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Glaciers are frozen rivers, apparently. I didn’t know that until I was rowing a canoe up to one named “Davidson” last week, and our tour guide, a peppy thirty-something semi-leatherwoman who can do something about it now-if-she-hurries, named S-, told us. When I got home, where Internet access does not cost $1.25 a minute, I went to Wikipedia to confirm this. [image source]

And it’s true: glaciers are moving, as if they’re alive, and can more or less be summarized as “frozen lakes” for the geologically disinclined. S- deserved a tip for her excellent work on that excursion, and I had one all ready to give her $20 when we got off the pontoon boat back at the cruise ship, but no one else was doing it, so I didn’t either. S- really got screwed; I should look into sending her something, perhaps some sunscreen or an exfoliating moisturizer.

## Gouge Away

The night before flying to Seattle, WA, to get on a cruise ship for a week to materially participate in my honeymoon with new bride Kelley, I stayed up late watching a Pixies live performance from 1988 that I had asked her to NetFlix. Unfortunately, this video’s documentary portion (”Gouge”) was not the Pixies-related documentary I had read about / was looking for (that would be loudQUIETloud, which I still have not seen; trailer). But that was OK; the gig captured the band at prime-plus-one, not the robotic dope-show of Trompe Le Monde-era (from what I’ve seen on YouTube; I was eighteen at the time, but far too uncool to listen to Pixies or go to live shows) or the moderate-to-terminal bloating suffered by 3/4 of the band later on.

So what I’m saying is this Gouge documentary, which I stayed up until like 4AM watching (at which point I just stayed up two more hours until it was time to go to the airport; some habits die hard) was generally forgettable, but there are some brilliant behind-the-scenes handicam moments to be found elsewhere on the DVD, such as drummer David Lovering bragging over the acquisition of a 12 year old chick/fan’s address (punk rock! pedophilia!), Kim Deal hitting on some seventeen year old fan-or-maybe-roadie (I’m noticing a trend) and (my favorite) Charles Thompson III ne Black Frances sitting in a room, higher than hell, writing up setlists for the show, all while unironically headbanging to Danzig’s “Twist of Cain”. Although I believe Glenn Danzig is a Tier 1 buffoon, there is nothing ironic about his devil-rock (especially the first two Danzig albums; he lost me at blooddemonsweat/”can’tspeak” and all), and any true rocker can, and should, rock out to Danzig. Preferably while working out a lot, or doing a headstand in a pile of cocaine. Frank Black does, and it’s really entertaining. I ripped that scene in QuickTime and watched it again and again, attempting to unlock the secret. Is Black high on something[0], and if so, what? Nitrous? Cocaine? A speedball? A bale of pot? The R.A.G.E. virus? I failed to get to the bottom of it, and sort of feel like a quitter in consequence.

This topic, seminal alternative rock band [the] Pixies[1], does not have to do with Alaska or honeymoons directly, but the motions and social interactions of glaciers is a topic worthy of a Black Francis-penned lyric. I just bring it up because this was all something that happened recently, and it felt good to fondly remember the Pixies. They punched out at the right time, having changed the face of (essentially created? can I go that far?) alternative rock and influenced pretty much every alternative band on both sides of the pond for the next 14 years-and-counting, but before they really started to suck. I believe the Pixies didn’t have a single bad record, but a purist surely believes that Bossanova is no Come On, Pilgrim, and they’re probably right. I could be an ass and say the 2004-2005-2006-and-stillgoing Pixies reunion/arena-rock tour/sellout roadshow is lame, but the band really defined “seminal”: they were awesome, but way too far ahead of their time to make any more money. It’s only right that they survived, got fat (Jesus, did they), and then went back to get paid. All the right approach. [image source]

I won’t fawn over the band, though; the music was great, but all their videos were laughably bad. It’s not like they were operating in the proto-MTV era; ten years in, the art of videos had been sharply honed, as evidenced by Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer”. Rush has the same problem with bad videos. Ultimately, fawning is pointless: everyone knows they’re great, are still great, and there was never really any doubt.

And one last thing: according to something I read in Spin, guitarist Joey Santiago agreed to name the band Pixies without knowing what the word meant, but just because the word had an “x” in it and looked cool. When he found out later it was ‘a supernatural being in folklore and children’s stories, typically portrayed as a small homunculus, with pointed ears and a pointed had and featuring a mischievous demeanor’, he was allegedly disappointed, but I don’t see why. [image source]

Create something entirely new that influences a generation, punch out before you suck, and keep making music that is critically, if not necessarily commercially, successful. Sounds ideal - except the not making money part.

[0] The answer to this question is so clearly “yes”, but it’s not like I’m judging him. [back]

[1] If you’ve not heard [the] Pixies, this is all not very interesting, but the fact should signal you to look into them. Start with Surfer Rosa. If you like live material, Death to the Pixies is fine. Remember that song “Cannonball” from like 1993? That band, the Breeders, had a former Pixie, Kim Deal, in it, and that song alone undoubtedly sold more albums than the entire Pixies catalog when they were active. Remember that song “Los Angeles” from like 1994? Frank Black wrote that song, and he was the Pixies. You know all this, though; who the hell do I think my audience is? Why am I insulting you this way? [back]

## List of Glaciers Seen in Alaska
1. Mendenhall Glacier - sledded (correctly: mushed) a pack of dogs (really!) on top of it while blasting Soundgarden’s “Rusty Cage” (really!) in the iPod of My Mind, with another windblown outdoorsy weather/leather-woman who was not S-, and actually lived on the glacier for four months a year. This fact alone makes her more of a man than I will ever be.
2. Hubbard Glacier at Disenchantment Bay - saw from our ship, which was dangerously close at the time, affording is a view as if seen through the Hubble space telescope; no relationship between “Hubbard” and “Hubble”; I think I momentarily thought they were both named after the same H-person. Left feeling only slightly disenchanted.
3. Davidson Glacier - paddled up to in a canoe, got within 200 or so yards, turned boat around.
4. That is all.

I’ll cheat and fast-forward a peek to the end: we had a good time on our honeymoon, as we should. If we hadn’t, I’d cower in fear of the dark omen portended, and would certainly be unable to rouse myself from a warm, soft blanket of depression pinning me to my bed. But that’s not the case and everything’s fine, so don’t worry if I do a lot of complaining, because now that I’ve revealed that all’s well that ends well, I can really get down to the task at hand: bashing the things and people that were annoying or foolish or intentionally offensive or patently absurd, without feeling the need to disclaim “… but we had a great time, really!” constantly.

If we had it to do over again, so educated as we are, would we? Irrelevant, because we didn’t know, and such mental canoodling is a font of R.A.G.E. virus. We don’t have anything to do over again, since the past is behind us; we just have the next vacation. Which probably won’t be a cruise… unless it’s free, and the life of someone we love hangs in the balance.

And… we’ll just move forward.

Seriously, though… we had a good time. Now witness…

to be continued…

## Things We Did Not See In / Near Alaska, Part I
1. Jean Grey / The Phoenix / Dark Phoenix rising from the bottom of a glacier and/or glacial lake
2. Neal Stephenson standing on top of a glacier, arms crossed
3. Whales / nar-whales