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it is what it is.

i woke up with the sun staring me down and my arm around a beautiful woman this morning. my hand was still sleeping underneath bicep when i came to.

my head was running at top speed and my responsibilities were wearing straight jackets. but, i managed to slip out of the cocoon we had built around ourselves over the night and quietly got my belongings in order with out waking her.

it’s an hour later and I’m getting ready to play a show in Fargo, North Dakota. “what the hell is fargo north dakota?” you ask. Well, it’s basically miami with out all the miami and all the corn fields and flag waving you could ask for. go U.S.A.!

I’m bringing my friends FOOD HEAD ONE and DOWNSTAIRS DAVE along to keep me from losing my sanity in the fair city of fargo. FOOD will most likely back me up on stage and scream things like “this is cecil fucking otter mother fucker!… make some noise!” which is a far cry from the last time he joined me on stage and asked a room full of people if they’ve ever got drunk and fucked in a corn field… one person out of 200 had… he was also in his late thirties, drunk as hell and wearing a fair amount of nascar attire. FOOD promised me that he would be on his best behavior tonight…i trust him.

I’m sitting here at muddy waters(the coffee shop i work at)making a set for the show tonight. i basically rearrange an itunes playlist until i feel it’s got the horse power that the people of fargo deserve to hear me rev up for a half hour…i think i got it.

my horoscope told me i was fat and the third cup of coffee is burning a hole in my stomach… it’s time to hit the road.

so, get ready fargo! this fat man is gonna rev his emotional engine for you at eleven o’clock! viva small town america!

-cecil otter

Aug 30


…The worry has been hanging around me all morning, which in my world is quite a big bother considering It’s always talking out of turn, invading my personal space and stuffing enormous slices of humble pie down my throat with out relent. I’m not sure why I invited the worry over in the first place, it’s seldom it ever needs to be around to put me in a nervous panic.

It was twelve a.m. when the worry rolled in to say “hello! OMG! Is everything O.K.?” “Did you forget anything important?” and three pm when I finally pulled the whole “hey worry, does this rag smell like chloroform to you?” the worry went out like a light and I went about daily routine.

Now I’m at a rival coffee shop drinking some cold press with my headphones on listening to the beats for my new album “porcelain revolver” when something hits me like a Chevy half ton…I got the day off, a couple of bucks and a will to write for hours on end…I aint talking blog’s, I’m talking some good old fashioned and new fangled folk-hop/flamenco funk rock-talking to the winds of change type bangers!
But before I jump into writing songs I’d like to share one story from yesterday that has been on my mind.

I was planning on taking a few friends to my parents cabin on the lake where my great grandfather had built a cabin/shack somewheres around 1920 I’m guessing. My mother and father bought it from my grandfather a few years back and invested a good chunk of cash into it’s remodeling, Which is why (when I asked if I could bring some friends there for the night) they were a little concerned about what I might do to the place when I’m up there, which is understandable considering my track record that needs no mention as of yet. They eventually give me the thumbs down on the cabin.
My friends and I were a little bummed, but were completely understanding of the out come. We decide to drive out to st. Paul mn and grab a slice of pizza from cossetta instead. Cossetta is an Italian joint that has been around since st Paul was built…or that’s what it feels like when your inside listening to nothing but 30’s 40’s and 50’s music and eating a slice of pizza that tastes timeless.
Were all in good spirits cracking jokes and talking like mob bosses when we near the end of our meal. I remembered someone earlier in the week telling me to check out the antique shop across the street from cossetta. She promised me I wouldn’t be disappointed. I ask the group if they were down and everyone agrees to go and browse through old junk and memorabilia with me.
While walking over there I over hear a drunk guy spilling his complaints out to friend out side the bar on the corner. It went something like this “hey man…you know…that bitch of a wife couldn’t find her way out of a plastic wet bag…or wet plastic bag!”…I shit you not it was truly stupidity at it’s finest; I couldn’t make that shit up myself.

So we’re in the antique store now and thirty minutes have passed. I reconnect with my friend kadi upstairs who is holding some great looking black and white photos she had scrounged up from a basket of junk. They’re all anywhere from 1910 to 1925 and of her whole lot she had one photo in particular that struck the both of us. It was a photo out looking a lake. There were two rowboats on each side of the picture almost symmetrical and there was a tree-covered coastline on the left. The first thing I said when I saw it was “yo, would you let me scan that picture? I wanna use that in my album art” and she agreed to spread the nostalgic wealth with me.
A couple minutes later and were are out the doors with our goods, me with two civil war first aid pins, kadi with her pictures, food head with his American pride and Jason with his bear skin rug circa 1945, which looked hilarious considering he has an enormous twisted mustache and full bear in his arms walking around downtown st. Paul while grinning ear to ear. I love my friends.

We roll back into Minneapolis still laughing about this obnoxious bearskin rug the Jason bought for a price that I wouldn’t pay for all the records in the world and decide to get caffeinated and further our day of whimsy.
We get back to the coffee shop and begin slipping back into our routine of finding funny pictures on and feeding each other encouragement when kadi said (while looking at the photo I mentioned earlier) “this photo says, lake Mary Alexandria mn. 1915” I immediately freak out and grab the picture and said “That’s the lake I was going to take everyone to…my grandfathers lake and the fishing spot where my grand father used to take me to”. The picture in the photo was taken off the same dock I cast my first line off. It was serendipitous to say the least. I still got some goose bumps and a few extra springs in my steps. The lake would have been nice to visit, but this trumped it over and over. I’m glad those kind of things happen and glad those kinds of things don’t happen all the time; I wouldn’t wanna waste that kind of overwhelming feeling. It may seem small to you, but it packs pretty heavy punch to me. My yesterdays.
-Cecil “drifting on a dollar” otter

Jun 21


…Half the day is missing and I don’t miss it one bit. I’m under the pressure of a hundred or more faces waiting for me two holler my sorrows at them in great length. It’s mostly paranoia mixed with a tooth ache that could make a sasquatch cry, but They don’t notice the pain I’m in or the fear I’ve forced into my psyche all morning…and that works for me. The stage is covered in stomped on marsh mellows and the remains of a few hundred balloons that the half assed magic act before me left behind to keep me company while I pace the around and bitch in a four-four time signature. The sound is sub-par which in my book is a breath of fresh air. If you haven’t played a show before you might not understand, but I’m sure you’ve been to a million shows and have heard the guy or girl on stage asking the sound guy for more of something in the monitors. The monitors are you best friend on stage, they allow you to hear the music and your voice and there is a fine line between to much of the music and to much of yourself…this sound guy had his shit together…enough. I’m running through the set with out a hitch and the rain (outdoor show) that has been the life of the party all morning and afternoon didn’t take it’s frustrations out me…just a light mist that was probably good for me anyways since I haven’t showered in three days. I smell like a tall biker with over active sweat glands…standing next to me was like French inhaling a Cuban cigar. So I’m nearing my last song of the night and the crowd was smiling big smiles. I love to make people happy…it can take a lot out of you, but it always gives back an even reward in the end and the end was near. A round of applause and a round up of the days previous acts are giving their respect, shake a few hands, thank a few bands and I’m ready to go. I’ve been looking forward to the bbq that my great friends FOOD HEAD a.k.a. Andrew Troldahl and J.P. the master chef we’re whooping up all day…I dismissed a dillenger 4 show just to taste the finished product. I get there just in time to taste the last of FOODS famous halibut dish…he didn’t miss a beat…it was out-fucking-standing! When FOOD cooks…no remains. The night is moving quickly and the liquor soaked cup cakes are barking up the right tree. There are about 12 of us (friends) dancing around a bon fire like a bunch savages, taking photos and sweeping sips off a bottle of something that burns when it touches your lips…and then again in your tummy. We did a photo shoot in front of the fire with our pants round are ankles and our wits are in no way about us. Paper tiger was snapping away at his digital camera and struck photo gold when he took a flick of me and some friends in front of the fire and some flame ball showed up in my hand like someone had photo shopped it in there…I looked like a fucking sorcerer! It’s the little things. Something is telling me that it’s time to leave before shit gets unmentionable. I call for my cab and make the round of goodbyes that are usually caked with sarcasm. I finally make it home to my room that consists of a twin mattress, a 10-inch TV. And a jar of warm pickles…luxury class baby. I put in a DVD (la vi en rose) and slowly shut my head off. Half way through the film and I’m out. I wake up the next morning with a few minutes to spare before I had to start my shift at Muddy’s (coffee shop). I get a text on my phone from a friend that said, “Do you remember what happened last night?” I replied, “I was only there for an hour, but you guy’s were on one for sure”…I get no reply back. I get to the coffee shop and my friend and owner of the fine establishment started asking if I was o.k. I said, “Yeah, I feel like a million bucks…minus a few bad investments”. She begins to get very concerned about the state of my friends foot and the state of two my best friends relationship with one another. Turns out some shit did go down after I left. One is unmentionable and the other is outstanding. My friend nick that was three enormous sheets to the wind thought it would be funny to slam a full on ten-pound sledgehammer directly on to my even drunk friend Posso’s foot…he didn’t break his foot, but he did crack a few people up. Looking back on it, it’s seems kind of stupid, and it is, don’t get me wrong…I guess the only way I could explain the type of mayhem I and most my friends get into is “a mutual lack of shame mixed with booze and a small town out look on what “fun” is equals the kind of stupidity that we fall for just about every time”
So my day of work has ended and I didn’t feel like writing for my new album just yet. I decide to write my first blog ever…I call it my yesterday’s.

-Cecil otter

Jun 08


if you forgot how to laugh you should watch this. forget about it.

Apr 28

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