Review in The Coast

Thanks to Andrew Patterson for this thoughtful review: http://www.thecoast.ca/halifax/music-for-uninvited-guests/Content?oid=3331357

Learning how to read...

Performance of "Leading Man" at Wakefest, to a room of near-and-dears; filmed and posted by Chrissy Shannon:

Wakefield

Thanks again to festival organizers, Alasdair and Elizabeth Gillis for an amazing time at Wakefest. Bruce played at the Black Sheep Inn with Shannon Ross and Matt Ouimet, to a generous and genuine crowd that kept the music going. Other highlights for me included introductions to the work of author, Terrence Rundle West ("It's about history, that's all. History...") and photographer Franziska Heinze ("It's a good thing we have so much drama here in Wakefield..."), and swimming naked in the Gatineau River with best friends and solid strangers. A truly dynamite summer send-off.

Happy Birthday, MB... this one's for you.

BP had a great couple days at the OTHERfolk festival, playing at the Roxy Theatre with Elliot Brood, First Rate People and Mary Cassidy. Thanks again to Josh and Aly for having us down, and to the festival volunteers for making us feel at home.

Before leaving Owen Sound, Kari Peddle, Neil Haverty and I made a short two-part video at the Days Inn. I know that sounds like a racy disclaimer (“the night we turned into that kind of band”), but get your mind out of the gutter and just go have a look. 

Linda Blair, you look fabulous—PART ONE

Linda Blair, you look fabulous—PART TWO

book on screen.

For those of you who want to read your copy of Music for Uninvited Guests in print and on screen simultaneously, the pdf download is ready when you are. I'm looking at you, Ma. xo

file name "blog violence"

The conversation was about scary movies: who likes them, who doesn’t. I used to like scary movies, but I watch them less and less. The older I get, the more I catch myself welling up at nonsense commercials and wincing at scenes of graphic violence.

I like scaring myself, though. I used to feel secretive about it—the periodic desire to dwell on dark fantasies—but the older I get, the more I see the possible benefit of it (when done in moderation).

Sometimes I let my thoughts travel very far, through the woods, up the mountain, until they come to a precipice. It is at this edge where the preciousness of life feels so real to me, that I become afraid. So afraid that if I could grow roots and plant myself, I most certainly would. And I would never ever leave, never ever go anywhere, and people could come to me if they wanted, just like the birds go to the branches. My thoughts can go farther now than they could go even as little as a year ago. Reflecting on past excursions leads me to believe that this precipice is a moving line.

I asked myself once, realizing I was in control of all these thoughts: Why do I choose to scare myself sometimes? Why do I bring myself to that place in my mind? Some people jump into the lake at night even though they’re afraid of not knowing where the bottom is. Or slip into lucid dreams to induce the experience of flying—even though one time, a pair of hands came out of the darkness, and they woke up on the verge of being yanked into nothingness. Why do they do it? For me, it’s a strange clarity that hints at an almost unreachable idea of fear being like a friend. Not the kind of fear that conquers you, but the kind that you can simply count on being there. The kind of fear that has a willingness to know who you are that maybe even exceeds your own willingness to know yourself. A bizarre mechanism of self-acceptance, even more bizarrely gift-wrapped in something that scares the living shit out of you.

My eight-year old niece: Can you get married in a pant suit?
Me: Absa-fuckin-lutely.

Bruce Peninsula just returned from a magical Sappyfest 7: Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. Just two weeks before that, we were at the Dawson City Music Festival, feeling similarly enchanted on the other side of the country. Thank you Paul Henderson, Jon Claytor and Jenna Roebuck, for being masters in the art of bringing people together. Thanks for winding your heads up tight so the rest of us can go responsibly wild for a few days.

Music for Uninvited Guests premiered at Sappy, probably the most safe and loving book launchpad a writer could ask for. If you're reading it, I hope you're enjoying it in your own way. I can assure you there are at least five good lines in there--which, for a first book, would be totally dynamite.