing planes. Freaking out. Traveling great distances amongst strangers. People tapping their feet setting me on edge. People beating out rhythms on seats. I get up and move away. People talking about how angry they are into cell phones. Everyone touching the pulse of the web. I turn up the music and close my eyes.

2010-08-26T18:12:00.000-07:00

I am sitting with paint chips lodged into my fore arms
can you see the clearing through the pine and oak. the way green rolls into green.
A humming bird about to light on a red hat. can you hear the hum?
I talk to people at an impasse. I scrape paint.
I long for fluid stride. To push forward on a bicycle. To feel lake air.

Today was a good day. Plenty of blues to go around. Willie Dixon killing sadness with a stand up bass.

2010-07-28T15:47:00.000-07:00

blog hopping! I'm featured in my friend Dale's blog

http://dalemackey.wordpress.com/2010/07/27/journal-feature-elam-in-new-york/

In it I reflect on a summer about 10 years ago

Sam Hinton

2010-07-26T18:24:00.000-07:00

This is a great song by Sam Hinton. One folkie who people don't talk about much these days. One day I was working over at Guy and Candy's place. I saw his picture on a mantle.
"Hey that's uh.."
"Sam Hinton" Candy finished my sentence.
She proceeded to tell me they were good friends and that he had died recently. I felt a large sunset we were aiming at. I felt love. felt younger.
It felt like we were joining a bigger picture. Bigger than their cabin made of doors down the hill. I excused myself and went cut down locust tree.

2010-07-25T12:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends
I've just returned from the road with Hunter Paye. Here we are in my livingroom as proof that life is full of illusions. If you thought that I make alot of money or don't have to lay on a floor or two I'd like to join you in your imaginings. In fact I slept on many floors and a couple forgettable nights in cheap hotels in Wyoming and Idaho.
But ultimately what brings me joy is singing and finding the perfect soundtrack to a landscape. We have a mighty beautiful country y'all. I hope you get out there and explore it. Stay off of the damn interstate if you can. Don't be afraid to pull over and walk over to that barn. I did, and an owl took flight. Its wide soft sound moving towards the rattling trees. Shawn Poynter took the picture.

time to wake

2010-03-24T18:08:00.000-07:00

waking up to this song is perfect. many mornings. many times. my friend in the other room talking muffled into his pillow. somehow he made it out the door every morning in about ten minutes. hair gelled. slightly used look. but awake and happy.

i sat there waiting for the morning to explode.

Pallets

2010-03-24T17:50:00.000-07:00

pallets have been raised in the yard. Marking compost boundaries. The ash tree is half of itself. I got tired of the black sticky mess it gave us last year. A note of love and imagination arrived from India.
Debates rage on. Green jobs, immigration, health reform. Who can shout the loudest and make it matter the least! I don't feel cynical. I feel hopeful. I think we can fuck this thing up so good that history will look back on us and we will be history. Look, unless the system that we've got stops rewarding loophole loving, greenback humping, selfish, greedy people there ain't no change that will do much.
Capitalism has flaws. It is so far from perfection it is scary and it seems to be working against democracy not for it. Why undermine the foundation that made you rich?

Cassie called hello? throughout the house. I kept quiet and hid in the bathwater. She found me. Then she found the forget me nots I secretly planted. I wonder what she'll find next. Today was for laying on the porch and waiting for the night to fall for a song. And it did. Just as easily as I fell in love with the lady sitting on her front patio drinking bud light and smoking in the mid day earling spring happening. I fell for the alley all over again. For the bottles and cans lodged into the hillside and the feeling of old shocks bottoming out.

sarcasm

2010-03-21T06:51:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to wash away the sarcasm of last night with music. I'm trying to save some cookies for my love. I eat everything in sight. I was talked about by Moses. He said if you don't stop hurting my people Elam will eat all your sweets. It's right there on page 741 verse 4 in a book.
I'm wondering were my friend Rosie is. Rosie and I once shared a house with strangers in San Rafael. The eucalyptus tree lined road felt more like a fire lane waiting to happen. One day I decided there should be no more ivy in our yard. I went after those fucking plants with a fervor of mad youth. and about a day later I had succeeded in clearing most of the yard. Rosie lived in the dungeon downstairs. She left after a couple months for the hills of Oakland. and until recently we've been in touch.

Last night there was an "art night" Kelle had heard about at a community house in 4th and Gill. This consisted of a vision of my future? Being gray or bald and sitting around with other gray balds. Maybe blitz and grabbing for a guitar and banging a chord or two. Or listening to a woman sing about Jesus and meth and being a redneck which she is not. Kelle painted quietly in the corner. We were on display in the small room.
I felt a resignation and cynicism dusting our friendly encounter. These people were nice, maybe i'm the ass.
On the way home Kelle told me about her father dying and the spirit that moved her and I gave her some cookies to take home. I can't imagine either of my parents dead. My imagination mostly survives in cooking. What would bananas and quinoa taste like?
A tiredness, an overcast sky.
A tradition of planting random seed has continued into 2010. Out there in the yard you might see okra, carrots, morning glories... who knows? and who knows where. I think I'm part squirrel.
time for coffee and distraction

This Is The Jubilee

2010-03-20T06:28:00.000-07:00

What I reached for this morning as I woke up was Noah Earle's new record. This Is The Jubilee. And indeed that is the first lyric you hear. I've known Noah for some years now. We were at the Folk Festival in Kerrville. At first I was intimidated by his deft playing and good looks. I felt like I was in the presence of a star so he must have been in my mind. All that quickly dissipated as Noah and I began to talk and joke around. Noah is a sharp motherfucker! He'll go toe to toe speaking spanish, or discussing the merits of a higher power. His vocabulary is so large that sometimes I snicker because in a way he is in his own verbose world. But what is most important is the guy is gold. He is gold people. He cares deeply about living a good life and it shows. This album makes me happy. Its lyrics give me a peace. That is a rare quality in writing a song. Mostly these days I feel like we're all therapists. Except we are paying the patient.
Noah has taken chances moving away from the folk vein. I know this was his most trying and difficult project to date, and it was worth it.
The last time I took stock in a song writing contest Noah was a finalist. He lost. But something we all gained was go out make great music, do your best. I've come to doubt that the taste makers have taste. No taste buds. No ear buds. Ultimately it's our choice that matters and I choose this album morning after morning.

So I ask you to support Noah, his wife Jen, and his son Gus. I ask you to support a guy who gardens, is a birder, and who once shaved lines in his eyebrows. Buy this album. Buy it directly from noah. noah.earle(at)gmail(dot)com

http://noahearle.com/

fire time

2010-03-13T17:48:00.000-08:00

Fire time by elamis

love is a strange bird
i am a strange tree
won't you light my limbs with fire

slow start awkward wing
dew drops on collard greens
won't you gaze into the blaze

locust weaves into the fence
shooting out thicket dense
won't you cut down its years to none

we are growing old
it is no slight of hand
will the passing days be a worn out bench

will we recognize the sign
that is our future time
won't you go easy for me when you come

DC action

2010-03-11T14:59:00.000-08:00

Dear Congressman Roe,
thank you for seeing me and my friends yesterday regarding the destructive practices of Mountaintop Removal. You quoted Paradise by John Prine. Well that's got me thinking about the actual town Paradise Ky.

here's what wikipedia has to say about it
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paradise,_Kentucky

seems TVA tore down paradise over health concerns. The song remains the same, and is continuing to happen. I'd like to write a song about a congressman who took action to end mountaintop removal.

thank you

Elam Blackman
songwriter

33

2010-01-29T19:53:00.000-08:00

33 and 1 third
33 on the day
from NYC
driving back late
boston a bucket of ice
a road the clock struck twice
my hands your feet
wedged between seats

laying on a radiator day
staying in bed to stay
green couch tabby cat
and the days go on like that

you were okay with the floor
and the sirens and no door
we could dance like elk
icy streets waiting to melt
car stuck spinning wheels
salt on chocolate revealed
hand on hand it's you i see
now the year is striking 3

sunset yellow on the wall
nothing gets past your eyes
every little animal
you sit with for a while
your mother is drawing birds
we've got them in drawer
cardinal in the ash
tennessee mi amor
i want to break the bond
of the working man
to free ourselves
from money or land
i know it's just a dream
i know i have to wake
but i will hold on
as long as it takes

with you a patient hand
with you a slow plate
generous in eyes
for the joker and his sake
so lets see what we can be
and what more we can give
never halt the open door
and to grow outside of it

more photos from that time

2009-12-06T10:56:00.000-08:00

previously i wrote about a photograph. I figured I'd poke around in my past. In the same roll are photos of the Kate Wolf Festival, and the month I spent up on San Juan Island riding around on a thrift store bicycle. I hit a deer on that bike. I have the scars to prove it. I worked in some tourist bar. Here are the journal entries

8.16.220
I knew I was unprepared. I forgot to pack a stove, a
knife, plate/bowl, utensils, sunglasses... I could go
on and bore you, but I wont. I also didn't do much
research into this trip. All I know is I am here on
San Juan Island. It is beautiful. The place I am
staying at is practically a douglas fir forest. All
thanks to my good friend SaraJane who hooked me up
with a few of her friends.
When I arrived in Seattle finding the hostel was easy.
Deciding what to do with my day was not. I had
arrived early and couldn't check in, so I stored my
bags and headed off.
I called Kym's (a co-worker at the coffee shop in
Fairfax) parents to see if I could pick up her bike.
See I had learned a bike is an efficient way to get
around the San Juan Islands. I thought Kym is from
Seattle maybe I can use her bike! She said it would
be fine) I got ahold of Bill, Kym's father, on his
cell phone. He had a friendly voice... he told me to
call him back in a half hour because he wasn't home,
but he'd head there get the bike and drop it off for
me. I was taken back at how giving he was to a total
stranger.
I strolled along the waterfront playing my charango
for unimpressed passer byes. I planned to walk down
to pier 69 where the Victoria Clipper (the boat I took
to the islands) docks. I was pretty far along when I
realized I needed to be back at the hostel to hook up
with Bill. On my way back I called Bill he told me
his other daughter had sold the bike at a garage sale,
but he wanted to go out and buy a bike that I could
borrow. WOW! I couldn't believe my ears. I told him
I'd search for a bike at a thrift store. I was having
a hard time deciphering friggin' addresses. I went by
area codes... I finally found a place that looked like
it was pretty close Value Village. I called them up
and they said they did indeed have bikes... "how
much?" "$12.99- $29.99"
They gave me directions "get off at Broadway and
pine it's to the right just past Kentucky Fried
Chicken"
I was out the door in a flash. ROSS loomed. I ran in
and got some cheesey sun glasses.
The bus stop was just around the corner. The bus
driver had one of those voices that are all gravely
like Tom Waits, but more high pitched and combative.
We turned a corner and the bus shut off... he cursed
got out and fixed the rods that were no longer in line
with the electric wires.
KFC was hidden behind some trees but some nice people
helped me find it. The bikes were down in the
basement along with electrical appliances. The only
one in working order was 12.99! She was blue, with
oversized white reflectors, a real beaut.... 10 SPEED
in white letters written down the side. It was as
generic as you can get. Love at first sight. I just
had to pump up the tires, and oddly enough a bike shop
was right next door where I could get her ready for
our first ride! I was on a hill that I could coast
down. She's a bit wobbly. I grinned like I was king
of the world all the way to the hostel.
The rest of the day was pretty bland. I tried to
muster up the energy to play at an open mic but all
the clubs seemed to far away. Up the alley from the
hostel was a pretty cool club, but the best part was
walking out and seeing the wall of gum. Thousands of
splotches of used gum stuck to the brick wall to form
an impressionistic painting.
This area also had great acoustic to sit and sing some
songs for a while.
I ended up crashing early... I woke up to my phone
ringing the display read "RYAN." I turned off
the ringer and promptly fell back asleep.

This morning I woke up and rushed out the door old
blue and I were cruisin' and hopped on ship... we
actually held it up a bit, but they were kind enough
to wait. The clipper was packed. I sat next to a
pole where people walked constantly by. Then the
floor. Then a bouey which was the best of all. I
read A Sand County Almanac which makes me smile now
and then... Aldo Leopold can put words to his
appreciation of nature that I can't express.

Marie greeted me her face smiling and round she had on
a red bandana, a white shirt, and jeans. I don't know
Marie she's a friend of SaraJane's. Susan and Sam
were waiting at the truck. Susan has a booming voice.
She's a firecracker I can tell. Sam is a golden
retriever with a quirky personality and as with most
dogs eager to be loved.
On susan's property live Jonathon, Vail, Ella Mae,
Ooma, Andrew, Rosa... and me
Susan has graciously lent me a tent and a place to
pitch it. I'm just lounging. There's a party
tonight.
The county fair is going on life is good

8.20.2002
today was a Sarah Baur day. She loves it foggy and
overcast, so that she can sip her capaccino all day
long. Sarah took me on a drive around San Juan Island
the other day. I like the way Sarah talks loud and
slurring her words all the way.
Old blue and I had been talking about going to Orcas
Island for a while now. I woke up early. The body
clock ticking beautifully. Jonathan gave me a ride
into town cuz he had a dentist appointment. I walked
Old Blue onto the massive ferry. I remember pulling
into Friday Harbor wondering why such huge pile-ons
were necessary. I thought maybe a cruise ship, but
these ferries carry cars therefor they are big. The
inter island ferry is free unless you have a car. I
strapped old blue down so she wouldn't fall and walked
up to the observation deck. I don't know why I was so
set on summiting Mt. Constitution on Old Blue she does
only have ten speeds after all. People have offered
other bikes no thank... Old Blue has been good to me.
She's steel... she's heavy and awkward and her seat
makes my ass hurt.
I have never done a ride like this around Marin County
where I live, but a time comes when you do irrational
and challenging rides for the heck of it. Orcas has
many hills. The ride to the summit is over 20 miles
long, and with no granny gear it proved to be
difficult. There were many riders on the ferry with
their fancy bikes, gloves, helmets, wind breakers,
black shorts... they looked mostly retired. When I
got off the ferry they were the first people I passed.
I am competitive what can I say? I wanted to be the
first to the top. The road lead along a lovely
meadow. Nice barns. I passed some awesome kinetic
sculptures... mobiles or whatever they're called.
They were part of a museum put alongside the road to
entice passers by. In East Sound the first small town
on the way to Mt. Constitution I saw a just married
couple. She was sitting in the side car of a classic
motorcycle. He was driving. It looked like the
motorcycle had been painted black just for the
occasion. "Nice town" I thought as I passed through.

Old Blue was riding like a champ. I stopped at a
ranger station to fill up on water. Shortly past the
station a lake opened up on the right. On the left
came the road to the summit. At the ranger station I
met a Canadian couple I was drafting behind. We
started up the mountain in full spirits. They were a
bit concerned for me. "Sure you got everything you
need?" Asked Mike a tall lanky goateed grey haired
man. I went over the list in my head: crescent
wrench, food, water, camera, maps... yeah, I think so.
There I was in my cotton shorts my tighty whities
riding up. Tevas sandals and wearing no helmet. What
a pair old blue and I. We were making pretty good
time despite the fact that my legs felt like they were
going to give out. I saw an eagle or hawk of some
sort. A spectacular view of some other islands, but
all I wanted was to be at the top. The Canadian had
left me in the dust. Huffing pushing as hard as I can
struggling.
I thought back to when I was working at Barton's
Bagels in San Anselmo. I worked with this cyclist.
He was a stud. "I saw you riding" he'd say. "How'd I
look?" "You were working too hard use a lower gear."
He always said that. If he could see me now throwing
my weight side to side as I peddled with all my might.
I reached the top exhausted the Canadian cheered
loudly I was embarrassed and proud. Old Blue and I
can do anything. I walked up to the panoramic view.
The prize. I sat near the edge of a drop off eating
P.B.&J, and carrots. A couple is flirting over there.
Bleep bleep bleep. I look at the couple, and they
look at me and laugh. "Hello?" Some lady answers her
cell phone. Then I hear the Canadian talking on
theirs. "They're missing the point" I say to myself.
Suddenly I felt like all the people were bragging that
they had conquered this mountain. I realized it had
conquered me with its breath taking vistas. I was
sore as hell too. I thought about how land is such a
commodity. It's an investment now. When I read A
Sand County Almanac I think Aldo Leopold really loved
the land that he lived on. Society is walking
backwards with Bush hand in hand. It's good to know
that not everyone is on the same sinking boat. There
are some people doing great things these days.
Blue and I felt great zooming down the hill. No front
brakes, but the back ones will slow me down
sufficiently. The wind whipping.. I was cold, but I
don't think anyone noticed. I was so happy. Smiling
at every car, and bike I passed. A sense of
exhilaration. The ride back to the harbor was hard
and on the ferry back to San Juan I rewarded myself
with a nap.
now the ride back to the tent looms

9.12.2002
hello yous...
it was a long and arduous journey on the ferry to
Seattle. I read my book, fell asleep and every so
often would stroll to the upper deck to get some fresh
bone chilling air. I arrived at the hostel a little
dismayed to be in a place so sterile and boring.
There was no community what so ever.
It was late but I hadn't eaten dinner so I ran over to
a pub and picked up a veggie burger... I felt kind of
isolated and alone like people were staring at me
while I ate. It was dark out and to me that meant bed
time. My body was used to shutting down just after
dark. I took off the dressing on my wounds and tried
to find a comfortable position. Every time I moved I
ached and my road rash would feel irritable. You
would think laying on a bed that is perfectly
horizontal would lend itself to good sleeping, but I
missed the quiet San Juan had to offer. I missed the
sound of Douglas Fir needles falling on to the tent
and sliding down to the ground.
The reason I was in Seattle and not San Juan was
Bumbershoot a huge music and arts festival over labor
day weekend.
Mostly it was okay. Very often I found myself
cringing and restless listening to something BAD. I
would move on to something else. On the first day
after listening to some of the worst reggae music I
have ever heard (Cannon the Lion of Judah) I wandered
aimlessly. I ended up at the short film fest. I sat
down next to some lady. She had slender fingers and
wrists and long puffy hair. We started talking I
found out she had just come back from Africa she is
Jewish among other things. We watched a set of films
about addiction... the best was called 60 cups of
coffee. The main character was trying to see if 60
cups would kill him. It was pretty funny. All the
characters in the diner were great. Two guys were
betting on whether he'd make it to sixty or not. They
bet chewing tobacco, cigarettes, lighters... the pile
kept getting bigger and bigger.
The next group of films was called Pro Creation? Me
and the lady were commenting on the films. We had a
good connection. We talked about what music we were
going to see after the films. We ended up at Christy
McWilson together. Good ol' country music. The lady
introduced herself as Amy. Amy wanted to do the two
step with me but I declined giving many excuses I'm
injured, I can't partner dance... the real reason is
that I feel like an ass when I dance with a woman.
I'm so awkward and I like feeling confident when I
dance. After Amy and I had seen a few shows she
invited me out to a Sabbath dinner. "Sounds like an
adventure" I thought. I didn't care to stay at the
festival. Free food! Good company! I'm all over
that. It was exciting to be celebrating Shabbat it
had been so long. I thought back to Warren Wilson
College when I used to rally all 5 or 6 Jews on campus
to celebrate together.
"Hi Paul I found a stray Jew and I thought I'd bring
him along to dinner is that all right?" Amy asked her
cell phone.

We arrived at the house after being a little lost.
She had only been there once. She made me a little
nervous with her driving... heavy breaking and
accelerating. I greeted each stranger. They had
names Paul, Eric, Lauren, Dan, some other lady, and
the shy dog Freckles. It was a fun bunch of folks. I
had a good connection with Paul and Dan. Dan was
always eluding to some sexual connotation then he'd
chuckle... you couldn't help but laugh along. Dan had
small thin rimmed spectacles... his nose was kind of
pointy and his cheek bones stood out on his thin face.
He had short hair that almost parted. Paul, a
Canadian living in the US, had a slight lisp. He had
a nose similar to mine... the hook. He had short dark
curly hair and a light beard. I liked his receding
hair line. Some men bald well. Paul was big and tall
and had a great sarcastic wit.
After dinner I sang my new friends some songs
accompanied by, Abuelita, my charango. I decided to
name her Abuelita because my friend Guillermo said it
reminded him of his grand mother... I was very touched
by what he said so the name stuck.
Over the next three days Amy and I became closer and
closer friends. We saw everything together. She
brought me to another party on the last night that was
particularly splendid. I met an amazing musician
singer... Pam. She had spent a good amount of time in
south America so we talked about Chile alot. She sang
some Silvio Rodriquez (an amazing Cuban folk singer)
tunes for me. I left Seattle on such a high. On the
way to the airport I met a few southern belle's they
were great fun. We talked about the south and about
music. I've become pen pals with one of them.

On the car ride home from the airport... it was great
to be with my brother Pascal, but the reality of being
home was not one that I was prepared for. I knew I
should have stayed up in Seattle and San Juan.

I am trying to make the most of my experience here
because I will not be leaving for at least 4 months...
possibly 2 years if I go back to school.

west marin memory

2009-12-05T08:40:00.000-08:00

This attic room belongs to the Nation Park Service. I was living outside of Olema Ca with my old friend a park ranger out in that area. I was a stowaway in an old farm house. Outside was an apple orchard and a fine garden. I was working in Bolinas at the lumber yard. This was a period of mostly bliss. The banjo comes from a small store in Fairfax that is no longer around. Silverbush i believe it was called. Amber Godden ran it and we went way back as friends to about age 10. The Djembe was my sister Mira's I bought it when she was selling it because i thought she might want it back later. It had an amazing tone especially in that room.

I was writing songs there. Watched butterflies warm themselves on the lawn. Since I was not working for the Park it was a bit sketchy. I'd stay away if we knew some official would be around. I fell in love with a couple women who were unavailable and somewhat manipulative. I had a radio show at that time in Pt. Reyes Station on KWMR. I've been listening lately to the old cassette recordings i made as i drive around Tennessee. This morning I dreamt of living in West Marin again. Climbing White's hill and counting off the small towns with names etched into my very belonging.

San Geronimo, Forest Knolls, Inverness, Jewel. Samuel P. Taylor, Devil's Gulch and you curve through the redwoods, the swimming holes and come to the top of the world. Where the gold grass and trees are permanently stooped. Put forth as an offering of the wind's hand. This place is where i long to stay forever without much. Maybe the sound of an occasional happening.

Pittsburgh

2009-09-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hey there it's been a while. Remember me? I had a stop over here once and stayed in hotel flipping channels. I think I ate at a place that looked like a castle?

That was years ago. Now cassie and i are visiting friends in Pittsburgh. The wonderful Smiths.

we went to one of the finest record stores i've ever seen

where i found 3 out of print LPs by my friend Andrew Calhoun

and a scratchy promo of one of my favorites Oscar Brown Jr.

it didn't have the cover but i wanted it bad. it is pretty rare to run across an LP by this guy.

and i just had to have Andrew's LPs. He used to come to Kerville to the folk festival. I remember it well. He'll always be there as far as I'm concerned. Singing.

We drove Andrew and Oscar to Irvington NY for a wedding. To Crown Heights Brooklyn. To Boston, Glaucester to see some waves and Shelburne Falls to my cousin's place.

and back to Knoxville Tn to home. to the crazy yard. full of rotting tomatoes and wilting leaves. Okra 6 feet tall. red and green. squash and ginger. bee balm with its tasty petals leaning every which way.

2009-07-31T16:26:00.000-07:00

summer pics

2009-07-21T20:16:00.000-07:00

2009-07-08T20:59:00.000-07:00

it's all possible. said the man with gunk in his eyes. to the corn stalk ribbed with color.

2009-07-08T12:29:00.000-07:00

thinking really really hard

2009-07-08T04:57:00.000-07:00

while watering the garden i noticed the chick peas are bowing out. while the okra is about to flourish.

2009-07-07T18:43:00.000-07:00

out in the canoe with shawn while fishing for trees. i caught a fish. he was too small to keep. and the trees too silent to name.

2009-07-06T19:27:00.000-07:00

not ready but i'm going to austin tx anyway. this thursday me and my wagon. yee haw

2009-07-06T15:30:00.000-07:00

i'm thinking about firing myself.

2009-07-05T19:55:00.000-07:00

a day fully realized. buffeted by a busy kitchen. a scenic drive. and the ease of passing showers.

2009-07-05T04:11:00.000-07:00

early morning rain. and i'm thinking of digging through record piles. to find a gem to listen to.

2009-07-04T13:10:00.000-07:00

our country is certainly not the purgatory of catch phrases. it's time to rest the old cliches. move onto a greater truth. happy independence from the machine.

2009-07-02T21:38:00.000-07:00

went to see a band. sat through the opener. they tried to rip my ears off. sat through set change music. "look into jah's eyes" was an actual lyric. went home. an $8 bike ride.

2009-07-01T21:03:00.000-07:00

been ready for bed for a long while now turning to the land of layaway sway

2009-07-01T05:07:00.000-07:00

last night the lights were on in the garden. they lit the ladder to the moon. a trance of evening. a chance of rest.

2009-06-30T17:02:00.000-07:00

the cat is licking his nutts. the gal is on the phone. and i'm typing naked.

2009-06-28T11:11:00.000-07:00

Concert tonight at my house. Danny Schmidt. Jonathan Byrd. Doug and Telisha Williams. 7pm

2009-06-27T09:39:00.000-07:00

farmer's market replete with baked goods. yelling kids. dogs. cucumbers peaking in greens. fountains. and foot steps.

2009-06-26T11:38:00.000-07:00

preparing the yard for visitors then resting on the porch. amazed at the activity around the lavender. abuzz bees and aflutterflies.

2009-06-25T06:26:00.000-07:00

the cat wants to go out. but he'll have to wait

2009-06-24T05:51:00.000-07:00

time to learn how to stucco

2009-06-22T05:53:00.000-07:00

able to wake slowly today. here are the thunder storm. here are the the wildflower.

2009-06-21T20:27:00.000-07:00

a tree down. scrambled road. turn away to detour. a tree down. a house nearly split in two. people standing talking quietly. continue home hoping everything is okay.

2009-06-21T09:23:00.000-07:00

fried and battered squash blossoms. red guitar. chrome plating worn into the fabric of sunday.

2009-06-20T06:09:00.000-07:00

freddie hubbard. walnuts. molasses. raisins. milk n cereal. will tide me over the mountain pass to asheville.

2009-06-19T20:08:00.000-07:00

cherokee is a road that winds its way into elegance. flirting with river wishes and lightning buggery.

2009-06-18T15:10:00.000-07:00

Playing acaustic music. Friday 7PM - Blackbird Cafe - Knoxville TN. Saturday 9PM - Rootbar - Swannanoa NC

2009-06-17T11:47:00.000-07:00

sleepy day. bee balm flowers taste as sweet as their deepest red.

2009-06-15T19:17:00.000-07:00

hey there people of knoxville i'll be playing at Blackbird Coffeehouse Friday. 7pm

2009-06-12T10:21:00.000-07:00

moved the old rotten wood pile. leopard slugs. small snake provoked toward biting. bald ground darkly revealed.

2009-06-10T14:22:00.000-07:00

another day leaning towards done. the corn grew a foot i swear. pretty soon ears.

2009-06-09T18:27:00.000-07:00

obsession with technology makes me late for dinner. breaking with a snack for the fire flies. now that's a winner!

2009-06-07T18:46:00.000-07:00

home. where the jungle has emerged. standing in the heat. home. a journey comes to a rest.

2009-05-22T08:07:00.000-07:00

okay so i didn't make new orleans but i promise i'll be in san marcos tx tonight at tantra coffeehouse getting my lotus on

2009-05-19T21:14:00.000-07:00

psst. i'll be in new orleans tonight at the neutral ground cafe. pass it on.

2009-05-19T07:39:00.000-07:00

listen to me live on WDVX.com at Noon today!

2009-05-18T19:45:00.000-07:00

Alexa Woodward and I will be singing our hearts in. Tuesday 7:30 PM at my house in Knoxville

2009-05-16T06:53:00.000-07:00

what is eating the eggplant?

2009-05-11T05:24:00.000-07:00

I'm selling my house in West Asheville. I'm not landlord material. http://ping.fm/CVLGq

2009-05-10T07:28:00.000-07:00

http://www.wwoz.org/ listening to my favorite radio station now

2009-05-08T06:52:00.000-07:00

on the road to slow recovery. thunderstorm shines and stomps. patterns patter and sway.

2009-05-07T06:29:00.000-07:00

lizard hanging out in my house. i put him in a to go container & set him free. the cat is still looking for it patting down the entire area

2009-05-05T16:26:00.000-07:00

my back went out. it stung as i took the scenic way home. clover fingerlings flowering white. the yard is a good place to be

2009-05-03T19:17:00.000-07:00

turning in. a day is done.