... " there ain't much call for unpublished poets...
or unheard singers of songs..."...
... well... this couplet comes to me from the far flung days of my early 'hotel' existence... I signed on to the Trans Canada Pipeline the day turned eighteen, and began living in the hotels and motels of southern Ontario, working as a 'rod man' on a survey crew, hanging out with 'pipeliners'' of an evening; the hard drinking, poker playing rough edged characters whose 'romantic' aspects wore thin pretty quickly. I lost one hundred dollars my first game in a flash, and thereafter took my little Gibson guitar to the gatherings, sitting in the corner, observing and taking notes and requests. The St. Lawrence Hotel in Brockville ( long since burned to the ground) was a memorable stop on my travels, the old room I stayed in had tall windows overlooking the majestic river, and a little bar in the basement where I met a curious solo 'entertainer' whose name I can't recall. She was some sort of 'folksinger' I suppose, and may have led me to establish the mistaken idea that one could play folk music on the hard ass country-western bar circuit. This ill advised notion persisted for far too long, and resulted in more than a few firings in the ensuing travels and travails... I packed that scene (the pipeline) in that Christmas break (having started October 05th) ad flew to Calgary to join Cris Cuddy and Abi ('Snake Eye Jake' - now deceased) Nathan in their 'Cowtown' escapades... I bought an old Valiant for twenty-five dollars in a bar one night, and drove it all that winter (with no heat)... scribbling song scraps in little notebooks with cowboy images on the cover, old relics bought inn a funky little shop in Calgary named 'David's Dry Goods', where I outfitted myself in vintage 'pearl snap' western shirts and trousers from a bygone era... ("I see by your outfit, that you are a cowboy...) ... the beginnings of my 'western adventures' that would lead me to ty on just about every aspect of 'cowboy culture' (with thhe exception f the drugstore' variety, though that could be disputed by those of the 'real deal' at the time I'm sure...) eventually I would do 'real' cowboy work, and even train as a 'farrier', when I came to the realization that I might fare better under horses than on top of them, but that, of course; is at least another story... love to all, d.