Snow Days

I got my hands on the newest Mogwai album last night. listened to it front to back, then again this afternoon at the ski hill. Such a good band. The line up of songs have that slow Metal Heavy build that breaks in a moment of sublime. The distortion is Brilliant, the composition of the tracks made my heart swell. sometimes I can feel the music trickle through the outer layer of my skin as a tingling sensation starting from the base of my brain down the spine and out my finger tips. This album did not fail to make me feel this.

A good friend of mine lost his father on Saturday. I don’t know the details but I had no idea. The last time i saw that man he was stronger than an ox. The world lost another Legend.

It seems the good ones are getting out now, while the going’s still good. 

R.I.P Ronald Lloyd.

At some point on the morning of March 23rd 2012 my Grandfather, Ron Lloyd passed away in his bed at a hospice in St. Catherine’s, Ontario. My father was at his side. They say he wasn’t conscious but he could hear, the hearing is the last thing to go while you are in a near death state. Your body goes into auto-pilot as your breathing becomes laboured it is over taken by the bodies need to survive. I imagine that you are not conscious of this and as your eyes shut down and your brain goes into overdrive; like a Captain on a sinking ship, the things you hear are guiding you through a lucid state of imagination.

And suddenly there’s a tin bucket lying in a grassy field somewhere next to large Oaks and Willows, tree’s as old as your ancestors. The wind is gentle on your face. The sounds that were guiding your final moments blend into a sound of rustling leaves, a papery shimmer. All the leaves tremble, the bows creak just slightly. All around you is grass manicured to country club standards, beyond is the brightness of a summers day the blur of the beyond. Insects dance about, Cicadas long mating calls blast off in the treetops like so many Scottish pipe bands. 

It’s easy to get lost in the details.

With a Running start he booted that bucket into the next galaxy and likely he’s done the same.

….That’s actually a memory I have of playing “Kick the Can” with my cousin’s at my grandfathers house many years ago. I had know idea of what “kick the bucket” meant, but I remember hearing that term thrown around. I remember enjoying the sound that a well placed kick would make on that tin can that made it fly. Simply beautiful.

My Grandfathers passing does not come as a surprise. The last time I spoke to him he assured me that he was just an old man waiting to die. He checked himself into the hospice and had some quality time with my father and the rest of his sons before he left. I’m not even all that sad, he was well into his 80’s and lived a full life by any means.

He’s had three wives (I know of at least two.) and he survived them all, He was a history buff and read political spy thrillers, an HO model train builder (constantly building and rebuilding train sets in his apartment), He liked English football and Indy racing (I would sometimes go over to his house to watch the races live on Sundays). He was a proper English gentleman, ate lamb at dinners with a glass of scotch. Was a Navigator in WWII for his Majesty’s RAF on a Halifax MKII bomber. He flew three missions and was shot down over Berlin*. Ronald Fathered five children all of which are some of my favorite people. Sadly, even with all that I do know there was much more that i don’t know.

Loss is never easy, but I’m happy with the fact that he got to go on his terms. Nothing was lost because this is how he wanted it. It’s something that we all want.

…at first i wasn’t sure what to write, all i could think of was the Microphones song ” I  Can’t Believe You Actually Died”. 

“And I hope that you’re happy there, even though I don’t know where”

                                           - The Microphones

*

Interesting story about that. The only war story he’s told me was about being shot down over Germany.  The navigators station on a Halifax MKII is underneath the cockpit. During the Air strike Ron’s plane was hit with antiaircraft rounds killing the pilot, who fell on top of Ron pinning him down. Something in the plane exploded, which caused Ron to loose consciousness and threw him from the plane. He awoke seconds later holding onto his parachute mid free fall. Instinctively he pulled his rip cord, but like some bugs bunny cartoon the cord ripped from his pouch and nothing happened. Thinking that it was all over he looked down and noticed that he still had another rip cord; he had pulled his secondary chute cord. His primary chute opened and he floated down to earth shaken not stirred.

True or not, an incredible story.

Thanks for reading.

There’s a Tattoo parlour in my living room. My roommate is being tattooed by a mutual friend from Vancouver. I Met the artist at Burning Man. We worked on the Temple together. All this tattoo buzz, filling the house with the sound. It’s an exciting thing.

Thinking what I would like to get done. Maybe add some more to what I already have. I would like a Flying Snowball done. Also a Compass some where. Nautical tattoo’s are way too cool.

I had it all wrong. I thought it was going to go like this: 

1. Acquire drum kit

2. Find musicians

3. Profit. 

Oh but it’s just not that simple. 

So I’m going through a Meme’s comments when i read these truly inspirational words. I give you those words,

“