by Travis Mateer
While preparing material for a podcast appearance, I ran across this interview with David Lynch by former Indy journalist, Skylar Browning. Here is an interesting excerpt relating to Missoula:
Indy: How long did you actually live in Missoula?
Lynch: Two months.
Indy: That’s it?
Lynch: I was born there, and right after I was born my parents moved to Sand Point, Idaho. I lived in the Northwest until I was 14, but always in different cities.
Indy: During those years did you ever make your way back through Missoula?
Lynch: No. My relatives in Montana were in Hungry Horse, Montana; my aunt and uncle lived there. My parents have a log cabin up near Kalispell—what’s the name of the ski resort? Whitefish? My Dad was raised near Highwood, Montana, on a wheat ranch, and my grandfather was a state senator in Montana. They retired from the ranch and lived in Hamilton for a while. I’ve been to Montana a lot, but never really back to Missoula.
Indy: So, when you came back, you were mostly heading back to the Kalispell area?
Lynch: Exactly. It’s beautiful up there.
Indy: Do you have any memories of Missoula at all?
Lynch: Um, no. Not really. But I’ve heard people say it’s a great town and I should go visit it because it’s got a real mood. And I want to go find the hospital I was born in and see if it brings back memories. I remember it was two miles from Hell’s Canyon…St. Patrick Hospital. That’s it. I’d like to get back there.
Using David Lynch’s connection to Missoula is just one way I’ve tried luring Christopher Knowles into a podcast interview.
Today I’m upping my game with a song, which I’ll eventually turn into a video I’d like to call Baphomet Big Bird. If that doesn’t make any sense, allow me to further confuse you with the song. I hope my Twitter fans enjoy this one!
a song by William Skink
TIF aware don't dare sniff you'll take the township off a cliff where the drift boats always miss danger rocks for A-list tips debt an ocean where not a drop sees its role as flooding mop smearing off the dirty hordes from a Rockefeller floor Ivy Getty, eleven six Pelosi stands, official hiss lovely shards, teflon scales with pepperoni on emails I forgot, you like it dumb from any hint you'll quickly run the beam is pink and also numb when wieners hide inside the buns triggered always--woke and rich rocket tweets and Pharma's bitch like the chick on coffee cup star your bucks, then cut your nuts do it for the dude in dress Mithras, man, you'd never guess unless a Chris decodes the tongue of Sibyl songs and secret suns