We arrive at my brother's apartment after another late night in Yangon. Burma sleeps well tonight. But we don't. It's my last night of a month long trip to Southeast Asia. Five cities and three countries. I don't know what to make of it all. It feels like an endless weekend. And I love endless weekends. And now it's 1:30 am and I leave in less than 24 hours.
My brother picks up his guitar and plays a couple of chords he's been working on over the last few months. It sounds great. What it lacks in lyrics it makes up for in rhythm. It's got a folky twang to it. The type of song you'd hear from The Band; as if Robbie Robertson had drafted a prequel to The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.
And so we sat. Thinking about where those chords would take us. "To Carolina" I said. And so we wrote. As brothers. United with the power of a 4 inch blunt pencil and a piece of scrap paper. "It's got to be about lost love" my brother said, and of course it was.
We played it on and on. Into the late hours of the night. As if a month long trip had met its climax at this one song. But it's not about the song. It never was. It was the building of ideas. It was the stories shared between us. It was those few hours that made the 15 hour flight to Southeast Asia so worthwhile. It was one hell of a night. It was one night in Burma that I'll never forget.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Thursday, April 18, 2013
It's just a shot away.
You know those songs that just rub you the right away? A few weeks ago a friend from New York made a surprise visit to Vancouver. Sometime during the course of the weekend he played The Rolling Stones "Gimme Shelter." Everything about this song is fantastic and Keith Richards' Vietnam era riff is unmistakable. It's the kind of song from your childhood that played in the kitchen on a Saturday afternoon while your best friend's mom prepared lunch.
I recently returned from a trip to the Caribbean. I visited St. Lucia where a friend of mine lives and island hopped to Antigua where I had grown up as a child. My brother was the only family member that had previously travelled to the island and reassured me it would be a memorable trip. His experience was published in the Tyee soon after.
And so I sat - for 55 minutes until I finally landed at VC Bird International. "Welcome home" the Customs Agent said as she stamped my passport. A few minutes later I was picked up by one of my best friends who hadn't seen me in over two decades. We spent the evening catching up on our lives and reminisced about things we did as kids like boogie boarding at Half Moon Bay and attending vampire themed birthday parties. In the end we agreed that growing up under the Caribbean sun was easily the best childhood anyone could ask for.
One consequence of living overseas as a child is that it makes it difficult to determine where home actually is. Because of my experience I assumed I would follow suit and spend most of my life living on a tropical island with a permanent tan. But have I become too urban for such a small island? Most people would say yes. And after living in Vancouver for well over ten years, I would have to agree with them.
But then Duran Duran's Rio begins to play. And all of those hesitations and anxieties disappear. And I begin to feel somewhat tingly. You see, there's a certain charm to the islands. And when you hear those songs and watch those music videos you begin to question your decision. It really is the music that makes the trip. It really is music that ties our lives together.
Recounting stories of times past and seeing old photos of 80s bathing suits and shell printed beach attire, I can overlook the fact that it is a mere ten mile by ten mile long island with little to offer an urbanite. I see the island as something more than white sand, turquoise water, and friendly people. I begin to see it as a way of life. A childhood dream. A sailor's paradise. An island painted with khaki wearing inhabitants. Maybe, just maybe a move back to the islands is just a shot away.
I recently returned from a trip to the Caribbean. I visited St. Lucia where a friend of mine lives and island hopped to Antigua where I had grown up as a child. My brother was the only family member that had previously travelled to the island and reassured me it would be a memorable trip. His experience was published in the Tyee soon after.
And so I sat - for 55 minutes until I finally landed at VC Bird International. "Welcome home" the Customs Agent said as she stamped my passport. A few minutes later I was picked up by one of my best friends who hadn't seen me in over two decades. We spent the evening catching up on our lives and reminisced about things we did as kids like boogie boarding at Half Moon Bay and attending vampire themed birthday parties. In the end we agreed that growing up under the Caribbean sun was easily the best childhood anyone could ask for.
One consequence of living overseas as a child is that it makes it difficult to determine where home actually is. Because of my experience I assumed I would follow suit and spend most of my life living on a tropical island with a permanent tan. But have I become too urban for such a small island? Most people would say yes. And after living in Vancouver for well over ten years, I would have to agree with them.
But then Duran Duran's Rio begins to play. And all of those hesitations and anxieties disappear. And I begin to feel somewhat tingly. You see, there's a certain charm to the islands. And when you hear those songs and watch those music videos you begin to question your decision. It really is the music that makes the trip. It really is music that ties our lives together.
Recounting stories of times past and seeing old photos of 80s bathing suits and shell printed beach attire, I can overlook the fact that it is a mere ten mile by ten mile long island with little to offer an urbanite. I see the island as something more than white sand, turquoise water, and friendly people. I begin to see it as a way of life. A childhood dream. A sailor's paradise. An island painted with khaki wearing inhabitants. Maybe, just maybe a move back to the islands is just a shot away.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Caught in the middle.
You'll never touch these things that I hold. The skin of my emotions lies beneath my own.
How is it that a song has the ability to conjure up such emotion? I'm not the first person to state that. But how about those moments where everything is perfect. For those two hours time stands still. And you don't even realize it until five years later when you're meeting friends at a bar. And all of a sudden a melody strikes you out of nowhere. And now you're back. You're sitting there in the car late at night smoking cigarettes with your seat fully reclined. And you're staring up into the ice cold night sky through the sunroof. And life as you know it is perfect.
And it's great. But there's a time for everything. You're at a birthday and you are meant to be social. In fact, you're obligated to be social. It is somehow your duty to entertain the four people situated at your end of the table. And you love it. You're three espresso shots deep and it's 5 pm. And you've had a good day and you're in the zone. You are about to state your claim on some story that is both informative yet hilarious complete with hand gestures and facial expressions to match. And then Fiona Apple comes blaring out of the speakers. And you stop. And you look to your left. And your friend awaits with anticipation.
You're caught. And you don't care. Because something deep down inside you has triggered an important memory. And you tell your story. But you don't really tell YOUR story. You tell a story that has no relevance on your life. You want to tell YOUR story but you don't. So you excuse yourself. You grab your thoughts with a cigraette in your left hand. You sit there looking up at the very same sky you gazed at five years earlier. And you smile. You like how it's all turned out. You walk into the bar, sit down, and order another cranberry cocktail.
So is this personal? Not a chance. But you get the idea.
How is it that a song has the ability to conjure up such emotion? I'm not the first person to state that. But how about those moments where everything is perfect. For those two hours time stands still. And you don't even realize it until five years later when you're meeting friends at a bar. And all of a sudden a melody strikes you out of nowhere. And now you're back. You're sitting there in the car late at night smoking cigarettes with your seat fully reclined. And you're staring up into the ice cold night sky through the sunroof. And life as you know it is perfect.
And it's great. But there's a time for everything. You're at a birthday and you are meant to be social. In fact, you're obligated to be social. It is somehow your duty to entertain the four people situated at your end of the table. And you love it. You're three espresso shots deep and it's 5 pm. And you've had a good day and you're in the zone. You are about to state your claim on some story that is both informative yet hilarious complete with hand gestures and facial expressions to match. And then Fiona Apple comes blaring out of the speakers. And you stop. And you look to your left. And your friend awaits with anticipation.
You're caught. And you don't care. Because something deep down inside you has triggered an important memory. And you tell your story. But you don't really tell YOUR story. You tell a story that has no relevance on your life. You want to tell YOUR story but you don't. So you excuse yourself. You grab your thoughts with a cigraette in your left hand. You sit there looking up at the very same sky you gazed at five years earlier. And you smile. You like how it's all turned out. You walk into the bar, sit down, and order another cranberry cocktail.
So is this personal? Not a chance. But you get the idea.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
It would be a crime not to like this song.
This morning I had a fantastic breakfast at Latitude on Main Street. The coffee was hot and the cream was fresh. This is a pretty big deal considering the same was not true for my brunch yesterday. As I caught up with a friend of mine, I couldn't help but hum hum hum hum the tune of a song I heard the night before. For the next few hours it became my obsession. Strange how that happens. One minute you're going about your business - buying eggs or a jar of pickles and the next thing you know you are consumed by a song so powerful that all you really want to do is go home, put on some Roots sweatpants and hit repeat.
It all began last night at a karaoke bar in the West End; there really is no better way to spend a Friday night. At one point in the evening a young man with glasses and a navy blue t-shirt started singing a tune that I wasn't at all familiar with. I was sitting quite far away and was engaged in my own conversation. All of a sudden I heard this amazing verse and flute combination from the corner of the bar. Even my friend was mesmerized by this strange, yet powerful melody. Many will argue with me on this one, however I must admit that it is next to impossible for me to dislike Britney Spears' smash hit "criminal." Like all Britney Spears songs, the bridge is incredibly weak but in this song the verse and chorus make up for it.
Britney starts off with an understated verse that really sets the tone of the song; the flute playing in the background really ties it all together and the chorus prooves to be flawless. Don't get caught up with the lyrics as it is not this song's strength or priority. If you want to get down and dirty with some poetic verses, you're best to stick with Joan Baez or Cat Stevens. But if you're looking for some sort of unconventional adventure, play "criminal" on repeat and see where the evening takes you.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
You had me at lovesong
It occured to me recently that I am not the "spring chicken" I once was. I'm constantly reminded of this from my roommate of nine years. Despite this I find myself pushing the envelope or "burning the midnight oil" in an effort to maximize certain fun activities. But it all seems very planned out. What I've realized is this: I am no longer spontanious. Or at least I haven't been in years.
I was asked at lunch today what my most memorable date was. I instantly remembered a trip I took when I lived in Victoria ten years ago. It was a Tuesday night at 1:19 in the morning. There was no plan. But there was a woman. We organized a roadtrip within minutes and by 1:30 we were on the road. Our destination took us three hours west to Long Beach near Tofino. It was November and the clouds were low and there was slight rain. But it didn't matter. We stopped at the gas station on the way out of town. She bought bags of candy while I grabbed an extra large coffee.
We had breakfast in Tofino and joked about that being the name of a movie. We drove back exhausted after spending only two hours in town. It wasn't the destination of course. It was the music. It was the conversation. It was the silent moments we endured as we snaked through the mountain pass on the Pacific Rim Highway.
Somehow, somewhere that spontaneity got lost. The reality is I would love to take off to Portland on a whim on a Tuesday night. But that's just not going to happen. I am, however, willing to explore new opportunities, even if it is within the comforts of my own city... perhaps an all night coffee session at 2 am? Or maybe it will be an extended weekend spent on a dark desert highway with just the right song to tie it all together. Either way, songs are important. Almost as important as the adventure they serve.
I don't know if it's her sparkling personality or her subpar lyrics, but Selena Gomez' hit "Love You Like a Lovesong" is truly a treat for the ears. I first heard this tune on a 44 foot sailboat in early September. It was a nautical affair and we gorged ourselves with fancy cheeses, cured meat, and lots of sunshine. A friend of mine was obsessed with Selena Gomez. And so we listened to this song on repeat peat peat peat peat. The truth is, this song is hot. And if you are planning to take a trip, spontanious or not, you would be wise to turn this shit up and start your adventure on the right note.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Khaki revival.
It occured to me that I really need to take khakis to the next level. Most of you don't know this but up until recently I only owned one pair. People are in shock when they hear this and I can understand why. I'm a big khaki talker- but am I a big khaki walker? Apparently in the literal sense no, I am not. Until now. A few weeks ago I caught wind of a one day khaki sale happening at the Pacific Centre. I tuned into my ipod and headed straight there after work. The vibe in the store was electrifying. Men of all ages and of all heights were taking full advantage of the incredible deal of 40% off. I grabbed a pair of slimmer fitting khakis. I figured it was time to diversify. No regrets. They have now become my Wednesday routine.
The idea of a slimmer fitting pant originated from the owner of a mid to high end men's clothing store in Portland: Michael Allen's. If you happen to be in the Portland area- you will not want to miss out on some great sales and solid advice from a man who knows pants. Americans are great. We left the shop with our oversized Michael Allen's bags. People would stop us on the street and tell us what a great man this Michael Allen is: "such a nice guy and he's got such great sales." I loved it. My friend and I spent a good amount of time walking and talking and listening to great nineties songs. It was that kind of weekend.
We had a great soundtrack. It varied as soundtracks do and we managed to play some darker songs too. Take The Band for example, and their hit "Makes No Difference." Be prepared to shed a few tears as the bassist pours his heart into an emotional struggle with "these old love letters- I just can't keep. 'Cause like the gambler says, read 'em and weep." It really tied the trip together.
I think this revival in khakiness can be traced back to a movie I recently watched, "Midnight in Paris." Owen Wilson wears khakis in every scene. I've never seen anything like it. Wilson really pulls them off well, providing an "approachable and unassuming persona." His inspiration is contagious. And I am excited about it. I'm excited about the consistency these pants have shown over the years. Give it a try: blow khakis to the wind, you may just end up wearing a pair on a bi-weekly basis for life.
The idea of a slimmer fitting pant originated from the owner of a mid to high end men's clothing store in Portland: Michael Allen's. If you happen to be in the Portland area- you will not want to miss out on some great sales and solid advice from a man who knows pants. Americans are great. We left the shop with our oversized Michael Allen's bags. People would stop us on the street and tell us what a great man this Michael Allen is: "such a nice guy and he's got such great sales." I loved it. My friend and I spent a good amount of time walking and talking and listening to great nineties songs. It was that kind of weekend.
We had a great soundtrack. It varied as soundtracks do and we managed to play some darker songs too. Take The Band for example, and their hit "Makes No Difference." Be prepared to shed a few tears as the bassist pours his heart into an emotional struggle with "these old love letters- I just can't keep. 'Cause like the gambler says, read 'em and weep." It really tied the trip together.
I think this revival in khakiness can be traced back to a movie I recently watched, "Midnight in Paris." Owen Wilson wears khakis in every scene. I've never seen anything like it. Wilson really pulls them off well, providing an "approachable and unassuming persona." His inspiration is contagious. And I am excited about it. I'm excited about the consistency these pants have shown over the years. Give it a try: blow khakis to the wind, you may just end up wearing a pair on a bi-weekly basis for life.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Pacific Blue. I Love You.
I was recently asked numerous questions about navy blazers and the ubiquitous khaki. It has come to my attention that navy blazers are actually quite an appropriate touch to the khaki ensemble.
Navy blue and khaki are quite possibly the best colour combination ever. Looking for something casual to wear to that exclusive country club? This is your time to shine. My first compliment came from my sister in 1996. Back in the 90s baggy was in. As were khakis. As long as they were oversized and a shredded hem didn't hurt either. At the time, I was sporting a navy blue Benetton t-shirt complemented with a light khaki pant. "That outfit looks fantastic!" she said. Those four words stuck with me for years. As far as I was concerned, this was the only fantastic outfit I had in stock. It was no surprise then that two other friends ended up wearing an almost identical ensemble. The three of us shared a beach towel near a lake. Jokes were made. Laughs were had. "What team are you guys on?" I secretly cherished every moment; friends wearing khakis and navy blue t-shirts. It really couldn't have gotten any better than that.
And so here we are 15 years later. Except we've replaced the t-shirt with a perfectly fitted navy blazer. Perhaps it's a consequence of becoming older. I don't think we could have pulled off a blazer at that age but I am tickled by the idea. I've deliberated on the blazer for quite some time. Friends have forwarded articles with fancy pictures and diagrams. My conclusion is this: there are only a few articles of clothing that can make the khaki look even more exceptional than it already is. Cardigans are one. And so is the blazer. Try it out next time. You won't be able to live without it. And while you're sitting there in your most perfect outfit, why not listen to some "Sea Captain" by the Pawnshop Diamond. It would be most appropriate.
My love for this song began in 2009. I was attending one of many Pawnshop Diamond concerts at the Railway Club. As the percussion chimed in and the first verse opened up I couldn't help but lean over and whisper to the man sitting next to me "best song I've heard all year." The crowd agreed and we "cheered in a toast" to nothing but good times ahead. The song speaks volumes. It's got it all: a personal touch, history, and yes- even local references to British Columbia. It's a very visual song and you can easily jump on that ship and get away from it all.
So take a listen and grab a pair of khakis. And why not add a navy blue blazer. It would really tie it all together. Then join me on the Estevan for some afternoon English tea and cucumber sandwiches. Now, doesn't that sound like heaven?
Navy blue and khaki are quite possibly the best colour combination ever. Looking for something casual to wear to that exclusive country club? This is your time to shine. My first compliment came from my sister in 1996. Back in the 90s baggy was in. As were khakis. As long as they were oversized and a shredded hem didn't hurt either. At the time, I was sporting a navy blue Benetton t-shirt complemented with a light khaki pant. "That outfit looks fantastic!" she said. Those four words stuck with me for years. As far as I was concerned, this was the only fantastic outfit I had in stock. It was no surprise then that two other friends ended up wearing an almost identical ensemble. The three of us shared a beach towel near a lake. Jokes were made. Laughs were had. "What team are you guys on?" I secretly cherished every moment; friends wearing khakis and navy blue t-shirts. It really couldn't have gotten any better than that.
And so here we are 15 years later. Except we've replaced the t-shirt with a perfectly fitted navy blazer. Perhaps it's a consequence of becoming older. I don't think we could have pulled off a blazer at that age but I am tickled by the idea. I've deliberated on the blazer for quite some time. Friends have forwarded articles with fancy pictures and diagrams. My conclusion is this: there are only a few articles of clothing that can make the khaki look even more exceptional than it already is. Cardigans are one. And so is the blazer. Try it out next time. You won't be able to live without it. And while you're sitting there in your most perfect outfit, why not listen to some "Sea Captain" by the Pawnshop Diamond. It would be most appropriate.
My love for this song began in 2009. I was attending one of many Pawnshop Diamond concerts at the Railway Club. As the percussion chimed in and the first verse opened up I couldn't help but lean over and whisper to the man sitting next to me "best song I've heard all year." The crowd agreed and we "cheered in a toast" to nothing but good times ahead. The song speaks volumes. It's got it all: a personal touch, history, and yes- even local references to British Columbia. It's a very visual song and you can easily jump on that ship and get away from it all.
So take a listen and grab a pair of khakis. And why not add a navy blue blazer. It would really tie it all together. Then join me on the Estevan for some afternoon English tea and cucumber sandwiches. Now, doesn't that sound like heaven?
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