You Can't Fit Denali Into Your Hand

Serendipity

Last spring, after I'd returned from Alaska filming things for my Iditarod doc MUSH, I was pouring over all the footage trying to figure out how to put everything together.

I knew what I wanted, but I wasn't sure it would all come together.

So I went to see Brandon Schott who was playing in Hollywood to celebrate the release of his "God Only Knows" single. There were a bunch of other people who got up and performed, including Matt Hopper.

Hopper's music is almost a lot of things without ever quite fitting neatly into any one hole. It's almost indie rock and almost Americana. It's definitely almost folk, but it's also definitely not folk.

We talked afterwards and I learned he was originally from Alaska and I told him about the Iditarod project and he told me he had a new album coming out with a song on it called "Denali" that might be perfect for my movie.

And it was.

So here it is:

Serendipity.

Mooseward Bound

Again, I'm wondering if a flight can really be considered non-smoking if the airline chooses to have it depart at 4:20.

If that's too much to ponder, here's a little travelin' music from Marian Call Alaskan:

Some are Mathematicians, Some Are Carpenters' Wives

And some order 178 pizzas in the middle of the night...

My hometown is in the news.

And not in a good way.



Bob Dylan performed this weekend at UMASS Amherst and, hours later, someone wearing a backstage pass walked into a pizza parlor in the center of town and ordered 178 pizzas for Dylan and his crew.

At 1:30 in the morning.

The staff of the pizza place (perhaps eager for the reflected glory from a music legend whose best days are decades in the past) agreed to stay late and make the pizzas.

The man with the backstage pass promised to return and said he would leave a huge tip on top of the $3900 for the pizzas.

This raises a lot of questions.

Such as: when did my hometown decide that a pizza should cost $22?

And why would anyone think that Bob Dylan would have a crew large enough (or hungry enough) to eat 178 pizzas in the middle of the night (or first thing in the morning)?

Do they think that Dylan has an entourage that numbers in the hundreds? (If everyone were to have 3 slices, that would mean nearly 500 people. Even if everyone ate half a pie, that's still 356 people. And if the average is only 2 slices, that's more than 700 people. Doesn't anyone do simple math anymore?)

And more importantly, why would anyone start a job like that without getting at least partial payment in advance?

As a friend of mine used to say, that's the problem with college towns -- everyone's really book-smart and totally lacking in common sense.

"It may be pepperoni, or it may be extra cheese, but you're gonna have to serve somebody..."

It's All Right...

George Harrison died 9 years ago

RIP doesn't seem right for George Harrison.

But any use of the word "Transmogrify" would seem pretentious...

So here he is with Pete Ham from Badfinger at the Concert for Bangladesh:

Who Knew?

Season of Surprises

You live long enough you discover that real life is much stranger than you ever thought.

For example, who knew that Billy Joel does such a good Springsteen impression?


Bruce's impression of Billy Joel, however, is not so great -- but you gotta give him props for trying.

The Orange Wallet

Better Hurry Cause It's Going Fast...

We were gathered, waiting.

It was the day, it was the time. The flyers in the paper told us where to go. The news reporters waited in the dark.

And then the crowd rushed forward. To the TVs, the laptops, the very limited selection of the very latest gadgets.

And he was first.

But he didn't seem to want to pay. He wanted make conversation.

At 4:32 in the morning.

He was stalling, not wanting the transaction to end.

Behind him in line, hundreds of sleepy shoppers grumbled and cursed him.

And then he reached into his pocket and took out a bright orange wallet.

And he withdrew a handful of cash. And he paid.

And the crowd was strangely quiet, suddenly noticing the man's bright orange hair. And his glowing orange pants.

What kind of crazy man carries a bright orange wallet? And wears glowing orange pants accessorized to his bright orange hair?

Clearly someone who marched to the beat of a drummer no one in their right mind would ever hear.

And he turned towards us, his eyes glowing with the madness of an idea that none of us wanted to know about.

We turned away. All of us.

Because, clearly, that man was insane. That sudden realization washed like a rogue wave over the crowd. The crowd who'd gotten up in the middle of the night for a $250 HD TV or a $300 laptop or one of two Viking Stoves that were being sold for $199.99.

30 Years On...

No One's to Blame, I Know Time Flies So Quickly

Yeah, there's some whitewashing by certain people who've built second careers around milking the myth of their friendships with John & Yoko.

And yeah, he was probably a bit of an asshole more than some of the time.

And yeah, some of the music seems quaint and naive these days.

But there's something about John Lennon that is still larger than life.

Even 30 years on.

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