One month passed by like a summer breeze. I have only the typical “business” of life to blame for it. Waves of progression/digression come and go like the days of the week. Inundated with eggplants and irrigation ditches I have found a sense of peace in the garden this year. Every morning I find myself with hands in the dirt, pawing my fingertips into the organisms of those to come and those that rest.  It has been a bit harder to make sure all “DUCKS” are in their proper rows this year in regards to the garden. There have been many things that require attention apart from growing food. One of which lies soundly next to me as I type this phrase.  It seems as if every day passes quicker than the next. By the time the feedings and the groomings, the cleaning and the scrubbing, the singing/typing/this(ing) and that(ing) is all over the moon has already begun to shown her face and its time for bed. But the morning DOES come and it DOES lift my spirit once again. I have decided, for the first time since we began gardening, to give a proper irrigation system a fair chance. I researched until exhaustion the proper way to irrigate our little farm without spending too much money and using too many resources. I decided on a “drip tape” irrigation system. It was somewhat easy to assemble and utilize. It only really requires drip tape, their proper adaptors to connect to poly tubing and a long piece of 1/2” poly tubing. I ran the poly tubing down the long way of our garden and stretched drip tape down each row of crop. It has only been two days but I am ecstatic about how it is working. I suppose time will be the judge if it was worth the amount of energy and money to set up such a system. SUERTE!

Garlic Geeks

Seed Settin’. Hands o’ Danger.

DRIP Irrigation. Part One.

DRIP Irrigation. Part Two.

The garden has caused us to be very BUSY, BUT……I like being busy. I can’t stand idleness and nothing to do, and so it’s perfect soil for thriving and getting on with the next. Through the business of living and the preoccupation of “ALL” of the things that I “HAVE” to get done I have found some time to get away from the MTN and indulge in other activities that don’t have to do with milking/gardening or tending to things that require me to exist.

A couple weeks back I found myself driving up American Fork Canyon in a recent vehicle that my lady and I made. It’s a 1989 Ford F-150. It was time to get to the hills, away from the city. I had lured Dottie (our Nubian Goat) into the back of the pickup, grabbed by bag of rope, harnesses, shoes and carrots and headed in. I hadn’t been climbing outdoors all year and it was NECESSARY that removed myself from the busyness of mundane. I sang to a George Jones tape all the way up to a place called Beer Can Alley, it’s a newer (Though not ALL that new) area to climb in and was JUST what I needed. I met a buddy of mine up there and it was a full morning of “BELLIES FULL’o FEAR” as I like to put it. As we descended back down the canyon I was happy to know that such a place existed, and that existed in my proverbial backyard. It is GOOD to feel alive. To be alive/breathe.

Ford F-150. Goat In The Back. George Jones on the RADIO. American Fork Canyon. PERFECT.

Dottie.

American Fork ROCK Climbing.

Buckley and I. Canyon Cookin.

The day following the ascent up the mountain of American Fork I ventured into the land of the dead. Things that once were alive, but no longer did. THE KITCHEN. There was a celebration at a familiar place and cookies were in order. I was determined to find the best Oatmeal Raisin Cookie recipe that I could find. And though they were wonderfully EPIC, they might NOT be the greatest of the greats. BUT, give em a whirl. SHA LA LA.

XOOKIES

 VEGAN Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

Prep Time: 10 minutes

Total Time: 10 minutes

Ingredients:

• 3/4 cup margarine (make sure it’s vegan margarine!)
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 cup packed brown sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 1/2 cup soy milk
• 1 cup flour
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp cloves
• 1/2 tsp nutmeg
• 1 cup chopped walnuts (optional)
• 1 cup raisins
• 3 cups rolled or quick cooking oatmeal
•  

Preparation:

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Beat together the sugar, brown sugar, vegan margarine and vanilla until smooth and fluffy. Add the soy milk and mix until combined.

Add the flour, baking soda, salt and spices, and stir until well mixed. Add the remaining ingredients. Batter will be very thick.

Drop by 3 inch balls onto cookie sheet and flatten slightly. Bake 12-15 minutes, or until done. Cookies will still be slightly soft and chewy. Yum! Enjoy your vegan oatmeal raisin cookies!

The wildness of life never ceases to amaze me. It shouldn’t. It couldn’t. Be alive or DIE!

Joshua Fred (Shaky Hands Inc.)

“Beware! is an all too quickly over taste of front porch Americana-folk at it’s most beautiful. I swiftly got past the relatively easy listening of the EP to the lyrical and melodic crux and became immersed in some other worldly conspiracy plot. By the end of “Tie One” (Track 4) I just wanted to go and play it again in a dark room with a bottle of something ill-advised…” – 4.5 stars – Andy Ward – Born Music (UK)

The EP is available through all the digital outlets – iTunes and the like.  For those in the United States who would prefer to venture out to your local indie record store, please make the journey.  Here is a list of stores where the EP is available:

ARIZONA
Zia Enterprises – Phoenix, AZ
ALABAMA
Oz Music – Tuscaloosa, AL
CALIFORNIA
Fingerprints – Long Beach, CA
Amoeba Music – Hollywood, CA
Lou’s Records – Encinitas, CA
Salzer’s Records – Ventura, CA
Dimple Records – Sacramento, CA
COLORADO
Twist & Shout – Denver, CO
FLORIDA
Park Ave CD’s – Orlando, FL
GEORGIA
Criminal Records – Atlanta, GA
IDAHO
Record Exchange – Boise, ID
INDIANA
Indy CD and Vinyl – Indianapolis, IN
MARYLAND
Sound Garden – Baltimore, MD
NEBRASKA
Homer’s – Omaha, NE
NEW YORK
Looney Tunes – West Babylon, NY
OREGON
Music Millennium – Portland, OR
TENNESSEE
Grimey’s – Nashville, TN
Disc Exchange – Knoxville, TN
TEXAS
Waterloo – Austin, TX
Disc Go Round – Corpus Christi, TX
UTAH
Graywhale – Taylorsville, UT
VERMONT
Pure Pop Records – Burlington, VT
WASHINGTON
Silver Platters – Seattle, WA
Easy Street Records – Seattle, WA
Sonic Boom Records – Seattle, WA
WISCONSIN
Exclusive Appleton – Appleton, WI

(as a side note, our neighbors are wonderful, kind and very respectful people. I believe it probably had to have been a startling fact, to stumble upon two hives of honeybees behind their fence. And so, as a disclaimer, it SHALL BE KNOWN).

Well…it all went quickly down from there. The bees, for some reason, began getting very aggressive, there seemed to be chaos/confusion/destruction and I had not been tending to them as frequently as I should’ve been. Weeks came and went. It was in August that the blackness of our beloved beehives began. I opened up one hive only to see that there were NO BEES inside. Every last one of the living bees had left the hive. There were half constructed honeycomb and dead bee bodies on the base floor, but nothing moving. I was crushed. I knew that I had to open up the other hive but was nervous to. What might’ve happened? Why did they leave? Was it the moving of the hives? Had there been pesticide sprayed nearby? I slowly opened up the second hive. DEATH. DEATH. DEATH. All over. Bees half hidden inside honeycomb, DEAD. Bees all over the baseboard and inside the hive, DEAD. Just like the previous hive, there was nothing living inside. I couldn’t believe this was happening. What had I done wrong? Where were the happy buzzing bees that I remember from the previous visits? They were nowhere to be seen. It was a hard season here on the MTN for beekeeping. Too much death. Sadness and Despair. I was determined that the following year I would set the hives up in the safest of locations, away from unwanting neighbors and possible pesticide sprayings.

So, when I returned home from this last tour I had already ordered two boxes of honeybees (Italians) while out on the road. Three days after Ollie arrived we were contacted by the Intermountain Farmers Association, which is where we purchased our bees. They were here. The two boxes of beautiful buzzing bees had arrived at the store and we were scheduled to pick them up Saturday morning. And so the following day we headed in and grabbed the two boxes of bees. I had, the previous afternoon, prepared their future homes just behind our chicken coop where they would be properly cared for and looked after. When we got back to the MTN with the two boxes I was excited and nervous to put them in the hives. The first (and only) time that I had ever installed bees into a hive I was wearing full bee protection, but in the book that I had been reading since my arrival home (The Beekeepers Handbook) said that when you receive your bees they are in their most docile state due to the fact that they have no hive or home to defend. No honey reserves to hold onto. And so for this go around I had decided to do it sans bee suit. My lady thought I was crazy but said that she would document it with our iflip and snap some FOTOS during the installation (For posterities sake).

A Beekeepers Dream of Heaven

The installation was quick and required very little skill. I sprayed the boxes down with sugar water to keep the bees happy and fat on sugar.  I then opened the boxes and removed the queen.

Boxes

The Queen of the Night

Then I poured the bees right over the hive and capped the queen box with a sugar cube, which allows the honeybees to eat away the sugar to release their beloved queen. The whole process was beautiful and really got me excited to spend more time with those lovely ladies this year and the years to follow.

Now, I suppose I should say SOMETHING about this extended play (EP) disc that we have coming out May 7^th. I AM excited about it (maybe not as excited about is as I am about these RADICAL bees) and am proud of the songs that swift, Evan and I recorded during the “From The Top Of Willamette Mountain” sessions. The four songs found on the newest BEWARE! EP is four songs that we decided to leave off the full length to release all on their own. And ON THEIR OWN they are being released. It is available through all the regular online retailers (Amazon, itunes, etc) but is also available in physical form through my website www.joshuajames.tv and there is a BEWARE! T-shirt that I designed modeled after a construction paper collage I made for the MTN, if you like T-shirt sorta things.

BEWARE!

And so there it goes.

The bees and the BEWARE! The sun and the son.

Here is to the changing weather. Here is to our dying bodies.

Here is to the bees and the babies.

AHOY, AMIGOS.

AHOY.

Joshua-Fred.

Today you can listen to the premiere of Joshua’s new EP Beware! on WNYC’s “Soundcheck” a week ahead of release.  You can stream the 4 song EP in it’s entirety, as well as hear and read an interview with Joshua and host Gretta Cohn discussing life, and the meaning behind the songs on the new release.  HEAR / STREAM it at WNYC now.

The Beware! EP will release this coming May 7th, and is currently available for pre-order through I-Tunes as well as direct through Joshua’s website – http://www.joshuajames.tv.

…Ring, Ring…Ring…

Emma’s name popped up on the screen of my phone, her photo flashed at me, asking me to answer. I hit the silence button and finished dinner with my parents and the rest of the boys in Lincoln, Nebraska. The tour was almost over, we had three days off in Lincoln before our final show in Denver, Colorado before the trek back home. We had been gone for 7 weeks but it felt like 2, and I had anticipated the short break with my parents before heading west to meet back with my lady and unborn child.

…Ring, Ring…Ring…

Emma’s photo, again, flashin on the screen. It was an older photo of her and one of our favorite animals, Jasper, I smiled as I hit the answer button.

“Hello..?”

“ (sniffles)…Hello? Joshua? I am in pain…”

“Are you alright!?” I responded.

“Yes…I just…I need you here. I don’t know when Oliver is going to come, and I need you here to help me. I want you to come home…”

As I mentioned we only had one more show before heading back but it wasn’t for three days. The sound of my lover’s voice was causing a wretched twist on my heart muscle. I asked if she was sure if she wanted me home. After talking for a bit we agreed to speak in the morning if she was still feeling the pain and that I would head home if so.

I returned back to eat and told the table of Emma’s discomfort and concern. After discussing with the rest of the boys we made it official. We were heading home. Denver would have to wait and our lovers would be happy to see us four days early. After dinner we headed downstairs and watched “What About Bob?” I couldn’t focus on Bill Murray’s performance amidst the range of emotions that were taking control of my entirety. My lover would be happy.

The morning arrived and we loaded the van. I kissed my Mother goodbye and we started the trek back to the mountains of Utah. When we hit Wyoming the roads began to get snowy, the snow turned to ice and the speed on the freeway became lethargic. The drive was already a 13-hour drive and nobody wanted to add more time to the trip. After Cheyenne the roads got a bit better. We pulled into the valley around 9pm and all went to their respective homes and ladies. I saw my lover waiting in the garage and the peak of the two-month trek was reached. My tear ducts lost their cool and we wept together, heart to heart, cheek-to-cheek. I had missed her, and her me. The next morning caught my body off guard. I woke up early; naturally, completely unaware of where I had slept the night before. It took my mind a second to figure out that I was in my bed, at home. Every night for the previous 50 nights I had woken up on the floor of a stranger or in the bed of an acquaintance from the road. After I had woken up I took pride in the feeding of the chickens, in the petting of the pups, the whaling of the goats in the morning before their food arrive. I missed the sight of the mountains and the dryness of the air. I was home.

That night my lover and I decided to head to Salt Lake City to see our friends band, Desert Noises. It had only been a day back from the constant singing and music and it was driving me out of my mind. I was still in “tour mode” and needed to fill my soul with Rock n Roll. Emma couldn’t seem to settle into her seat like she wanted to. Oliver had pushed the boundaries of her epidermis and the discomfort was next to impossible to endure. After Desert Noises played we headed back to the MTN. Right when we got back my lover headed to bed. She was exhausted and uncomfortable. I stayed up with Isaac and Timmy, talking about all the wild things we had experienced during our visits along the whimsical/wild world of tour. At 11:22pm I got a call. It was Emma.

“Hello..? Lover, you alright..?”

“Can you come in here, I am in extreme pain.”

I told the boys that the night had come to an end and that my lady needed me. I bid the boys adieu and headed to my bedroom. Emma was having heavy contractions and writhed in pain as I tried my best to help her through them. At 1am the amniotic fluid that had kept our unborn babe safe in the belly of my gal made its way to the bathroom floor. It had begun. My whole life up until this has come to me in photos, flashing in front of my eyes, a storybook, a song. But, when process of my child being brought into the world in which I am a part of, the view changed. I felt as a dog might in flight for the first time. My actions and reactions were colored differently. The surreality of it all kept body functions in sync with what was needed from me. Animalistic and Pure, i felt it all. From 1am to 3pm, the following day, my lover twisted and turned in pains that would eventually lead to the safe arrival of the newest of lives here on the MTN. Nothing obscured her drive and vision for how she wanted the birthing to be. It was the most beautiful thing my eyes have seen. In the MTN, on the day of our scheduled Denver show, he was born, no needles, no doctors, no medicines. With the support of two wonderful midwives and my lovers family, the most BADASS woman I have ever known gave birth to our beautiful baby boy. The king of the MTN. Sir Oliver Fred. There truly is a mystic in the mountains, high above. BE it life, or BE it death. We are amongst TRUE LOVE, my friends. I would be damned if I wasn’t to say that LOVE is ALL we NEED. Thank you all for those that have supported me through the wild adventure of BEING ALIVE. I would not/could not do what it is I love (TO SING) if it were not for your support. Indebted I am to you all. FORGET NOT!

Yours into the grave,

Joshua Fred.

For My Lover

Right about the time we wrapped the recording of music for our third album, it became apparent that there was more than one body of work forming. An EP’s worth of music – 4 songs – were selected to comprise an EP that complemented and continued the story of the recent full length album “From The Top of Willamette Mountain”. All of this music was recorded in the same period with Mr. Richard Swift manning the role as Producer. This “sister” companion to the latest album, “From The Top of Willamette Mountain”, was deemed “Beware!” after the title track of the EP – “Beware!”.

Tune into Carson Daly tonight, April 11th/12th on NBC, to catch me and Evan peforming “Beware!” and “Ghost in the Town” live from the Troubadour in Los Angeles, CA.

The track listing of the Beware! EP is as follows:
1. Beware!
2. Cheyenne, Wyoming
3. We Saw The Light
4. Tie One

 

It’s a long drive from Vienna Virginia to our Easter habitation of Natick, Massachusetts. It had been a favorite show of mine the night before in Vienna. The crowd seemed to rise and fall with the same amount of energy that the boys and I were feeling from ontop the risers. From a soft whisper to a growling howl we carried our songs on our chests and sang through the night until the final song came and it was over. The time read 1:27 AM when we finally were leaving the club. I could feel myself slowly drifting into my bodies “off” position as we drove toward the house that we were to sleep at that night.

“Long drive tomorrow..” I sputtered to the others.

“Aye…” they responded with a tone that spoke volumes of their condition (exhausted).

In the morning it was a quick rise and out the door by 10am. The plan was to make it to the greater Boston area by 5pm, as we made it onto our first freeway the traffic was at a stand still. I was afraid that this could cause us to miss our 5pm mark and settled even further into the captain’s seat behind the driving, bearded, Timmy.

Sitting on the freeway opened up “the road” to a little bit of a different view to those we were sharing the experience with. I looked around and noticed the hundreds of different people in their respective cars/trucks/motorcycles, all racing to their locations, all in what they might or might not deem to be the “perfect vehicle.” The man driving next to us in the Volvo station wagon was dressed to the brim. 3 piece suit, a briefcase a top the passenger side leather seat, a neat, trimmed head of hair and a blue tooth that he seemed to be whispering into as we slowly eeked our way down the freeway. I sat there, looking at the man, wondering….

“Why a Volvo? Why a station wagon? Why the color black?”

Maybe he got a good deal on the car, or maybe it was a status thing. Maybe his parents were convinced that Volvo was the only “REAL” option when choosing a car. I had always been brought up under the “Toyota, Honda” umbrella of car thought. They were the best (in my opinion). But to be totally honest, I knew next to nothing about the cars or their parts, engines, functionality. But for some reason I knew that Toyota and Honda were the cars for me. They were cheap, well made, and lasted forever.  My father was always a Toyota man. And for that reason I am sure that the notion of Toyotas superiority was a family heirloom that I was to carry down, whether consciously or non. The same thought and quick judgment of choice came to me as we passed many other vehicles.

2004 Ford Thunderbird.

1999 Dodge Grand Caravan.

2008 BMW 535.

All cars that I deemed to be “the wrong choice”. I couldn’t see myself ever buying or driving a Volkswagen ANYTHING, but I knew plenty of people that “LOVED THEM”.  I then saw, on the right side of the road, a newer Toyota Camry with the hood popped and two men staring into its insides. As we passed them I told myself that it had to be user error, because Toyotas were “The Best” they didn’t just break down like that. And I think that’s what started to disturb me. Though I knew less than nothing about transmissions, timing belts, spark plugs or ANYTHING (for that matter) on cars and their insides I was a Toyota and Honda man, through and through.  I find that my opinions on hundreds of things fall into this same semi-disgusting category.  My thoughts, opinions and even facts (according to me at least) mostly fell under this umbrella of “wisdom”.

As I grew up my mind was a wandering sponge, picking up the “this’s and that’s” of my surrounding. My best friends dad when I was 11 loved the Raiders and so, in my mind, the Raiders were the best football team to have ever played the game. My sister listened to Bob Marley, and so, I, in turn listened to Bob Marley, thinking that it was one of the greatest compact discs to exist at the time (which in retrospect, it probably was).  The winters in Nebraska were horrifically cold and the weatherman would always tell us of the “windshield factor”. He would announce over the boob tube:

“The high today is 17 degrees, the low is 2 degrees and the WIND SHIELD FACTOR is negative 12 degrees.” At least that is how I heard it.

Now, in my mind this made COMPLETE sense, seeing as how the wind would hit the windshield I had determined, in my mind, that this was the way in which they would determine the wind attributing to the winters air. Now, it wasn’t until I was 26 years old (this is no joke) that I read on a TV, while they were announcing the weather for the day, that the “WIND CHILL” factor was 7 degrees for the day. I sat there, flabbergasted, in awe of the many years of self-beguiling. Could it be? All those years? Windshield factor? HUH? I couldn’t help but sit there and laugh to myself. My Windshield factor was never anything at all but a misunderstanding, a miscommunication from one human to another.

I have recently learned of a man that throughout his (short) life had been told that there is great hippo in the sky who saw everything he did. This great hippo would dictate all the good that would happen in this man’s life and in the life of all that he knows and doesn’t know. The great hippo dances around in the sky and makes sure that things are running according to his mandates down below, where this man lives (planet Bearth). Now, this hippo is very particular on his choice of clothing and of the clothing of those that he watched over (the residents of Bearth) He would only wear yellow shirts and blue pants and would require the same of his residents below. This is something that this man is sure of.  The hippo also only permits the residents of Bearth to go swimming in the great lake (Lake Ghumbo) on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and if you went swimming on any other day you would surely suffer and die.

This man was raised with the greatest of parents who taught him all about the great Hippo and his yellow shirts, blue pants and regulations on swimming in Lake Ghumbo. His whole family including his brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles all were great believers in the Mighty Hippo and would sing his praises when all were joined together for certain special occasions, all equipped with yellow shirts and blue pants. All were happy and all was well with the world of Bearth. One day the man was walking through a forest near the house he was raised in and found a small book that told of a “Great Wind”, this Great Wind was the bearer of all of the trees, mountains, rocks, lakes, animals and people on planet Bearth. The book taught that this Great Wind was a respecter of all and none. It taught that Love was the key to the happiness of the people of Bearth and that without that Love that they would all surely die. The man read on to learn that a dress code of yellow shirts and blue pants was not really necessary at all and that swimming in the great lake of Ghumbo was fine on ANY DAY.

“What NEWS!” the man thought to himself.

The day was Wednesday and he decided to go swimming in the Great Lake Ghumbo. As he dove off of the dock the water ran past his body. He came up for air and to his surprise, he did NOT die. He felt alive and happy. He felt full of love. He then painted his yellow shirt red and sewed bright green and pink patches all over his blue pants, and again, he did not die.

“HOORAY!!!” the man screamed, running toward his home to tell all that were there of this great news. As the man told his sisters, brothers, parents, aunts and uncles of his recent discovery he was scolded and reminded that anything that was taught in contrary to the Great Hippo’s teachings was destructive and deadly.

“NO, NO!” the man replied.

“Surely something that makes me feel this way, this alive, this IN LOVE must be of good merit!”

The family again reminded him that he had lost “HIS WAY” and that there was only one way to make the Great Hippo happy and that was by wearing yellow shirts and blue pants AND by only swimming in the Great Lake Ghumbo on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The man again tried to help them all understand that he had learned of a slightly different way to be happy and that he felt compelled to follow in this path.  Weeks passed on and the mans family slowly stopped confiding in him, and talking to him. He was a follower of the Great Wind and not the Great Hippo. The man was saddened by the distance that these two slightly different ways of life had brought between him and his family. He promised himself that no matter what his children and friends and family believed whether the Great Hippo or the Great Wind or the Great Nothing that he would LOVE them, that he would only let that great feeling of acceptance and understanding fill his soul.

I unfortunately have seen the case of Hippo vs. Wind many times in lives of those around me. Whether it’s Ford vs. Chevy. Toyota vs. Hyundai. Hippo vs. Wind. It’s all the same, my friends. It’s acceptance of different opinion. The cycle of hate/malice/darkness has to stop. The world is cold enough without the “Windshield” factor.  As “hippie” as it might sound LOVE is what is truth. Acceptance of difference is OK. To think differently is OK. Find your “Great Wind”. Know that you are the ONLY one to be able to cause the happiness that will surround you.

“Adversity is the first path to truth” – Lord Byron

Truly we are all in this together.

-Joshua Fred James

After the Birmingham show we had high hopes of finding a place with a kind individual at the show. But, to no avail. Maybe we weren’t bold enough, maybe it was the dissheveled appearance of the boys and I. Maybe it was none of the above. Either way, there was no floor to sleep on, no couch to surf, no air mattress to support our tired frames. The weather in Birmingham was brisk at best and the weather seemed that it could turn at any point and give us a downfall of rain. We decided that we would head toward Atlanta and see how far we could make it. The time upon departure was 12:37pm. I was taking the wheel and dosed myself with a 20 oz. highly caffeinated coffee. I had driven a little over an hour when i could feel the covers of my eyes asking for a relief. I mentioned to the boys that we should look for a place to sleep before my body shut itself down and steered our ship into the revene. Evan searched for some parks off of the freeway but nothing had a covering under which we could take shelter. After driving around this very small town in between Bham and ATL we found a small daycare that had an awning that appeared to be sound and safe. It was off one of the main streets but there was a brick wall that might shield us from any onlookers that might pass us by during our visit to the God of Sleep. As we parked the van behind the daycare Tim expressed some concern of sleeping outside. The weather was windy and it seemed that a storm was on the brink of breaking. There was only enough room in the van for one to sleep and so it was given to Timmy. Ike, Evan and I grabbed our sleeping bags and pillows and set up our sleeping stations underneath the awning at the daycare. No more than 12 minutes after our setting up the winds started to howl a bit heavier and the thunder in the distance seemed to be approaching like a slightly disabled coyote in the desert hunting her last meal of the season. 30 minutes into our arrival and the storm fell upon us. The hounds of HELL had found there entertainment tonight and we were on the plate. The rain came. The wind. The screaming thunder, the constant lightning. And under the awning we stayed. We held fast to our small shelter and weathered the storm. The lighting, the rain, the thunder didn’t let up for hours. It was one of the most wicked storms I had ever encountered. And that night, underneath that awning with my best friends i smiled. I felt alive, free and happy. This was it. I was here, breathing, taking in the wonderful experience as the mortal creature that i am. How incredible it is to be alive and to be free.
The next morning we packed ourselves up and went to the van. Timmy looked up from his sleeping spot in the van to ask..
“Are you guys ok.?”
“I can’t believe that you guys slept in that storm!”
IT was a wicked night. A wild night. And we had weathered it. We took it on. The darkness of the night was a light in our SOULS.  It was incredible.

Cheaha Forest, Alabama. Timmy & Evan.

 We started toward Atlanta early that morning. I was behind the wheel. There were signs about 30 minutes into the drive for the Talladega Forest. Exit 199 said “Cheaha Forest”.
I yanked the wheel to the right and decided that today we would live in the forest, even if only for a spell. It was 12 miles in before we found the trail head. As we pulled into the parking lot i knew that THIS was what we would need to refill our need for the GREAT OUTDOORS. We started on the trail and it was magnificent. As the boys were walking behind i would jog ahead to be by myself. I didn’t want to hear anything. No music. No talking. No people. Nothing. It was the greatest of escapes. There i was, in the Cheaha Forest, walking amongst the mighty trees and shrubs of the earth. I felt alive. More so than i had in weeks. I howled into the woods. I communed with the mystic of the world. I laughed to myself in the nothingness and everythingness of my small and massive existence.

HERE I AM !!!
HERE I AM !!!
HERE I WILL BE.

Forever.
Until Death.

Joshua-Fred.

The travels have been incredible thus far and we have met so many incredible people thus far. There have been too many stories to talk of them all. BUT…in Ventura, California we were asked by a very very kind woman with a colorful hat if we needed a place to sleep for the evening. And it just so happened that indeed, we did. We headed to Lucy’s house around midnight and upon arriving we apologized for our late arrival. She told us not to worry, for she was a “moon child” and the nighttime was her TIME. And so she led us back through an alley that led to her front door. We entered into a different dimension upon setting foot inside. The walls, the floor, the decorations were screaming of the intensity of life. Animal portraits, bright colors, strobe lights and in the middle of the living room, on the ceiling was a massive circle that appeared to have been painted on with sparkle paint. All the boys had taken notice of the circle and Lucy quickly mentioned that it was a Port Hole. I am not sure if that was a Portal or a “Port Hole”. She said it was a way to travel to the greatest of places in life, and that, to me, made sense. We quickly retired our tired bodies and were off in the morning. 
Every morning, every evening lends itself to a unique position. I have troubles “letting go” and taking the moment as it arrives at my feet sometimes. But this tour/this time i will. I have no other options.
San Diego sunshine in my face and I am a happy critter.
Nothing left to say.
Whole Heartedly indebted in the existence of “it all”.
the critter of asphalt
joshua fred.

I went to bed.
The morning came and I rolled out of bed with my mind in a million places. 
Emma was off for work.
Few tears were shed and the inevitable “BYE” was spoken.
A kiss before I go?
Tim showed up and we started loading the van. 
Isaac showed up and we got settled into the only tour vehicle i have ever known which now has pushed past the 200,000 mile mark.
We headed to SLC to pick up Evan. 
Upon arriving in realized i had left my amp back in American Fork. This was a terrible realization and we had to venture back in the same direction from which we came to gather the singing electrical box. 
OK!
We’re off. It was toward Seattle that we were heading. 
We were only 3 hours in when we made the decision to stop in Boise for the night, seeing as how we didn’t really  need to be in Seattle until the following night. Tim knew of an old acquaintance that he had made when he was on tour the previous year. He called him [Nate] up and without any type of reservation he invited us to his home. We stopped at the grocer to pick up supplies for black bean and tomato burritos, so to not take more than we were giving. 
We arrived at Nate and Danny’s home at 7pm. We introduced ourselves and then it was to the cooking of the meal. 
The conversation came easy. The words flowed out from all mouths in regards to the hardships of life, tour, love, god, death and the great wonder which is the life that we all have breathing in and out of our lungs.
OH LORD, the wonder of the world. The FEAR of the death that awaits us. The sinister of night. ALL embracing us. ALL surrounding us. HOW beautiful. HOW wicked. HOW absurd.
We are off to Seattle today. 
Find Us.