Yankee Candle

This is a small piece of light.
Smoke drifts up, the scent of a gumdrop Douglas Fir,
unquestionably inedible.

Scratched out years on a prison wall.
Here to mark the lesson learned.

The anchors of my family have sunk into the sand.
Recycled into another’s responsibility.
Another young couple’s highly-stipulated gift.

Christmas, for me, has not changed.
I feast on the pictures of children
and I admire the old bar-patrons
using, re-using this seasonal excuse, but betraying complaints
with a small light behind the eye. Red. Green. Silver.

I bought this candle because you did not think that I would.

I’d never thought of sealing the lid to put out the flame,
watching the smoke curl. Smoke always curls,
as the Train curls through our part of town, groaning at 4 a.m.
to tell me I’m crazy.
And it’s time for the goddamn sweetest of dreams,
where I can’t hurt anyone, at least.

Tomorrow I will complain about Christmas.
Look for the light.

Melbourne

So, here’s some pics from my phone.  A beautifully intimidating snooker shop, the Burns Hotel and pub, the vehicle we SHOULD be riding in, The Old Crow Medicine Show, and the alley behind my apartment.  More to come.

Tasteless joke for today. (Very bad)

So, a woman’s in the hospital giving birth. She spends a couple hours in labor and out pops a baby boy. Immediately, the doctor cuts the umbilical cord, holds the connected end, and begins to swing the baby around his head in a big circle. He slings the baby against the wall, picks it up, and throws it out the window. Of course, the mother is hysterical. “What are you doing?! Oh my God!?, etc…” The doctor catches his breath, looks at the mother, and says with a big smile, “April fools! It was stillborn!”

Things That Rock (pt. something)

Edward P. Jones’ “The Known World”

Beatles remasters

Jim Lauderdale’s general disposition

Best American Non-Required Reading 2009 (esp. “the Chameleon”) 

BOTH my football teams, for once. (Saints and Crimson Tide)

Using the phrase “Roll Tide” as a general affirmative or congratulatory statement, as in A: “My daughter’s getting married.” B: “Roll Tide.”

35mm Film

Anvil

Heirloom tomatoes and cheap, hot onions

The Showboat Saloon in Wisconsin Dells

Jimmy John’s

Clark Damn Howard

Waning interest in the UFC

Reaching the age in which you refuse to engage in a trivial argument with your parents

Lindsey Buckingham

Fall of the year

NPR’s This American Life

West Virginia (It’s true.)

Local bar regulars who are originally from another country

The G7 guitar capo (best accessory ever)

Billy Reid Boots 

The Fail Blog

People who could actually live off the land if need be

Here’s Some Cool Stuff

335 and Big Red Chair

Little Brother, Chantry, 13

Benji Hughes

At Dinner

Here is a gracious host
and the claret has produced a sheen
on the table, set.

Here is a small sound.
His home, not claiming enough space
for its distance.

“You only get one chance to be my son.”
Clearing through the creak
from another room, distracting.

I listen for something accidental.
These small sounds are made for me,
and he ignores them, as does the rest
of the party.

She is waiting, somewhere
in the recesses of his booming, lonely voice.

Big Weekend

 

photos by Erika Goldring.  reserved.

 

So, we were able to attend the Americana Awards at the Ryman on Thursday, and I was grinning from ear to ear all night long.  Here’s why-

 

Yep.  That’s me and Buddy Miller.  We’re playing “Dixie Chicken” with an all-star cast.   That’s not the only reason for the grinning, though.  Throughout the course of the night, I had friendly and sometimes enlightening conversations with Buddy, Brian Owings, Jim Lauderdale, John Hiatt, John Prine, Patty Griffin, Kenny Aranoff, my old buddy Spooner Oldham, Brady Blade, Mike Farris, Justin Townes Earle, each of the Flatlanders, and on and on and on.  I even met Joe South.  He told me to tell Rick Hall he still loves him.  I never thought I’d be the messenger of such.  

We didn’t win album of the year, Buddy and Julie did (deservedly, of course) but the picture at the top of the post is worth more to me than a thousand awards.  See who all you can spot.  

We went from there to Bristol, TN/VA, to play the Rhythm and Roots Reunion.  Browan and I played in front of a Christian radio station banner during the afternoon, and Justin Townes Earle joined us that night for a rousing full-band version of Springsteen’s “Atlantic City.”   

Late Saturday night, to celebrate “talk like a pirate” day, Jimbo and I stole a boat and went for a joyride at Fall Creek Falls state park in Pikeville, TN.  We were there for a private party to celebrate the matrimonies of Jill and Scott Dunn.  Congrats and good luck to them.  We had a great time, and we returned the boat, even though the battery was dead.    An incredible weekend.

Hey everybody!

So I’m doing a little blogging now.  Lots going on these days, and I thought some of you might want to know how we’re getting along.  The Americana Awards are Thursday night the Ryman in Nashville, and of course excitement abounds.  Personally, I’m looking forward to seeing lots of old friends and hearing some great music.  Here’s a picture-

The 400 Unit Massager

Thought you’d like to see that.  That’s not where we got the band name, but simply a beautiful coincidence.  You should get one.    

After the award ceremony, we’ll be headed to Bristol for the Rhythm and Roots Reunion on Friday.  We only have a few shows left before the year’s out, since we’re planning on taking a couple months off around the holidays.  If you want to see us, you best make it happen before December.  Here’s another picture-

This is what I’ll look like if you see me in December or January.  Not very exciting for spectators, but there’s no cover!  

I’ll also be listening to The Beatles quite a bit.  The remasters are totally worth the money if you’re a geek like me.  I will not, however, be playing Rock Band.  I don’t like video games.  I like Sigur Ros.  I’m going to be writing lots of new songs, too.  I started on one a few days ago.  Here’s a sample lyric- 

I wasn’t in the mood for a disaster.

Not quite prepared for it’s change.

The games that I thought I could master

Eventually turned very strange.

It’ll be on our next record, probably, whenever we get around to recording again.  

-Jason 

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