Here we go with another installment in the continuing adventures that constitute my experiences working for a temporary employment agency. This time I was working the night shift in a plant that manufactures steel and aluminum items for a very large American owned chain of home renovation superstores. The factory itself is pretty small, super laid back, and surprisingly easy on the body. I got to work at three thirty, and promptly started my first paid break. from three thirty to four. We worked for two hours, and had another break from six to six thirty. After another hour and a half of work, we took an hour for lunch. From nine to ten we worked, and from ten to ten ten thirty it was break time, again. We then did our final push, a total of a half an hour, before ending the day, eleven to eleven thirty, with one final break. All in all, eight hours paid for five hours work. Not bad, huh?

The workers were extremely welcoming and concerned that we didn't work to hard. That being said, there was of course the emphasis on efficiency that comes with all manufacturing and production type industries. Having grown up working on farms, it's kind of second nature to try to minimize non-productive movement, so once I got into the rhythm, it went pretty smoothly. As always, there was a job offer. "You seem to have some competence for this kind of work. Have you worked in manufacturing before," said my supervisor, in the thick accent of the Chinese proletariat. I could only chuckle as I said no, not really, and continued to package roof edge flashing into bundles of ten, as fast as the machine spit them out, which was a pretty comfortable pace, actually: just enough to keep warm in the cold warehouse.

During the dinner break, the Filipinos all brought out different dishes, heated them, and proceeded to have a potluck feast. I think the sharing of food in the Filipino fashion is one of the most interesting and positive cultural traits I have observed in my four years in this diverse city of Vancouver. What a great idea. One person brings chicken and rice, one brings those steamed pork buns, one brings something I can't really explain (but it smelled great), and they all get to have a quality, homecooked meal. It sure looked a hell of a lot better than my Pizza Pop (I was rushed).

Anyway, after only a minimal moment of soul searching, I decided not to fill out the application; instead, I'll continue to make the small bucks, and have the freedom to pursue my musical ambitions, while at the same time getting these excellent little glimpses into the lives of the blue collar Vancouverite in his element.
Scott

So.... it's 4:55 am.... I just finished drinking a coffee and I'm about to eat a chunk of tofu fried with a peice of onion, two old mushrooms and a clove of garlic, all mixed into a little penne. No sauce.

I didn't sleep, I couldn't. Just finished a nice painting project at the beginning of the week. Got a quote out half an hour ago. Did a piano lesson yesterday.

I'm about to leave the house and head out to Labour Ready. Gotta do something between contracts.

Hmm

I realized the other day that I had not written anything about the Cumberland shows, the two show weekend that capped off the end of our tour. I was thinking that it wasn't really fair that they be left out, even though, since we were home for five days before we left for those shows, it seemed as if they weren't actually a part of the tour at all, but a sort of quick weekend trip. Regardless, they deserve mention.

We seemed a little rushed leaving town. I had worked until midnight at the UPS plant the night before, for some extra cash, and I was a little harried as we left. Well, we were all together en-route to the ferry, when I suddenly realized that I'd forgotten my keyboard stand. There was no turning back.... it's not like I forgot my keyboard (which I have done before, at the start of the last tour no less). As we drove, I tried to find a solution. Two stools? No.... A table? Too much room on stage, doesn't look professional.... I had it! When we got to the ferry terminal, I called Jim (collect) and said, "I have no keyboard stand, or amp (long story, the amp)! But, if you bring the Hammond, I can put my keyboard on top! Then, if you borrow that Fender head and cab that we used for the album, I can put that on the leslie!" He didn't sound as enthusiastic about it as I was, but when I got there, sure enough, there was a hammond and leslie for me! We set up, and then set out to get some food.

As it turns out, there was a Taiwanese culture festival in town. Apparently, each year, this festival of paper arts, food, and Taiwanese culture, comes to Canada, and visits three towns, including Cumberland. Apparently, Cumberland was once the largest Taiwanese settlement in Canada! Who knew! (While we were learning this, we also learned another interesting but unrelated fact: that Texada Island, of all places, once had the only opera house north of San Francisco!) The story goes that a small Taiwanese town was once entirely employed making clothes for Barbie Dolls, and when Mattel (I think) pulled out, they were left with no source of income. Realizing that the only thing they did better than everyone else was make craft type things, they started making paper lanterns and doll clothes out of paper, and eventually hit the road, with great success. I tried their food; it was excellent (except the squid balls, which were free with the purchase of any three items). I especially liked the sausage, but apparently the resulting burps affected the entire stage later. The fish fries were pretty rad too: made of fish, taste like fries.

We went back to J and G's for a while. Laverne and the girls came, we set up our sleeping arrangements (I snagged a private room... wink, wink... sorry Heath) and then headed back to the bar.

The show was quite busy, partially, at least, due to Jim's local celebrity status as the bassist from Vitamin L and the Relentless Couchmen! Dance floor packed, we rocked until the bar closed.

The next day, Gretchen came to me looking somewhat perturbed. She said she had something to confess and she looked quite disturbed about it. Apparently, she'd come our room during the night, and was greeted by the shocking sight of me, naked, unconscious, and spread eagled, balls facing the door. Shocking! She had to tell me, she said, because she didn't want me hearing from someone else!

For the bulk of the day we hung out, eating fantastic Gretchen food, and watching Debbie take top honours at the poker tournament, after going heads up with Jeffrey. I gotta say, the girls are representing at poker these days!

All day, the snow just dumped on us. We were nervous that the show would be dead. On the way there, we hit a roadblock, and of course, they pulled us over, since we didn't all have seatbelts on. That was because there aren't any on the bench seats in the back of the van, but they still pulled us over. A cop came over and checked Sean's license. "From Vancouver?" she said.

"Yes," he replied.

"You're all from Vancouver?"

"Yup."

"Is this a road trip for you guys?" she asked.

"We're a band," someone said.

"We're playing at the Waverly tonight." I quipped from the back.

"Oh, are we holding you up?" she said, with what sounded like actual concern in her voice."

"Well, we're late for soundcheck," I said, from the back again. She hesitated for a second.

"Okay, be on your way," and just like that we were taking off in the snow, everyone warning Sean to "take it easy," "don't spin the tires," etc. Whew, being a band got us out of another one. We sure didn't want to get searched, even if pot is the major industry on the island.

We got the the bar and quickly called the house, warning everyone about the roadblock. The message got through and all of the rest of our crew was prepared.

The show was not slow at all! In fact, despite the snow and the travelling distance, we had a packed house. Rich's brother, who'd hitch-hiked from Victoria, opened the show. He played some jems, including a mini acoustic Beaver, and some French language song that sounded sweet and romantic but that Rich told us was quite vulgar.

There was a bit of tension as Verney and I listened to some redneck assholes insult us "hippies" (although why I get lumped in with the hippies I'm not sure) but soon the bar was jumpin', even the rednecks, minus a couple who had to try to act aloof as they had already stated their hatred of us. Must suck for them, having to hold back from grooving out of pride. It was fun to watch them hit on our girlfriends and get stuffed.

After the show we headed home, noting that some poor sap had been pulled over. Thank goodness that isn't us we thought as we drove by. It wasn't until we got home that we found out it was Gretchen and Andy and company.... Andy had been hanging out with Alice all night too! He pulled through like a champ.

All's well that ends well, and we headed back to Vancouver the next day. And that's that!

I've just spent the last few days working the night shift at a very large and well known shipping company's sorting plant, loading trailers. I am amazed at the shear volume of freight that is processed at this particular airport-area Vancouver facility. There are several other things that I found somewhat (but not entirely) surprising.

The first thing is maybe not entirely surprising: putting a 'fragile,' 'do not stack,' or 'this side up' sticker on a package makes entirely no difference in how the package is handled and really only serves to make the package the butt of various jokes (and even mishandling, in some cases).

Freight sent using Expedited, Express, Standard, or Economy service, is loaded side by side in the very same trailers, implying that higher service levels are only different from lower service levels in their price, not in their handling or their speed, unless the lower priced service levels are intentionally held on to for a couple of days at the end of the line.

Thankfully, I was working through a temp agency, and so I have no obligation to return. Although I was repeatedly offered permanent work (the supervisors were amazed at my natural ability to stack irregular packages into regular piles) I turned it down, as the pay rate is not in line with the wear and tear on the body.

This morning I woke up sore, and realized that this past week of manual labour has done wonders to undo the damage wrought by the last Slammin Jack tour. However, I don't think I could spend ten years stacking heavy boxes, working my way up from nine bucks and hour to about thirteen, no matter how good the benefits are, once they kick in after my first year.

One thing I never thought of when I decided I wanted to be a rock star was how quickly the lifestyle can take its toll on your health. I'm not talking about cocaine and rye filled nights, or the dangers of sleeping with groupies of dubious cleanliness. No doubt these dangers do exist, and although I wouldn't be admitting to taking part in such activities even if I had done so at any given time (I can neither confirm nor deny any such charges), I will admit to a somewhat less lecherous rock and roll lifestyle which is affecting my health in a noticeable way.

Some of you may be aware that on this past tour, the average age of Slammin Jack was approximately thirty years old. I was told all my life that my "fast metabolism" wouldn't last forever, and that one day I would start to notice the effects of eating however much I wanted, whenever I wanted. Now, I may have been able to squeeze a few more years out of that state of affairs, were it not for the long haul tours across this wide, wide country we call Canada. The major health effectors on these tours (at least for an independent, self financed band) are not drugs and STD's, they are beer, bar food, and eight hour van rides!

At the beginning of this tour, our bassist Jim stated his goal: to break two hundred pounds for the first time. Now, being 6' 5", two hundred isn't that fat; in fact, he is usually pretty much a rail of a man. About halfway through, we realized he was going to pull it off with no problems at all. Between homemade perogies and banana cream pie in Thunder Bay, thick cuts of wild meat in Belleville, numerous East Coast lobsters, mountainous plates of spaghetti and St. Andrew's cheese in Cornwall, burgers, fries, pizza and tacos in the bars, and beer all day every day, it was inevitable that we were going to put on some weight. Add smoking and sitting still for hours on end to the equation, and you can imagine the damage that can be done in only five or six weeks.

And it all comes down to this: I just came back from a twenty minute run. The last time I ran for exercise sake was when I played Rugby for Port Perry High. Back then I could run for ninety minutes with only momentary rests to catch my breath. Now, after about ten minutes I'm coughing and wheezing and spitting thick phlegm on the sidewalk. Oh, the horror in that young mother's eyes as I struggled round the corner and almost hawked a loogie on the child she was pushing in her stroller!

So, it may be a little past new years, but I've already gone for a run every day this week (starting yesterday), and I intend to right the wrongs I've done to my formerly healthy body. I know the repair will take much longer than the damage, but at least this past tour was only six weeks or so, and not six months. Maybe I'll be able to fit into those awesome bell-bottom cords by the next tour!

Okay, now that I am back in Vancouver for a few days, I can update the tour blog.

A lot has happened since the last update.

Our two shows in Saskatoon were absolutely fantastic. Since this update is going on the official tour blog as well I can only say that, in addition to our best Saskatoon turnouts yet, the events of the weekend were such that I wouldn't even have been able to make them up. You wouldn't believe me if I wrote them anyway, and so, I won't.

Valentine's Day in the Slocan Valley was excellent. The Little Slocan Lodge is something very special. Check them out before reading on:

http://www.littleslocanlodge.com/

When we got there, some volunteers were hard at work painting a giant Jack of Hearts for the show. We got our stuff inside and settled in for the night, feeling great to be in such a comfortable location among such great people. The lodge is truly amazing, and we just love it!

The next day I was up earlier than anyone, and I decided to go for a walk in the cold winter air, to maybe work off a bit of the beer and burger fat I built up this tour. I walked up the path, and there was a yellow toboggan beside the trail. I took a few steps past it, and stopped. I turned around, and looked at it.

"Might as well take it up the hill, just in case," I thought to myself. I took it by the string, and started up the long, steep trail. It took me a while and I was a little out of breath when I got to the clearing at the top of the hill. I looked forward. It was beautiful! I looked backward. It was steep. I breathed heavily, and then made a decision: screw the walk! I hopped in the toboggan and headed down the hill.

The trail had been worn into the snow in the shape of an icy bobsled track, and thank goodness for that, because before long I was moving faster than I had ever been on a toboggan. With a twenty foot drop to my right I made a hard left turn and started the long descent back to the lodge. About halfway down I started giggling and by the time I hit the bottom I was laughing like a maniac. My thirst for the outdoors slaked, I headed inside.

We spent the day lazing about, eating fine vegetarian food, and setting up for the show. Before long, friends old and new were arriving at the lodge. Our good friend Alice arrived too, and as you know, when she parties with us, the parties can get weird! We played four sets and a two song encore. The highlights for me were the weirdest Black Creek drum solo ever (Sean was somewhere in the cosmos that he's probably never been before) and Juice Pig. Gretchen and Earl seemed particularly affected by the skull-scraping sounds in the middle of A Hole...... There was talk of some Space Frog.....

After the show, a whole bunch of people went tobogganing again! This time, Brody pulled them down the trail on a huge toboggan, diving out of the way at the last minute! I wasn't going to go, in fact I had recently decided that I would never use a muscle again, and was having excellent luck getting people to pull me around on the floor, and turn my head to different angles when I wanted to look at something. Sometime after I decided I was only going to communicate through zipper sounds for the rest of my life, Gretched convinced me to go out by dressing me up in wings and a thneed (invented by Dr. Seuss, see the Lorax) and dragging me into the cold night. When I got there I realized the craziness that was going on. Jim had been chugging a beer every time he climbed to the top of the trail (and they had already been out there for hours), smashing the can, pocketing it, and heading down the hill...... you fill in the rest. We tobogganed until eight or nine in the morning.

I didn't sleep at all, so at around one in the afternoon I woke everyone up and made us leave. I wanted to get home to Verny more than anything, and the ride home may have been one of the longest eight hour trips I've ever been on. Thank goodness I was able to sleep for the first half.

This past weekend we played Sonar, here in Vancouver, and The Boot Pub in Whistler.

Sonar was excellent, although the double booking with the regular saturday Richard's on Richards urban top forty hip-hop night (which is moving residency to Sonar on Fridays) made for some weirdness. In the end all was good, and we had the opportunity to hang out with Baked Potato, Vancouver's newest jamband, and a good one at that!

Then, it was off to Whistler for what turned out to be a fantastic night. It was Jay Guthrie's birthday which basically meant debauchery for all. And oh, what debauchery. Once again, I can't put it in the blog... sorry, you'll have to use your imaginations (and unless you have one like mine, your imagining is likely to fall short of the truth).

Now, five days off, and then off to the island for a couple shows. I'll keep you posted.

Scott

I've only got a few seconds to update this blog.... I am way behind as I tend to get near the end of a tour. Things have been a little hectic as of late.

It is perhaps not a very well known fact that the praries in winter actually take on indeterminate physical dimensions, especially at night. As you drive along, time and space change form and you enter a limbo world where you simply move through the void much like a hamster on a cosmic exercise wheel. At times, the ground disappears underneath you and you are suddenly driving on a seething white cloud, going nowhere, not sure when the earth is going to spring back up underneath you. All you can do is hope that when it does, it is the road that jumps up to meet your tires. Sometimes, and this is infinitelymore exciting and frightening, the whole world disappears and you are flying, floating through the middle of a boiling, rolling, white cloud. At these times, all reference points are lost, and as the cloud is usually moving at right angles to your trajectory, it is very disorienting. When that happens you just hope to maintain your sense of which direction forward is, and keep pointed that way, so that when the earth returns, you are still heading towards your direction.

That's how it was on the long haul from Thunder Bay to Saskatoon. We were in and out of the clouds, alternately flying, and trying to maintain traction on the ice-rink roads. As we travelled across the plane that is the plains (I think prarie folk must have a propensity towards Euclidian imaginings), the only evidence of human habitation was lone earthbound stars, at unknown and unmeasurable distances from the road and us. Rich and I drove for eight and a half hours through this void, listening to the radio host tell us how the #1 was closed between Winnepeg and Regina, and how the #16 (which we were on) was under severe warnings of white outs and icy patches. Finally, Legba, or whoever it is that controls the Canadian roads and pathways (Legba can't have that much work in Haiti) decided we'd proven ourselves, and let us out of the limbo purgatory road system, and into Saskatoon.

That's it for now, I'll have to update more later. Tonight we head off to the Slocan Valley Lodge for the last show before I get to see Laverne again. I can't wait!
Scott

I am about to get in a hot tub. It's cold here. I can't wait to see you all back in Van! We play Thunder Bay tonight!

We survived the Maritimes and are back out in Thunder Bay. Every maritime show was fantastic! Here's the quick update.

Moncton was fantastic, the crowd was great, and the after party was fantastic too! The same goes for Antigonish. Maritimer's hospitality is legendary for a reason, and we were welcomed into homes and had a great old time!

Halifax was a blast as usual! The Attic crowd was enthusiastic and danced until the end. Afterwards we went to Craig Mercer's place and there we jammed and ripped it up on a sweet Rhodes 54, guitars, percussion, electric drums...

Saint John was a blast, arguably the best show of the tour. The kids came out and they ripped it up. The bar there, Nep-Tunes, was perhaps the oldest building we've ever played in. Aftwerwards, we again ripped it up with the locals until the boys had to call it; they wanted to make it to Quebec and stop for the superbowl.

It was a rough ride but we did make it to some highway motel minutes before they kicked off. We gambled and watched the game, and then slept for twelve hours.... the most sleep we'd had since before Moncton. That highway is like a Bermuda triangle; you can only go Nord or Sud, but there are different things on the side of the road depending on which way you go and what time it is. We actually got lost twice on the road without making a turn other than 180 degrees......

The next afternoon, we left the motel and drove straight through to the next evening, about thirty hours. Now here we are, in Thunder Bay, in -30 degree weather, fresh out of the pool and hot tub.... ready to rest for another night.

A few more shows, eight days, and I'll love every minute of it, but I've gotta admit that I've never had the itch to get back home to Vancouver like I do right now....

Scott

We're partying in the Nish. Meagan tells me that the afterparties here are as legendary as this one...... Julia's birthday is as shaggy as this red carpet. We're all just trying to keep it real.... feelin' it..... find it in fifth..... Antigonish, potatoes and fish!