Even though I work for myself, so it’s not really necessary to observe holiday weekends inasmuch as I can take three days off any time I want to providing the shit’s all done, even though that’s the case, I chose to observe this past Memorial Day by not working for three days straight. It was nice. I got to spend an evening with my ladyfriends in town from San Diego for Sasquatch, I spent a long balmy day outside getting frazzled by the sun, I had big plans for Saturday night and then fell asleep on the couch, I went to the beach and watched dog owners heard their creatures around, I bbq’d, I zoo-bombed …
Good stuff, but who needs a damn holiday to do all that?
Cougs still loves Jardine from like a century ago when we all lived together on Jasper Street.
Annie pretended to be hanging out with us but was really hanging out with her iPhone.
Oh, I’ve recently become very interested in Tofutti Chocolate Cuties, sourdough bread, Underworld: Rise of the Lycans, and Elizabeth Cotten’s guitar plucking. You should look into these things. That’s all.
What I did was I jerked awake at 6:27 a.m., having missed the alarm, but jumped out of bed anyway and drove 80 mph through the wet summer morning out along the Columbia. Still and mirror-like, the water, with ghostly mists. Ate an omelet for breakfast in The Dalles, then climbed up a trail to survey the Oregon summertime. It was all electric green grass and wildflowers, and we were exactly right where we should be.
People are building things up at Mt. hood, and because it was a beautiful day we went up there to watch, skate, and also hang out in the shade of the trees. The whole process is fascinating. I like seeing the concrete dump out of the pump truck in a big wet mass. Then I’ll go off and do something for a little while, and when I come back it isnt a pile of gray mud anymore but a clean clay-looking creation, damp and smooth like the belly of a fish.
Have you read this? Amazing. Like most things from Scandinavia, it’s stunning in its understated-ness. There’s something about the end, though. What really happened? I’m still debating it.
It’s May 11—the day after Mother’s Day, the day before Tuesday. It’s getting closer to summer, and one thing’s for certain. That lovely twilight time when the sun dips down and everything gets all soft and glowingly beautiful—that golden hour is getting a little longer. Everything is nicer at this time, so get out and get in it.
In between coffee, work, and getting in Coug’s face, Lance often picks up my camera and sneakily snaps off sniper shots. He then replaces camera to exact spot he found it. Like nothing even happened. And time marches on. Below are a few gifts from the photography fairy I found on my desktop after downloading my memory card from the last month or two.
A new president. An era of high hopes. Some believe change. Others are just living. Anyway, it only lasted a week or two but for a brief moment in time there was a DIY concrete QP across the street from Nemo. New Hampshire Chris and others stole over there under cover of darkness (or maybe during broad daylight, how should I know?) and built some steep-ish tranny on an un-used patch of asphalt behind the tennis courts. Topped it off with a chunk of curb and some wax, and it was good to go.
It being within 50 feet of my workplace, I partook in this spot a few times, not as much as I should of course but how was I to know?! I didn’t realize our time together would be so limited. I still had things to do over there, I even had plans to take pictures—but alas, not even that could be accomplished before the city (or whoever) came and tore it out. Gone. Barely a trace of concrete crumbs left over as evidence.
Anyway, you’d think with all the other dumb crap that goes on in that park—jousting and juggling and bicycle handstands and tai chi—you’d think that a couple skateboarders playing around on an innocent little feature would be just fine.
Like I said before, I didn’t take any pictures. The above screengrab is from a sweet video that the Tribute boys made. Paddle over there and see what I’m talking about.
I want to remember Portland like this, with all the friends gathered up in one place and the sun warming our backs.
And flower petals falling off the trees like snow and getting blown into gutters.