Condensed Milt

Gimme Sympathy - Acoustic

2009-05-18T12:32:00.001-07:00

Such a crush What a crash Headfirst in luv
I can feel it in my bones The flesh is weak

Greetings friends of Scotty Hard, aka Scott Harding.

2009-02-15T12:49:00.001-08:00

Brother Mike chimes in with an update for 2009. It is amazing what a difference a day made, in the words of Dinah Washington. And it is amazing what love and friendship can do in a simple year's time. And it is humbling to know what we cannot do.
And through all of this, we continue to marvel at the man himself, and how he chooses to live his life.
No is not an option.
Scotty Hard is made of Hard stock; anyone who has met his father, and had the opportunity to enjoy his mother, or the equally talented brothers, Mike and Brian, know the Hardings are a special stock.
In this time of bailouts and stimulus packages, it is inspiring to know that we can all be stimulated by the gift of friendship.
Love to Scott, Mike, and all Hardstockers.
Dennis
http://www.densemilt.com/http://www.holyhardstock.com/http://www.workhardprayhardscottyhard.com/
----- Original Message -----
From: Tom Camuso
To: Leif Arntzen
Sent: Sunday, February 15, 2009 11:44 AM
Subject: 2009 Update from Mike
Dear Friends of Scott,
About a month before Christmas, Scott made the unexpected decision to come to Vancouver for the holiday, after we had realized that there was really no place where the four of us (Scott, Dad, Brian and I) could spend it together in NYC. Very fortunately, Heesok was also visiting so Scott got the same flights and had a much needed travel companion. I had not seen him since August at Mom's funeral and I was looking very much forward to seeing for myself how his life has progressed since leaving Beth Abraham Rehab Centre on September 5th. Since then Scott has been living in his own apartment in Bedford-Stuyvesant in Brooklyn in the same building as his good friends Joel and Rachel and not far from Heesok and Carrie.
Being in his own place for the first time since the accident in February was always going to present new and difficult challenges. The change from institutional living would not be easy or simple. Managing dozens of everyday tasks from a wheelchair, with only the use of your body from the mid-chest upwards... During this transitional time, before he can live fully independent, Scott has four full-time, around the clock home health aides (they work in 2 12 hour shifts per day) to help him with household tasks, dressing, showering, turning him over every two hours at night, accompanying him to therapy and doctors appointments and other things.
So after a lot of preplanning with Scott, scouting suitable accommodation, booking and hiring a home-care worker, gathering supplies and other logistical things, Brian and I picked Scott and Heesok up in the middle of Vancouver's worst snowstorm in (30?) years at 1am on Dec.22. For Scott to get around requires more planning and consideration than just, 'We'll pull up'. First you have to find an area that he can even get up to and of course at the airport the snowplows had just pushed massive piles of snow from the road up all over the "Handicapped Loading Area", rendering it utterly useless, which any person with an ounce of brain matter could easily have figured out as they were doing it. So we have to park in a bus zone and get yelled and screamed at by the 'parking diva' until she sees this guy in wheelchair and then shuts up... Find just the right spot and angle, maneuver the chair into position, everything has to be all lined up just so, and then he can do the transfer into the vehicle, fold the chair up into the trunk and then you go. Then of course it all happens in reverse when you get there. My Dad's place would be have been totally inaccessible to Scott but for us serendipitously receiving a motorized stairway-chair from a family friend who passed away. And here too it's an equally involved scene as the one for the car.
Just getting around takes up a huge amount of Scott's time and energy. Going for the 'convenience' of the wheelchair cab isn't always the better alternative either. Vancouver cab drivers couldn't miss an opportunity to shame themselves in this painfully prolonged run-up to our "Great International Showcase". (Hey, I'm sure taxi companies are huge supporters of the Paralympic games). A bunch of us involved in the Hardstock Benefit shows gathered for a great lunch at Hy's downtown, organized by Dennis Mills. Afterwards Scott, Juliana and I tried some Christmas shopping in the snowy, messy downtown. To get home we waited over an hour and a half for a cab that - as far as we know - is still coming. Attempts at flagging just ended in drive-offs (is that a word?). Last option, we took the subway/skytrain (make sure the elevators are working!) and then literally 'plowed' our way through a few blocks of snow to get home. This kind of treatment was a revelation to me (maybe it shouldn't have been), but I guess it's reality when you are disabled; constant reminders that some people want to push you aside and forget about you. Scott has stories of being left at the side of the road, stranded(!), by Access-A-Ride, of their constant lateness or taking the wrong routes to his appointments and ending up in the wrong part of town. The good news is that Scott's gearing up to start taking the bus on his own soon. Small steps towards more independence!
Mobility in his own neighbourhood in Brooklyn is also far from ideal as the sidewalks are in poor condition and the ramps often not usable by wheelchairs, severely limiting his ability to get around. He's hopeful of moving to a new place in downtown Brooklyn where the streets are better maintained and lots of shops and other things are within easy 'wheeling-distance'. This potential new place is somewhat smaller but set up much better for wheelchair accessibility. Affordable, (wheelchair)-accessible places are not easy to come by. But even this, despite gargantuan month-long efforts - thanks to Carrie Goldberg, Lauren Hall and Cate Oberg for steering the application process - is far from certain to happen. For Scott it's just not as simple as: 'Hey, I think I'll move...there!'
All of these obstacles and more Scott is meeting with a kind of equanimity and poise that I could hardly imagine myself summoning were I in his place. Spending time in Scott's orbit you'll come to greatly admire, as have I, the quiet resolve he brings to this day-to-day struggle.
Scott, as ever (he hasn't changed in that way), prefers to dwell on what's positive in his life. So we talked about the new studio and the work that's gone into it (mostly done by the indefatigable Tom) to make it accessible for him; his successes at setting up a small but useful work space in his apartment and the good feeling of being able to do some work again. Of the joys of being able to see his many friends in his own surroundings, to cook dinners, watch TV and just hang out together. A huge and welcome change from previous. About the slow but steady progress he makes in his various rehab programs. He takes occupational therapy and physical therapy three times a week at NYU/RUSK as well as his own 'self-directed' weight-workouts in the gym at Heesok's building multiple times a week. Beginning in a couple of weeks he is starting tai chi classes. All that in addition to irregular doctor and social worker appointments for blood tests, check-ups, etc.
Just because he was in Vancouver, Scott decided that his traditional Boxing Day's Party shouldn't have to be cancelled. (Americans: What is this 'Boxing Day'?). Some used the weather as an excuse to jam out, those who didn't discovered what a a brilliant cook Brian is and a novel and potent concoction called 'Bushnog'. Scott was truly in his element here holding court before many dear and long unseen friends. Ya missed a great one.
For the next few months Scott wants to really concentrate on his health and his re-hab program. With the new studio in Greenpoint nearing completion there will a be chance to ease back into some part-time work, as it goes. Being with and around Scott on a daily basis for a full week really illuminated for me the grinding details of the life that's been cruelly imposed upon a totally innocent person. Living across the continent it can become all too easy to forget that he's now living on such a radically different level than ours. Brian, Dad and I want to acknowledge and thank the people (too many to name all) who have been so central in supporting Scott in the past year, especially: Tom, Leif, Christina, Heesok and Carrie, all of whom I've had the privilege of meeting and spending time with.
It's been almost a year since Scott's accident - but really this is just the beginning. There is still so far to go, so much to do, so many challenges to be met and overcome. I hope that all of you have a chance to be with Scott sometime soon and experience the dignity and courage he exhibits and with which he will ultimately conquer this enormous test. Scott truly values and needs all of our support, in whatever form or amount. Please go to the links if you want to contribute, organize a supper or just drop a line to say hello. Thanks to you all for keeping Scott in your thoughts this past year and I hope you'll continue to do so.
Mike Harding
http://www.scottyhardtrust.com/
http://www.scottyhardsuppers.com/

Scotty Hard in the House of Hy's

2009-01-03T13:11:00.000-08:00

Just before Christmas 2008, Scotty Hard returned to Vancouver. I had the privilege of taking him to a hockey game, where we got the Royal treatment in the box, and then a Vancouver's bums rush on curbside waiting for a handicab.
Ran into Mr. Northey and Bentall though, so all was good. Next day, enjoyed my first facial and a steak and martini lunch at Hy's with the Hardstock steering committee. We had two important visitors from NY- Dr. Chang and Mr. Hard. Ok, maybe he isn't a doctor, but he can operate.
Sampled the Bushnog at Harding house on Boxing Day, and was caught out playing Scrabble with the Maggot, Manny and the Mrs and little Alexandra. Icer and Drowners.
And 2009? Happy Hardstock!

Road Rage - the Beast is Loose!!!

2008-11-30T11:01:00.000-08:00

Today I invite you to visit my secret blog site, www.holyanger.com
which is no longer secret. There you will see the dark side of this dense one, as I tell my Mr. Hyde story.

http://www.holyanger.com/

Mad Max R.I.P.

2008-11-23T10:59:00.000-08:00

Mad Max is gone to Live Under the Big Bed. Friday November 21, we woke to a house without Max. Could not find the little guy, who loved to live under the bed(s). An all out search ensued, and Max could not be found anywhere in the house. We looked in the back yard, thinking that somehow the poor little guy was forgotten outside overnight. We could find him nowhere, but the sky was still dark as the day was young.

We looked down the street, we searched the house again, the garage, the closets, under all the beds.

I went back out into the backyard for another search, as the light was improving. I looked into the pool. All I saw was leaves and debris, and a curious shape just before the pool drops off into the deep end. All nerves, I went to get the net. I nudged the leaves, hoping they would all disperse, but no.

Poor Max had fallen in the pool at some point, and his cold little body was lying at the bottom of the pool.

I pushed his body toward the shallow end with the pole, and went inside to let my wife and daughter know. At that point, all hell broke loose as our grief and shock realized that

Max was not under the bed, but was truly gone.

He was not a young dog. He was very old, and in very bad health. But he was always the old soldier, bravely going up and down the stairs ( well, we carried him down most of the time), and for over a year had been disoriented with a brain tumour.

At some point, one of us had let him out, and he had fallen in the pool. It was a horrible accident, but unless you had been there at the exact moment, the result would have been the same. I had saved him about a year earlier in the black of night when he fell in. But this time, this time, there was no one to help. It is hard to know if he stumbled in, or if one of the other pups gave him a nudge in good fun that proved fatal. There is nothing to be gained from any more understanding or information. He lived a long life, was truly loved, and when the time came, this was how his life ended.

I will always miss my Max. The crazy little schnauzer with the big heart.

From My Conversations with Dog

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Another Breed

Two years ago my father died, and two months later my father-in-law died. It was like losing two Dads.
I had grown very close to my father-in-law, having lived in the same house with him for about 9 months as cancer slowly took his life.
A few years before that, he and his wife took in Max, who is pictured here. Max had come from an abusive relationship. He was almost autistic; very stiff in his musculature, he did not like to be touched, and did not respond to the usual games. He liked to bite strangers, including two Jehovah's Witnesses, a paperboy, and my brother-in-law. He would jump up as he barked, and bounding across the lawn, he looked a miniature guard dog as he tore to the perimeter, ensuring that noone came into the yard. We had to hold him back when we brought friends to the house.
Slowly, over the last three years, and especially since the loss of his master, Max has become more lovable, more socialized, and a beloved part of our family.
In the past three years, he has endured about 7 operations. Three years ago, a tumor was removed from his hind leg. Six months ago, we removed it again. Yesterday, we had to remove it for the third time.
This was a decision not taken lightly, as the cancer has burrowed into the surrounding tissue, very close to the femoral artery. The vet was worried about potential blood loss, as he was operating. We did not know this prior to the operation, only that the anaethesia could prove difficult for his lungs. Unfortunately, the tumour had grown to such proportions that we were also worried it would rupture. Max is about 14 years old, we think. We don't really know. In many ways, he would suggest a younger dog, but the math seems most probable that he is about that age. He also has cancer in brain, causing him to circle sometimes, or lose his balance and fall over. He "shakes" it off, and carries on. Our vet is amazed at Max's ability to withstand pain. What would put any of us over, is not ever acknowledged. He is like an old soldier, another breed, a member of the generation that we are all losing now, like my dad and father-in-law. A tougher class.
I salute this little schnauzer for his bravery and his heroism as he battles this enemy from within. He is an inspiration to us all.
Posted by Dense Milt at 11:22 AM 0 comments

Subject: August update - from Scott!

2008-08-23T16:17:00.000-07:00

Greetings all the many people who have asked to be kept in touch with what is going on in Scott Harding's life. This month's update is written by none other than Scott, himself.
Just believe in the big guy and say the following:
Scotty Hard Will Walk Again.

To: Leif Arntzen
Sent: Saturday, August 23, 2008 8:02 AM

Well, it's about time for one of these things to be written by yours truly, so here we go.This month has a very intense one, to say the least.On July 17th, I received a call from my brother Mike, telling me that my mother was in the hospital.She remained there for 2 nights with dangerously high potassium levels. They were able to bring her levels down,and keep them down, so she was allowed to leave the hospital on Saturday, the 19th. She had been battling cancer on and off for 16 years, and had been diagnosed again in 2005 when spots appeared on her liver. She subsequently received chemo that winter, and had been fighting it ever since. After spending the weekend talking to my Mom and Dad and brothers, I decided I needed to get out and see her. I spent the next week negotiating with the Beth Abraham administration and my therapists for a leave of absence. It was decided I could go for a week, and I scheduled my trip for the following Friday. It was the soonest all this could be organized, given all the particulars that needed to be sorted out. Christina Campanella offered to escort me out to Vancouver, and my dear friend Susan Fiedler got us tickets with her air miles. We were set to go. I spoke to Mom on Tuesday night (the 30th) while my Dad was at the airport picking up Brian, who was returning from Europe after having just done his first cruise. She sounded very weak, and was only able to say a few words at a time. I had a bad feeling that night before falling asleep that I might not make it to Vancouver in time. My fears were confirmed the next morning, when Mike called at 10am telling me Mom was dead. She had passed that night peacefully in her sleep. I was of course devastated by this news. My mother and I are very close, and she meant the world to me. It would take pages and pages to describe her and her wonderful life. Suffice to say that she will be missed greatly by me and my brothers and father, and to countless other people around the world. Heesok came up to the Bronx shortly after my call to him, and Sebastian and Leif came later than evening with some chicken and a few beers. So glad I had some good friends who could come and be by my side that day.On Friday morning, Christina arrived and we set out on this long journey. I wasn't feeling ready to make a trip like this at this point of my recovery, but I didn't really have much choice. It wouldn't be the first time I've jumped into the deep end. The trip started out poorly, as the limo company we had schedule days before didn't show up. They are called Lincoln Limousine, if you care to boycott them. Put them right up there with Metro Line car service in Brooklyn. After calling the local Bronx car service (2 minutes!!), a black Town Car arrived. I quickly abandoned my aversion to riding in said vehicles, and after a sliding board transfer, we were on our way to JFK.We checked in for our Air Canada flight at the United Airlines check in and were informed that all we needed to do was go to the gate. OK, seems normal. Next thing we know, we're standing at the top of a long staircase that leads to our gate, and after much inquiry, find out there is no elevator to this gate. So, back through security I go (Christaina's not allowed to come with me), through several back doors and corridors, and wind up at good old Gate 11. At which point the gate agent gives US shit for not telling them that I was in a wheelchair!!! OK, now we know. Make a very obvious point of telling EVERYONE along the way that I'm in a wheelchair. Even when I right in front of them. In a wheelchair. The rest of the trip was fairly smooth, and next thing ya know we're in rainy Vancouver, greeted at the airport by Chris and Clara and my brother Mike. Needless to say we were very glad to get there.The funeral was scheduled the following Thursday, so the rest of the time was spent seeing a few friends, making arrangements and putting together a collage for the memorial. As well as getting a feel for life back in the real world. I was given a wheelchair accessible apartment across the courtyard from Mom and Dad's place by their good friend Pat O'Rourke. A lift was installed at their place by Mike, Pauline and Simon Kendall, and their son in law Vince. And a ramp was built for the steps leading up to the front door by Simon and his buddy John. Many thanks to all those good folks. Couldn't have made it up to the apartment without those things.My Uncle Mike and our cousin David came out from Paris, Ontario, my Mom's hometown, for the funeral. Mike made a very emotional and touching speech and Brian wrote and performed a song with Finn Manniche (from our old band the JD's) on cello, Simon on piano, Randy Murray on bass and Willie Miles singing. My Mom had a big hand in preparing the service, and many of her friends participated by reading, giving communion, preaching and celebrating the service, as well as providing refreshments at the reception. There was a large turnout, and I saw many people from the past to the present, all of whom gave great tribute to my Mom's life. Mom's friend Linda St. Claire presided and Peter Elliot, the dean of the Cathedral, preached. They both did an excellent job that would have made her very happy. And Barry Cooke, her oldest friend from Paris, gave a speech and told a few story's of their early years.We returned the following day to New York. The return trip was far easier, as we had a much better idea of what to expect, and my old friend Ray Tseng hooked us up with passes to the first class lounge at the Vancouver airport, as well as seats in executive class. Nice. Thanks, Ray.I can't say I was glad to be returning to Beth Abraham after a taste of freedom, but there seemed to be unfinished business in terms of my rehab. The next week I finally made it to my Access-A-Ride evaluation with the help of Marc Berg, and went and picked up my new glasses from the optician here in the Bronx. That's another long story I won't get into. After returning to the Physical Therapy that afternoon, I learned that I needed to be re-admitted to the program. The next day I found out I had maxed out in PT (graduated??), but that I would continue doing Occupational Therapy till I leave. That led to the inevitable question of "When?". Well, it looks like that could be as soon as the first week of September, so there's some good news!That's about it as we head towards September. I hope this finds you all well and healthy.

Bests,

Capturing the Moment

2008-07-13T10:42:00.000-07:00

It was a morning in October. I was sitting at the desk blogging when I heard a thud against the window. A few seconds later I heard a second thud, and I rose to look out the window. Below me on the ground were two birds, robins I think.

One was lying there - the one in the picture- and one was standing guard over her, waiting for movement, a sign of life.

I watched them for about five minutes, and neither of them moved.

I went downstairs, and quietly opened the door. Still, no movement.

The bird in the picture was dead, killed after crashing into the windows, once or twice. The other bird was watching her, like in the song Someone to Watch Over Me. He did not move as I approached. I gently motioned toward him with my foot. He did not move. I touched him very gently. He did not move.

I saw a neighbor and motioned for them to come over and witness this with me. She said, Oh my god, Robins mate for life. One is the female, and the other is the male. He won't leave her.

We both approached, and still, no one moved.

I said, I've got to get a picture of this. I went inside to get the camera. As I came out, and prepared to take the photo, the male bird finally moved, and flew off. I had missed my opportunity to capture the moment.

Still, as you have read, the moment was captured in my memory. The scene of devotion, and connection, and reverence touched me. It still does. Many people talk about birds and animals as if they have no feelings, but it is obvious they have complex emotions. What was going on the bird's brain and heart as he stood guard over his beloved? What was he feeling? Could words express his loss? One moment they were flying, and the next moment, life changed for both of them in a way that neither could imagine. Not that different than our lives, is it?

It's Not Pilates, but Your Abs Look Fabulous

2008-07-05T10:04:00.000-07:00

If talking about it makes you uncomfortable, try sitting on it. Try ignoring the Elephantiasis in the Room. Recently I had some minor work done on my messy bits; or was that messy work done on my minor bits? Expect a little swelling, they said. Minor....we stress the word MINOR. And yet, it appears that minor through the magnifying glass that is the male eye, is the elephant in the room. Put a sock on it. Well, keeping your cards close may work in poker, but rarely is your deuce quite as swollen as after 'minor' surgery.
I went to emergency two nights after to enquire as to how botched the job appeared to be. "Looks like its healing. It's bound to be tender."
Hey, we're not talking about filet mignon here. Stoically I suffered for about 10 days until I saw the perpetrator. Dr. Perp. "Everthing looks good. That's healing nicely." I told him that I would have killed him 7-10 days earlier. "Why do you think I schedule these appointments 10 days later?" Why is that the Doctors Down Under all have such a Don Rickles bedside manner?
"Give it 3 months, and if you are not happy, come back and see me." Like food preparation, its all time and temperature. Shorts help, giving freer access to "adjust" at will.
Thank God I never took yoga too seriously. Just think if men could lick their wounds like dogs.
We'd be walking around with Elizebethan collars. Cajone Cones. Pardon me while I adjust myself.

It is what it is

2008-06-27T21:50:00.000-07:00

The words of Todd Bertuzzi are becoming a catch phrase in this part of the woods. Part defiance, part resignation, part reality, and part of the family. Today is my father's birthday. Except Dad, or the part of his ashes we cast to the sea, is no longer with us. He is resting or floating in English Bay and beyond.
My father was a wandering soul in life; he may have floated over to China. Or maybe he only made it half way- vacationing in Hawaii.

Hell, he could stay at the time share we still have yet to sell.

For a time in the sixties, he was a travelling salesman . Did he get mad and quit the steady job? Was his famous temper part of the reason for the departure? It is what it is.

He had a family of seven to support. This is a concept that is hard to fathom today. For whatever reason, he was usually gone. On the road. Home on the weekend. The Weekend Dad. Late for supper, with a friend invited at the last minute. My theory is that he needed his space. He loved his family and my mother, but he needed his space.

My mother was a quick-change artist. We grew to like our chicken white and dry, because well.....it is what it is. When your husband is late, and you keep the kids waiting for him to be home for dinner, the breast of a chicken can get a little dry.

When he came home, Dad would head to the yard to mow the lawn, or "build". He helped me build something for Scouts. I found out at the race, that he had put it together backwards. I was a bit ashamed, as he had done all the work, and here it was backwards. But we ran that race, and came in second. Backwards!

In later years, he would putter and build and buy things he didn't need, but most importantly, he would volunteer. He volunteered for the Association for the Advancement of Retired People, or AARP. One day, he went to the Governor of Washington's office to present the Governor with an AARP card, as he had just turned 50, my age. My dad had a heart attack in the Governor's office and died. But the story does not end there.

But because he had lobbied for cardiac resusitation equipment for the Governor's office, the aides were able to bring my father back to life. A defibrillator later and he was volunteering more, making sure that this type of emergency equipment was available in every senior's center in many counties in Washington. He lobbied for senior's rights and care,and even had a law named after him in Washington state, The Fred Mills Act.

In the end, which was two years ago, he drowned in his own body with a condition they call congestive heart failure. You fill up with fluids, and your heart becomes too strained to pump the blood, so the fluids continue to build, and slowly you drown. In your own body. Your own worst enemy. It is what it is.

Today is his birthday, which is a day of celebration. So I celebrate his life, as I would not be here without him. I didn't always like him, I even thought at a time that I didn't love him; unfortunately, there were times I did not respect him.

But we are a complicated beast. There were also many times I did admire him. And I will always love him, and I grew to respect the part of the whole of the man I called my father.

We are not perfect, and he wasn't perfect, but he was perfectly my dad. And in the end, I love him. It is what it is.

Kirby Ferguson is Goodie Bag

2008-06-17T13:28:00.000-07:00

http://www.goodiebag.tv/episodes/10_the_fag_bomb.htm

Check out Kirby Ferguson, another very funny Canadian ready to enter the US and change the way you laugh.

Happy Fathers Day

2008-06-15T10:23:00.000-07:00

Some traditions never die

even though we all will someday

there will always be funny hats

and someone to take pictures

of Sons and Fathers wearing funny hats

and that is a good thing

Happy Fathers Day, Dad

I raise a virtual glass of Ballantynes to you today.

Cheers

Your # 5 son

Happy Fathers Day

2008-06-15T10:16:00.000-07:00

Fatherhood

the only job that requires no training

should definitely require training

wheels

pants

Should definitely require pants

29 years of waving his hands in the air

2008-06-01T08:26:00.000-07:00

The Angry Young Man is no longer as angry or young. Like a fine wine, aged and mellow, corked, turning to vinegar, the sediment rests on the bottom of the bottle until it is stirred, not shaken. Hardstock 08 was everything and more, raising more money for Scott than even we thought we could (almost $25,000). But on a deeper level, it brought people out from the shadows and grips of the computer and television screens and lawn mowing, and bathroom cleaning that is their everyday life. People were given the opportunity to reconnect with friends in a far more personal way than even Facebook. I say that without sarcasm, as Facebook is quite amazing in its ability to reconnect, and to bring together people who really don't know each other. We now have friends, and Facebook friends. And often, the Facebook friends become real friends. This is the real gift and purpose of these shows. Networking sounds like something that only guys in suits can do; in reality, we all are linked in so many ways. Often we just need a small push in the right direction, and then the magic happens.

Holy Hardstock!!! Another Extravaganza

2008-05-14T23:00:00.001-07:00

Ladies and Gentlemen

Its the Return of the Hardstock Spirit

as we present:

Holy Hardstock!!!

An Evening of Music and Inspiration for Scott Harding

Friday June 13 at Christ Church Cathedral

corner of Burrard and Georgia

Featuring:

The Jazzmanian Devils

Jim Byrnes

Simon Kendall

Something about Reptiles

John Korsrud

Brian W. Roy Goble (from the Subhumans)

I Braineater

Sandy Scofield

Trevor Jones Arntzen

Beatrice Smartt

Bernie Boulanger

Clare Love

Bob's Lounge

Doors 7:00

Music 7:30

All Ages Welcome

Advance tickets $25.00 minimum donation

At the door $35.00 minimum donation

100% of net proceeds to The Scotty Hard Trust

Tickets available soon at Christ Church Cathedral Parish Office, Noise2Go, Red Cat Records, and Zulu Records.

Inspiration

2008-05-03T10:59:00.000-07:00

Inspiration from the word meaning breath, to breathe life into a person, an idea, breathing a dream, it comes alive, ITS ALIVE!!!!, Wait Jean, I'll strike a match....Meter still on and gas escaping.....describes our precarious balance.
Oxygen, for the breathing, for the blood, in the sky, all around us, within us. Fire, the spark, the flame, that warms and ignites, Wild Vision and fuel and that burning sensation.
Wait Jean, I'll strike a match.....Heart still beating and breath escaping.....the events of the last two weeks have now slowed....from 40 emails a day to 5. We raised just under $25,000 for the Scotty Hard Trust at Hardstock, still working out the details. The next show is Friday June 13 at Christ Church Cathedral- Hardstock presents HardLove- is there any other kind worth having?
Artist submissions still welcome. Contact me at whiterockstar@shaw.ca

Kinnie Starr-just added to Hardstock 08

2008-04-19T16:52:00.000-07:00

Who sounds like sade greets neil young while kissing plug one on the lipsand listening to outkast ... who just HAPPENED to be thinking about debbieharry?????

KINNIE STARR!

I am proud to announce the additioni of Kinnie Starr to the lineup of Hardstock 08.

To learn more about Kinnie read on:BIO: from www.kinniestarr.com

The Kinnie Starr you already know: MC-singer-poet-actress-beatnik -musicmaker - who was born in Calgary, became her adult self in Vancouver,and was raised on heavy doses of Zeppelin, Sade and De La Soul's DaisyAge.... Discovered she could kick it live one night in NYC (1993), when anopen mic called, and the crowd carried her through three blazing encores("edgy... enchanting," said the New Yorker).... Tidy (Canada 1996; U.S.A.1997) was the first of Starr's four records - her new one is calledAnything, but we'll get there in a minute - which drew critical acclaim fromall corners."An artistic, feminist, angry, well-articulated rant of the highest order,"said allmusic.com; "raw, funny and definitely an original," added the Globeand Mail.... Kinnie was a lead player in the alt-indie film Down and Out with the Dolls(filmed in 2001), directed by Kurt Voss (of Sugar Town fame).... Two yearslater, she lived and worked in Las Vegas, singing for Zumanity, Cirque duSoleil's controversial cabaret production.... and she found a new,comfortable home at MapleMusic Recordings releasing Sun Again in 2003- plusa publishing deal with Last Gang Publishing and their partner company Olé, …the same year Kinnie earned a Juno nomination for Best New Artist.... Alsoin 2003, Starr co-wrote Carmen Rizzo's Beso, a song for the soundtrack ofthe acclaimed film Thirteen... In 2004, U.K. production wizards Hybrid andBlackwatch cut body-rocking club remixes of Starr's song Alright (ReleaseRecords), a Sun Again stand-out.... She performed at the 2005 NationalAboriginal Achievement Awards… Kinnie has toured Japan, the U.K., the U.S.A.and Canada in the past five years - which brings us up to speed with thehere and now.... "A lot of people who love hip hop love what I do, because I'm doing my ownshit," she says. "I try to uphold the old-school MC mentality when I'm onstage - taking the crowd along with me, rather than just playing songs atthem. That's more like a rock 'n' roll mentality, to just slam the songsout."But wait, there's more: Starr has another body of work in progress, acollection of four-track songs that she's self-producing on a well-used,much-loved Tascam 564. "They're quite sparse, sort of Joni Mitchell-ish, butthey're not really folk songs, they're tipped towards jazz and old-schoolMotown ballads." She has twenty songs in progress, and hopes to releaseten - when they're ready.... Kinnie has started writing for the nativepublication Spirit Magazine, and recently interviewed Daniel Lanois for its upcoming spring issue....

"I write a lot, and very quickly these days, offthe seat of my pants," she adds. "If I'm driving I'll pull over, or I'lltake my sketchbook out and put in on my lap while I drive if I can't pullover."

To listen to her music: http://www.myspace.com/kinniestarr

Open the Doors and See all the People

2008-04-14T21:17:00.000-07:00

Now that's how to dress!

One of the great by products of incredible misfortune is that this kind of news attracts back friends that you may have lost touch with over the years. Such is the case with my buddy above, who was motivated to contact me to help our Scotty, and hopefully come out to the coast to see the incredible lineup we have put together for Hardstock 08 at the commodore on April 25.

Bamff

2008-04-07T00:21:00.000-07:00

Bamff was and is the musical creation of Danice McLeod, one of the original U-J3RK5, "the seminal Vancouver artrock band, including Ian Wallace, Rodney Graham and Jeff Wall.

I have not listened to Bamff for some time. One of my favourite U-J3RK5 songs was "Marnie" about the Hitchcock movie. Marnie. Marnie. MARNIE. Cue the psycho violins. Like the movie, I mean. Shower scene. You know. There was always a Tippie Hedron vibe to Bamff but warmer, sexier. coy and kittenish. The sly smile as she named a song Little Bush ( for her cat).

Bamff was also notable for Scott Harding's contribution as main partner from 1983 through 1988. Bamff was also the start of his recording career. Scott got his initial studio engineer training with Ron Obvious at Bamff's studio, Crevice Tool Clean Sound while "Come Outside" was being recorded and mixed and assisted with the 2nd album under Greg and Glen Reely, John Switzer and other engineers/producers. Scott also played on the 2nd. and UNRELEASED Bamff album,"Frankly I Deserve Nine Socks".

Danice is one of those Vancouver icons that deserve more ink than they received, not only for her music, but for her contribution to the start of Scott's career. He was in both videos "Crevice Tool" and "50 Miles" from that album, and both were on REGULAR rotation at Much Music in 1987. He was credited for co-writing the songs “Crevice Tool” and “Pony Hips” and full credit for his instrumental “Endless Discretion” all on Bamff’s 1st album “Come Outside”, released on Mo Da Mu in 1987.

I remember when she asked me whether I would mind if she covered a Rhythm Mission song I had written, Words Fail Me. I barely remember the song, but maybe I'll find a copy of it somewhere. Now it's my memory that fails me, not just the words. One thing I will never forget is going out to dinner with Danice, and I forget what triggered it, but Danice offered to buy a round of Spanish coffees for the table. It was a perfect gesture of kindness. I could use one now.

Today's mantra is Maggots Love The Meat

2008-04-05T09:12:00.000-07:00

Blog-a-hol-ic: One who creates blogs like Angelina Jolie collects children. I have a new blog to let you know about: http://www.maggotslovethemeat.com/

It is rather self-evident. No head scratching needed. Its my new slogan of the week.

I could post pictures of the human variation of this particular phenomena; I am not above this type of thing on a primal level. But evolution provided me with a human brain, as opposed to a reptile brain, so I choose to focus on the points of greatest leverage.

Today's post on http://www.maggotslovethemeat.com/ is "Never did the flesh fly ask why". When the choice is meat or quantum theory or the existence of God, the flesh fly enjoys their prey; they honor their host with their presence, and when the meat is gone, they move on.

Hardstock 08 A special benefit for Scotty Hard

2008-04-04T21:34:00.000-07:00

Visit www.hardstockforscottyhard.org

for more information.

Sometimes you have to wear the stretchy pants...

2008-03-30T11:52:00.000-07:00

Mexican wrestler bobblehead has the shakes
like Parkinsons for toys
Collect them all:
Cancer Boy Bobblehead
Heart Attack Dense Bobblehead
Transgendered Barbie Bobblehead
The possibilities abound, and shake a bit too
For a good shake, read Stanley Elkin's The Magic Kingdom.

"Abandoned by his wife and devastated by the death of his twelve-year old son, Eddy Bale becomes obsessed with the plight of terminally ill children and develops a plan to provide a "last hurrah" dream vacation for seven children who will never grow-up. Eddy and his four dysfunctional chaperones journey to the entertainment capital of America—Disney World. Once they arrive, a series of absurdities characteristic of an Elkin novel—including a freak snowstorm and a run-in with a vengeful Mickey Mouse—transform Eddy's idealistic wish into a fantastic nightmare." http://www.centerforbookculture.org/dalkey/backlist/elkin.html#magickingdom

Since the blurb above does no justice for the novel, we present the NY Times hyphenated dictum:
"As always, Mr. Elkin plays the crazy music of his prose—takes off at the hint of a theme on his soaring funky riffs and jazzy blue notes. Not only among Elkin's best works of fiction, but a comedy that cuts so many ways that it leaves us bleeding with laughter."—Christopher Lehmann-Haupt, New York Times
It is Sunday, and I'm in a weird Sunday kind of mood. Drove the family to the airport for their Sun vacation get-away at 4:30 (OUCH) took the dogs with me to minimize the noise for the rest of the sleeping household, returned about 5:30 and we all went back to bed. Thought it was 11:00 so I woke feeling refreshed, only to discover it was really 9:00. Now I feel the lack of sleep. Read the newspaper, scanning for jobs, and the inevitable collapse of our local hockey nightmare. Still waiting for the call from unnamed rock group to "seal' the deal for the first of two big benefits for Mr. Hard.
Some people give without asking. Right away. No questions asked. Special shout out to the Pointed Sticks, Frank Frink, Swank, Dark Blue World, Sandy Scofield, John Korsrud, Clare Love, etc. Others, you call and immediately its What can I do, of course, I'm in.
And still others...what are they thinking...I don't know because they aren't talking. I'm getting the Silent treatment. Doctor, there's a radius clause in my contract (that sounds like something you should get checked out). I hear its bad for him but did I tell you about my aunt who had a dog with wheels for legs.....the list goes on.
Hey Les, it's all just bizness, don't cha know. Well, excuse me, but there is a prince of guy who would give any one of you Schmohawks the button down shirt off his back. And he is lying on his back in a hospital in Bellevue with a parade of friends bringing him a picnic because he deserves a parade. So do something.
I'm talking one night....a few hours....and we have the opportunity of raising what some of us earn in a year for a guy that has no health insurance, the SOB's responsible have no insurance, and ....and.....Calm down, Les. It's only Chinatown.
It's all going to work out. We'll have the shows. We'll have the picnic. We'll even have a parade, for chrissakes. I'll be the one out in front. You'll know its me because I'm the one giving my head a shake.

Put your feet(s) up

2008-03-29T14:01:00.000-07:00

This weekend we are hosting a housefull of relatives, combined with the usual dogs, which is why I am recommending putting your feet up and reading a good book.

I am reading Our Ecstatic Days by Steve Erickson at the moment. Normally I have a few books on the go. Other books in the rotation include Your Brain on Music, and the new Eckhart Tolle.

I am waiting on the confirmation (fingers crossed) of a major rock act to headline the first of two benefits for Scotty Hard I am trying to organize.

Hopefully we will hear soon, but no sense worrying. I have a backup plan in mind, as well. And a backup to that. Once again, no sense in worrying. Like the girl says, "And how's that working for you?"

I've found through my own personal research, and the countless advice of countless experts, that worrying doesn't accomplish much more than adding stress. It doesn't solve the issue, or further along the progress. It is not strategic thinking; it is non-strategic thinking. So put your feet(s) up. Relax. Read a good book, (or blog!) Take a walk. Pray for Scotty's recovery. Pray for your own recovery if applicable. Enjoy a glass of Pepperwood old vine Zinfandel -very nice.

Listen to NPR. Write a poem. Learn French. Go for a workout. Eat lunch. Just don't worry.

There are much better ways to use time wisely or unwisely.

The Devils in my Heart

2008-03-26T22:11:00.000-07:00

"The Only Devils in this World are those running around inside our own hearts, and that is where all our battles should be fought." -Mahatma Ghandi

Three weeks after having my heart attack, I was waiting in a small closet sized room in St. Paul's hospital wearing one of those hospital gowns that leave you feeling cold and vulnerable from the draft coming in the back of the gown. I was waiting for someone to tell me what happened next.

Just before seven in the morning I arrived and had been given an injection of a radioactive dye. This is so they could determine the extent of damage to my heart from the heart attack. I was told to go out to eat a small meal, and come back in about an hour or so.

After my return, I lay down on a table, while a great white machine hovered over my head. My body was transported back and forth under the machine, while it performed its medical magic like a shaman holding his hands over my body chanting and waving a smoking brush.

My next stop was waiting in a closet sized room prior to undergoing the actual stress test, which involves being hooked up with tiny electrodes and many wires attached on your chest. You are then asked to run on a treadmill, until your heartrate reaches what the technicians deem to be a satisfactory result.

Two nurses, a male nurse from South Asia, and a female nurse from Germany, bartered over who would do the honors of shaving my chest hairs to attach the electrodes. The female nurse won the bet. She entered the curtained room and asked me to drop my robe, so that she may shave parts of my chest.

Using a disposable Bic, she dry shaved a few patches and attached the sticky pads of the monitors. I told her that I was a bit nervous about taking the test since I had my heart attack only about three weeks prior.

She said, "You should not worry. This is why you had the heart attack. You have to learn to let go, and go with the flow. I can see you are too young to have had this heart attack. What you have had is a little temper tantrum in your heart. Now you must learn to not worry, to relax, and just go with the flow."

It is amazing how messages are sent to us, and surely, I was receiving one at that moment.

There were devils running round my heart, jumping up and down, having little life threatening temper tantrums, acting like the nihilistic spoiled inner child they were. Anything just to get a little attention. Except this time, the teenage wasteland, the punkrock deathwish had gone too far.

She ushered me out of the closet into the exercise room, and I began the treadmill test for another cardiac nurse. About 5 minutes into the exercise, I started to feel faint.

When asked if I wanted to stop the test, I said yes. What happened next I would not wish on my worst enemy.

Because I had not been able to physically finish the test, I was injected with a drug to artificially induce my heart to reach certain rates. Who doesn't love being injected with unknown drugs?

I'm joking, but at that moment, I did not have much of a choice. The thought that I could say no did not enter my lexicon.

What happened next was worse than having a heart attack, at least for me. I felt tightness in my chest,and the sensation of someone kicking me hard again and again in the stomach. At the same time, my head felt like it was about to explode. It was a Jack Bauer moment, and all I had in the way of relief was the ticking clock. Just three minutes and we will give you the antidote.

I was groaning and swearing and there was no going with the flow here. Just one minute and we will give you antidote. AAAAAAAH! JUST TWENTY SECONDS AND WE WILL GIVE YOU THE ANTIDOTE. IT WILL REACT VERY FAST, AND YOU WILL BE BACK TO NORMAL.

Except after the 20 seconds, I didn't feel normal. So then she said, you can take a break now. Go and have yourself a coffee, and I guarantee you will feel better.

Well, I had that coffee, and I followed it with a decidedly non-cardiac breakfast of chorizo sausage and eggs. I definitely went with that flow.

Ten days later I was given the good news by my cardiologist that I was lucky, as the tests showed that my heart had good flow, and I had suffered no significant damage from the acute myocardial infarction I had experienced in Atlanta.

The devils in my heart were not running my world that day. And the way to keep them from running, was to follow the advice of that small Germanic nurse, who told me to let go, and go with the flow.

Originally posted Sept 25 2007.

In the six months since I wrote this, I made a few changes. To the post, and in my life. My body has never been in such good shape and fitness in all my life. I do push ups and sit ups and work out 3-4 times a week. I am back working, and most importantly though, I am back playing. Not music yet. But soon. My love of writing has returned, and beauty of family and friends has helped to remind me daily of the possibilities.

If the Globe is warming, why am I freezing my ass?

2008-03-25T22:57:00.000-07:00

Out for a spring walk in the frozen north, a buggy full of boy. The sky is heroic, the shadows intrigue. What is the shelf life on a boy these days?

After my recall scare last year, I can fully attest to my products integrity. Made for comfort and speed.

I have five blogs on the go at present, three dogs and wife and child and a brother in law to boot.

But I'm learning to relax and go with the flow. Flipping the channels the other night my daughter and I came across that doctor show with Billy Ray Cyrus and some lady was continually interrupting, talking over the action with a blow by blow description of what it was that was going on. Turns out it was the Vision channel. Now both my daughter and I though the Vision Channel was an end of the dial Christian end of the world channel; turns out that its a channel for the blind.

The voice over tells them what they are watching, as the dialogues reveal the story. Just that day I had lunch with an old friend who teaches music to the deaf. Did you hear me? Music for the deaf. It is a transformative world we live in. There have been many changes in the past years; while the media feeds us a steady diet of fear and frolic, with a dash of toxic Brittany, life slowly changes before our eyes. Only there is no voiceover telling us what is going on.

So stop for a moment. Breathe. Clear your throat, cough up the hairball, and step right up. Its the greatest show on earth, or the only show we got. So love the one you're with MORE or learn to love a stranger until they are no longer a stranger, but a friend. Transform and you can extend your shelf life.

Things have changed...

2008-03-24T23:56:00.000-07:00

A worried man with a worried mind

No one in front of me and nothing behind

There's a woman on my lap and she's drinking champagne

Got white skin, got assassin's eyes

I'm looking up into the sapphire tinted skies

I'm well dressed, waiting on the last train

Standing on the gallows with my head in a noose

Any minute now I'm expecting all hell to break loose

Chorus

People are crazy and times are strange

I'm locked in tight, I'm out of range

I used to care, but things have changed

This place ain't doing me any good

I'm in the wrong town, I should be in Hollywood

Just for a second there I thought I saw something move

Gonna take dancing lessons do the jitterbug rag

Ain't no shortcuts, gonna dress in drag

Only a fool in here would think he's got anything to prove

Lot of water under the bridge, Lot of other stuff too

Don't get up gentlemen, I'm only passing through

People are crazy and times are strange

I'm locked in tight I'm out of range

I used to care but things have changed.

I've been walking forty miles of bad road

If the bible is right, the world will explode

I've been trying to get as far away from myself as I can

Some things are too hot to touch

The human mind can only stand so much

You can't win with a losing hand

Feel like falling in love with the first woman I meet

Putting her in a wheel barrow and wheeling her down the street

People are crazy and times are strange

I'm locked in tight I'm out of range

I used to care but things have changed.

I hurt easy, I just don't show it

You can hurt someone and not even know it

The next sixty seconds could be like an eternity

Gonna get low down, gonna fly high

All the truth in the world adds up to one big lie

I'm in love with a woman who don't even appeal to me

Mr. Jinx and Miss Lucy, they jumped in the lake

I'm not that eager to make a mistake

People are crazy and times are strange

I'm locked in tight, I'm out of range

I used to care, but things have changed