Proud to be included in Marion Luttenberger’s WHO KNOWS project. Check out her progress as she meets different people in Vancouver and takes their picture. 

Marion is a very talented photographer and designer from Austria.

Cail Reviews 38 Bar Blues by C.R. Avery for Discorder

It’s a fun jaunt through C.R. Avery’s book of brass-knuckle poetry. Enjoy.

Cail’s Show Review of CR AVERY @ the Waldorf

“I truly believe he could be the next Springsteen.”

The man can sing. 

Sun Wizard // Slam Dunk // The High Drops show

Review by Cail Judy

My last piece for May; a review of Vancouver rockers Sun Wizard, live at the Biltmore.

Also, I can’t say enough good things about The High Drops.

You can also read:

Miracle Fortress

38 Bar Blues by C.R. Avery

Cail’s Miracle Fortress Feature in Discorder

I highly recommend picking up the new Miracle Fortress record. Check out the article to see why. 

“I didn’t set out to do any kind of music that had a name. It was an organic, experimental process.” —Graham Van Pelt

Homeless man reading
Hemingway by the fire
He looks up and smiles.

This is the winning haiku I wrote for the Mount Pleasant Library poetry contest.  I am now the proud owner of a VPL eco pen. 

—Late afternoon

I’ve been exploring the neighborhood around the Dairy Queen. Empty. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen another person. I used to hope that I would spot somebody walking towards me from the distance. We’d stop at first, realize we were seeing another human being and run full force for each other, eagerly awaiting the chance to unleash our inner monologues on an eager audience. I am starved for another. When I was a kid, I used to wish for the power to enter any story and meet the characters therein. I used to find great pleasure in reading.  I would partake in reading over spending time with others. My circle was small. The people I dealt with were few and that’s how I liked it. That’s what I loved about Alaska. You communed with God and with his bounty. There wasn’t another person there to fuck it up. That was my choice, to remove myself from the shit storm that middle America had gotten itself into. I wanted to make my mark on the world itself, not the world of men. But I realized that Adam was lonely for a reason. When you talk to nature, it doesn’t talk back. Sometimes it awes you, humbles you, petrifies you. But it doesn’t speak to you. I didn’t realize how much I missed speaking. Two years without speaking and now when I talk aloud my own voice seems faded, like a picture left out too long in the sun.

There are a great deal of houses in this area. Once you get off the main street, there are quaint homes all around. It’s a rather beautiful day. The sun is out but there are no birds. No buzzing of insects. Just the dead weight of mother nature’s absence.

Food is getting hard to find. I found an old corner convenience store. There were a few bags of potato chips. I stuffed them into my canvas bag, gingerly closing the top, careful not to crush my joy. The remainder of the store was picked clean.

by Cail Judy

August 2008

Photo by Mason Judy