The Mustache Wax
Neat news. I’m zooming westward in August. Some good time has passed since I’ve done the long trans-Canada thing — two summers I think. I had the fortune of shooting out to several festivals during the warm season last year, but a full road tour is a different beast entirely. With only one month until I leave, I find myself paralyzed at times by anticipation or anxiety or both. The excitement and nostalgia of tours past are tempered by the sense that there are nearly an infinite number of small details needing my attention before I go. A music tour is an impossible structure; once the foundation is laid and shows are booked, there is never adequate time to properly promote, plan and prepare, but inevitably the thing happens and is beautiful.
I love touring. This one is extra exciting because I’ll be meeting my brother in Vancouver. We will then wind our way, together, back across the nation to our Ontario homeland. Pete is a neat guy. If you don’t already know the story, he grew up (as I did) in small-town Ontario. He retired young from software engineering then found himself in a precarious position after building and selling a couple of luxury homes in Colorado right around the real-estate crash of ‘08. Disillusioned with the employment and entrepreneurial grind, Pete and family decided to simply live responsibly and industriously off of savings for the rest of their days, prioritizing wholesome life-building experiences over superficial, material luxury. In a moment of inspiration or boredom or both he began blogging about his worldview and the infamous Mr. Money Mustache was born. Now, somewhat by accident and rather paradoxically, Pete is an absurdly successful lifestyle blogger.
I can remember building a tree fort with Pete and the neighbourhood gang when we were kids. I was a bit younger than the others, so I didn’t actually lift a hammer. I was just the passive beneficiary of my brother’s daring, resourcefulness and project management skills. Nevertheless I enjoyed feeling part of the group. Some good friends of ours — the Evers boys — lived about two blocks away from a massive new subdivision that was under development. At nights, the workers regularly left piles of lumber unsupervised and unfastened. We would sneak in, help ourselves to the two-by-fours and plywood sheets and wheel them back to the Evers’ yard. We reasoned that because the wood was so easy to take, it was surely meant for our taking. As the summer weeks went by and our empire grew, we garnered attention from other neighbourhood kids, envious at what we were building. Naturally we excluded them from our club, citing ideological differences. Some mornings we would return to find our stash of wood mysteriously reduced, or an essential support beam missing. We noticed that the long-neglected fort in the neighbouring McWilliam’s yard had been upgraded with various pieces of newly-spraypainted wood, haphazardly attached. Once confronted, the McWilliams crew began hurling insults. So we countered with rotten pears from the Evers’ yard. Then chestnuts. Then rocks. The thing ended with a profusely bleeding forehead and various furious parents. They made us tear down the treefort and return the nailed, weather-worn boards to those surly but largely indifferent contractors.
Soon, too soon, Wax Mannequin and Mr. Money Mustache will be teaming up to build stuff once again — The Mustache Wax Tour. We will be tracing a warm line across this country to bring a haphazardly concocted riot of blood, brains and frugal partydom to your very doorstep. It’s a fated meeting of creative debauchery and fiscal responsibility — debauchability, responsibauchery… or something. Join us for a drink, and then various more drinks, at a venue near you as we revive our sibling rivalries and build a stolen-wood tree fort in your heart. Join us. Put aside all doubt and debt and join us… get mired in the The Mustache Wax.