Monday, September 29, 2008

On my knees in front of the event

Chicago was wonderful. Old friends, too much food, too many jokes, not enough time. Lots of tomfoolery and breakfasts and getting lost, none of which translate too well into a dryly-written internet life story. Summary: we had fun! In the end, I both did and did not want to leave, which I suppose is an integral part of this whole "growing up and moving away" business. I'd better get used to it, since it doesn't look like we'll all be moving into a giant castle overlooking the sea anytime soon.

As you may or may not know, I flew to Chicago to see My Bloody Valentine. I've been waiting for this show for about 4 years now (when Pitchfork first posted that they were reuniting). Since less than .01% of the people reading this blog care about 90's shoegazer bands, I will keep this short: if you fly 2,000 miles to see a concert, it probably means that you love this band, that they really mean something to you, and that, yes, while standing in line you will repeatedly almost burst into tears of sheer joy and nerves and anticipation. These things are true. And if you fly 2,000 miles to see a band, people will probably want to know if it lived up to your expectations. Unfortunately, this is not a question that can really be answered, at least not with language. You might spend the entire plane ride home trying to make sense of what exactly happened. You will probably fail. What I mean to say is that it was almost nothing like I expected, and we didn't high-five and yell "awesome!" when it was over, and the noise and vibrations were so intense that we physically suffered, but the fact that I have not stopped thinking about it for even an hour since it happened means... something. I have no context for such an experience and sometimes I am terrified by the extent that I am unable to describe what it was like (trying to find even one word makes me lapse into a sort of half-trance as my mind spins its wheels in the mud), and well, it was really just a group of people playing some loud guitars and surely bodies and minds have to be expected to react to such things in new and sometimes alarming ways, but... by golly, I still maintain that it meant something!

I don't know why I ramble on, when all I need is one Harold Brodkey quote:

"I distrust summaries, any kind of gliding through time, any too great a claim that one is in control of what one recounts; I think someone who claims to understand but who is obviously calm, someone who claims to write with emotion recollected in tranquility, is a fool and a liar. To understand is to tremble. To recollect is to reenter and be riven. An acrobat after spinning through the air in a mockery of flight stands erect on his perch and mockingly takes his bow as if what he is being applauded for was easy for him and cost him nothing, although meanwhile he is covered with sweat and his smile is edged with a relief chilling to think about; he is indulging in a show-business style; he is pretending to be superhuman. I am bored with that and with where it has brought us. I admire the authority of being on one's knees in front of the event."

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Revenge: Not as sweet as promised

This morning I was at work, stirring my oatmeal, when I spied some movement out of the corner of my eye. Well what do you know! It happened to be the biggest spider I've ever seen in the "wild", taking a little stroll down the aisle by my desk. It was about the size of my palm, with a huge body and fat legs and horrific markings. No, really -- completely appalling. It could've eaten a small mammal. NO, REALLY. COMPLETELY APPALLING.

It was moving pretty slowly, and I was about to try to find help when it took a sudden and unexpected turn into - well, hello! - the cubicle of a woman who is really, really not nice to me. As in, she sabotages my work and spreads lies. Hey, no big deal! Anyway, I watched with a certain amount of sick glee as the spider walked in to her empty cube, turned a corner, and disappeared. I continued stirring my oatmeal. She was coming down the aisle already as the spider entered her cubicle, so I figured the whole thing would be over in about 10 seconds; she'd see it (the thing cast a shadow, how could it hide?), become hysterical, and I'd continue stoically pouring honey into my oatmeal, laughing on the inside. THIS PLAN COULD NOT FAIL, OBVIOUSLY.

Except, it totally did! She came back to her desk, sat down, and started working. She did not see the spider. I continued stirring the oatmeal. She continued working. It had to be there, right? I found an old paper, ran to the recycling bin, and casually peered into her cubicle on the way back to my desk. Oh my God! Oh my God. Ohhhhhhh my God, the spider was no longer there. But if not there... where? My cubicle??! My hair? Did it jump into my hair?? It's in my hair!!! When I realized that the spider had departed for parts unknown, I almost fainted. You think I'm joking, but I'm telling you -- I had to go sit in the bathroom with my head between my legs for about 20 minutes. Because, I don't know if I mentioned this, but... the spider was as big as my palm. Ohhhh ho ho ho h ooooo no, it was not good.

So, how do you think I spent the rest of my day? Why, living in a hellish state of paranoia, of course! The spider never reappeared, and I wasted most of the day looking around suspiciously and swatting at phantom spiders that were crawling on my feet. As for the woman I was trying to get revenge on, she passed the day in peace and never had any idea of what had happened. I see that I should be absorbing a life lesson here, but I refuse! As I write this, there's another spider spinning a big web right outside my window and right over the place on the roof where I like to sit. How am I going to get rid of this thing? It's hanging in midair. I actually considered a pellet gun for a second, before realizing how insane that sounded. Ok, but wait, would that work? Or could I spray poison on it? Does anyone have a flame thrower I could borrow? We've all seen those Wile E. Coyote cartoons, so I think we know how this is going to end: walking off the roof while holding an "Acme Spider Killer," looking down, saying "Yipe!" and falling. It's been fun.

But anyway, I'm going to Chicago tomorrow! I would love to tell you more, but I've used up all my energy raging against spiders. I return on Sunday, we'll talk then!

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

"breaking" news, part 2

The good news: my wrist isn't broken!

The bad news: apparently, the type of extreme sprain that i have is more painful than a break. also, i have to wear a giant splint for 6 weeks. oh, bother.

Thus begins my one-handed life. You will probably notice that it contains fewer capital letters, for which i apologize. For my first one-handed meal i made a curry, which took forever because i had to be careful not to sully my splint with any of the ingredients, lest i sentence myself to smelling like an indian restaurant for 6 weeks. also, try mincing garlic with one hand. haha, only a crazy person would do that, right?? well, technically, yes.

for inspiration, i leave you with a photo of the one-armed drummer from def leppard:


army of one!!

Monday, September 15, 2008

My Wrist Hurts, and other tales of woe

Breaking news! I tripped and fell tonight while running (there was a stick, we exchanged words) and... ow. I no longer have any skin on my left leg, knee, hand, wrist, elbow, or shoulder. I also appear to have sprained my wrist, badly. Can you imagine what would happen if I tried something like hang-gliding? Or mountain climbing? I'm barely even getting through a normal day without dying!

Oh, and hey! I figured out what my tattoo should be: "Stop buying new books, jerk" in bold font, on my hand. I seem to have a real problem. Actually, the appearance of the word "books" would probably serve as a sort of trigger, backfire, and cause me to run to Powell's, so maybe that's out. I use the other side of my bed (I knew I bought a queen size for a reason) as a sort of "on deck" section where I pile the new books; then I can easily make a decision about which ones I want to read that day. Unfortunately, it's getting to the point where there's no longer room for my entire body in the bed, which so far hasn't deterred me from buying even MORE BOOKS (just yesterday, even!). I'm like an eccentric cat lady, without the cats. There are 18 sitting there right now. If I get to 20, I'll have to sleep in the yard. Please stop me before I get to 20. (I'm definitely getting to 20.)

Monday, September 08, 2008

Pattern recognition

Dude!

I have a friend that starts nearly every "paragraph" of his speech with Dude! I guess I'd only passively noticed this until the other day, when it started to strike me as funny, since the Dude! is nearly always followed by something akin to, "I was reading this article about economic systems in Africa the other day...". (Which is usually followed by a glazed expression on my part, since I only want to talk about kittens and candy.) He is also a frequent user of sweet, kick ass!, and word. Come to think of it, this pattern of speech could describe any number of people I know. A large portion of my friends talk sort of like hyper-literate versions of Jeff Spicoli. I don't know how this came to be, though there really is something that feels right about reducing something heady and complex to, "like, totally lame."

And I do it too, of course. I'm sure you've noticed the iron-clad pattern that this blog follows. It goes something like this:

Irreverent greeting!

Something I noticed the other day that has no real bearing on my life or yours. Details of my "deep" observation. Wrap-up of story, followed by weak joke to end the paragraph. Zing!

Abrupt change of subject. Story of how I fell/said something dumb/made a fool of myself. Another "zinger."

Weak attempt at segue, followed by a loosely related list of things I want to talk about. Meditation about how great Portland is. Promise to revisit subject that I was not able to adequately cover (always broken). Realization that I have run out of things to say, followed by literary equivalent of, "Uh."

Attempt at hilarious sign-off, followed by exclamation points!!!

How did I even get on this subject? What I actually came to talk about today, though, is the surprising realization that I'm beginning to think that tattoos look, like... kinda good. Like... really kinda good, actually. Oh boy, this is how it starts. I welcome your attempts to change my mind. But wouldn't I look great with a giant, soaring eagle covering my back? (I'm kidding, Mom.) I guess I'm a real Portlander now.

Sunday, September 07, 2008

Paradise City

Hello from my new house!

I apologize in advance if I fall asleep in the middle of this entry. Between seeing shows every day (Music Fest NW) and moving all of my earthly belongings across town, there hasn't been much opportunity for rest. Luckily, today is a lazy Sunday -- I slept in my new room for the first time last night, and this morning I sat on the porch and read the paper and made half-hearted attempts to continue unpacking.

Can I tell you about my new neighborhood? I'm now down in SE Portland, in an area that I have tentatively nicknamed "Cute Boy Paradise." It is really right in the middle of everything (SE Portland is sort of the standard place where everybody lives and does stuff), whereas my old neighborhood was a bit more isolated and less developed (but still wonderful). I can basically walk or ride my bike to everything, including the best grocery store ever, which is 4 blocks away. THIS IS GOOD NEWS. Also, my rent is cheaper than it was in Urbana! Also also, my window opens up to the roof, so I can sit on top of the house and look out over the neighborhood. Yes! It's always been a huge hassle to get from North Portland to activities in SE, so I'm looking forward to living down here and getting to know a whole different part of the city.

My new address is easy to remember:

2424 SE 24th Ave.
Portland, OR
97214

I'm just... really super excited. Pictures will come after I finish unpacking.

So anyway, there was also Music Fest NW. As I predicted in a previous entry, it was in fact both "totally awesome" and "totally exhausting." On Friday I saw live music from 5:30 pm until 2:00 am! I want to lie down just thinking about it. The high point was most definitely seeing Built to Spill play "Perfect From Now On" in its entirety; I actually sort of started to tear up during the first song, just because that album has been on heavy rotation during so many points in my life. Oh man! Yeah, the whole festival was pretty great.

For no real reason, here is a photo of what I had for dinner a few weeks ago. Maybe this is why I can't button my pants anymore? (note: not an exaggeration)


Dude. That is chocolate almond cake, caramel mousse, and salted almonds, all covered in chocolate. Accompanying it is a Rogue chocolate stout with mocha ice cream. I felt very ill afterwards. Luckily, I went from living near the N. Portland location of Pix Patisserie to living near the SE location, so I can continue being gluttonous without any extra effort. I'm also living near the SE locations of a few other of my most beloved N. Portland hangouts (Fresh Pot, Albina Press, Por Que No, even Powell's has a SE location near me) so I can basically live the same life I've been living all along. But with more cute boys!