A conglomeration of things
Message on postcard:
Flink –
It was sunny today in Portland. On my run this morning I saw a bearded twenty-something standing on a corner, facing the sun with outstretched arms and closed eyes. He had an iPhone in one hand, a paper coffee cup in the other, and was chanting something. A garbage truck was rumbling behind him in an asphalt parking lot. Things are pretty much normal here.
Mike
PS: Also I saw a kid ride into school on a unicycle.
Mike: Tamara, where are we?
Tamara: Where are we?
Mike: Yeah.
Tamara: Uh, we’re in Dolores Park in San Francisco.
Mike: What’s it like here?
Tamara: There are less hipsters and people selling pot brownies than usual. I think because of [the nearby music festival] Outsidelands.
Mike: Here comes Flink … that’s a question.
Tamara: That’s a question?
Flink: [Suggesting an interview question] Dear diary, what’s your fucking deal?
Tamara: Did Mike ask you really probing questions? Like “where are we”?
Flink: He asked “is everything okay”, which I answered somewhat peevishly.
Mike: I’m sorry, these are hard to do and the pace of the interview is really slow.
Flink: I doooooon’t knooooooow — No, don’t write that for God’s sake.
Mike: Tamara, we saw a goat and a camera crew earlier. Can you describe some cinematography that you thought was especially moving?
Flink: Man, some of these guys are really good at throwing frisbees.
Tamara: That’s a really bad segue. I watched this short documentary in China [wherein a guy wanted to explode a really big rock for the sake of art and the final explosion shot was really cool. He had to find the right rock and bribe local officials.]
Flink: I can safely say I would watch the fuck out of that.
Tamara: When we walked in, we didn’t realize it was 45 minutes long, and the story leading up to it got kind of boring. But the explosion was good … Now I want to watch this documentary about the goat.
Hello, Portland! It’s about 6:30 pm at the Stumptown Coffee on Division St. in Southeast Portland. The Dolores Park interview is from August 12th. Today I went for a hike in the Mount Hood Wilderness with Tamara; she flew up here from San Francisco for the weekend.
I went to school here in Portland, at Reed College, and lived in Southeast Portland for four years after I graduated. In a lot of ways, Portland still feels like home. The summer after my sophomore year I spent a lot of time in the Mount Hood Widerness, and it was nice to revisit an old trail that I still sort of remembered. We hiked up to Burnt Lake from the south trailhead.
Portland is a nice city. And I’ve tried to settle in my home state of Iowa as an adult, but it’s never quite worked out right for me. So I think I’ll spend some more time traveling this month, then settle here in Portland, again. The trick to living here is not to be bothered by skinny guys with ridiculous mustaches. For years and years I wished Civil War-era facial hair would make a comeback — be careful what you wish for, I guess.
Good morning Carina! Last night was wedding night for Tom and Maria. This morning was clean-up morning, but as the old saying goes: Many hands make light work. All the tables under the big tent were cleared in about twenty minutes. With tablecloths pulled and garbage off the ground.
I took the dogs for a little walk after breakfast. That was when I found this pocketknife in a field. All morning long I’ve been asking people if they know anyone who lost a pocketknife. People keep saying no. I may own a slick new knife!
And now it’s Monday the 27th.
I kept asking around. I couldn’t find the rightful owner. I kept the knife.
I’m house-sitting for Tom. He’s out in Hood River with his new bride.
Weddings are kind of hard for me. For a variety of reasons that aren’t worth getting into here. I spent a fair amount of time after the actual ceremony just wandering around the farm, avoiding people. Then I shook it off and joined the end of the line for dinner, and getting food made me feel better. And I wound up staying awake until two a.m. dancing and socializing.
Socializing is another thing that’s hard for me, for reasons that I can’t get in to here because I don’t know what they are.
Being bad at weddings and being bad at socializing means that I overcame a synergistic life skills hurdle this weekend … I’m totally putting that on my résumé.
I feel fortunate to have good friends. I don’t do well with the typical “oh hello tell me in three minutes about the last six years since I’ve seen you” wedding chatter. I sucked it up and had a few of those conversations, but I also had some good conversations about the heavy things in life. You never really figure life out with these conversations, but for me at least it goes a long way toward making me more comfortable with not having it figured out.
#1. Bow and Arrow. Mr. Bow and Ms. Arrow joined forces to kill. In a rugged land of prehistoric bloodshed and survival it was at first a marriage of convenience. But soon they grew to love each other. Together they slew millions of men and beasts, but always returned home together to keep things spicy. Their offspring include the better known couple Guns and Ammo.
#2. Pencil and Paper. Although Pencil and Paper seem to be worlds apart from that other noteworthy power couple, Bow and Arrow, it was actually Bow and Arrow’s bloody pairing that made Pencil and Paper’s more cerebral coupling possible. Creating a stable society through the use of deadly force allowed for the creation of a noble class of philosopher kings whose important work paved the way for this steamy office romance.
#3. Pie and Ice Cream. The most delicious pairing of the bunch also has the saddest story. When Ice Cream began melting on Pie, these star-crossed lovers were eaten alive on their wedding day.
Hello Carina! Greetings from the humble metropolis of Salem, Oregon. I assume this town is named after the city in Massachusetts or the brand-name cigarette or the Israeli extreme metal band and definitely not the Salem witch trials.
I stopped in Salem because I somehow managed to lose almost my entire supply of felt-tip pens. And so now I am sitting pen-rich in a downtown Starbucks.
The non-Starbucks coffee shop I found was out of business. I don’t know where the cool kids in Salem hang out, which is just as well because I’m thirty-two years old and about as cool as a pair of argyle socks.
The radio station they’re playing here seems calculated to make me feel as old as possible. My friend Tom gets married tomorrow on a farm north of here and south of Portland, and that also makes me feel old. But what really makes me feel old is complaining about stuff, so in a way all this bitching is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Thankfully, driving around avoiding reality makes me feel not old.
Salem is a sleepy little town whose economy appears to be based on antique shops and road construction.
Hello again, Carina! This time it’s greetings from beautiful Portland, Oregon. Per the local city ordinance I have included a picture of a bird in this artwork; please find it below. Today I woke up and ate a waffle.
I am in town for Tom’s wedding, and this morning I met up with my friends Reid and Megan, who are in town for another person’s bachelor party. They brought their new baby, so I expect things at the party will be pretty tame.
It used to be that weddings were a good place to, you know, I guess what I’m trying to say is that most folks at the weddings I attend these days are already married or coupled up themselves, and my “date” for the shindig is a pair of dogs. Also, it doesn’t help that I have no house and live in a van, which almost necessarily entails a concomitant decline in daily hygienic standards.
I think I recall a recent Cosmo magazine poll on what women want, and “infrequent showerer” was second from last, barely edging out “man who lives in vehicle”. But that’s Cosmo readers, and this is Portland. I’m seeing a lot of grungy clothes and unwashed hair this morning, and suddenly the odds look good.
Portland: Fifty percent catching up with friends from college, fifty percent brand new weirdos. Enjoying the former right now.
