.Sherowski Daily.

Among the many changes in my life during the past year, perhaps one of the biggest was getting a dog. Or “having a puppy” as I like to think of it since many people I know are having babies and we all seem to complain about the same thing—can’t get a full night’s sleep and spend all day cleanin up poop.

It’s amazing how you learn to love something. At first, young Lefty created chaos in my life. But then, slowly, he created stability. When you have a dog, you have to do things every day, like walk them and feed them and such. Pretty soon, those things became things that prevented the world’s chaos from pressing in. On really hot days, we’d walk under the cool pine canopy at Mt. Tabor, both moving kinda slowly—me pondering the quiet, him I can only imagine pondering the cacophony of sniffs brought on by the breeze. Next thing I knew, I couldn’t live without him.

Look at ‘im! He used to be so cute. That’s what I tell him now that he’s in his awkward, lanky phase.

The feet in the waterbowl thing is cute but actually pretty annoying since it creates Lake Superior on our kitchen floor every time he does it.

What can I say, Lefty is a child of the skatepark, just like the rest of ’em.

You see, he’s even down to pose with me when I’m dressed as a German tourist. Now that’s devotion.

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I took a small trip to Washington, to the Olympic peninsula. A tiny trip, just two days. We went walking to the top of Mt. Townsend, which is about a stone’s throw from Port Angeles if you threw the stone around 46 miles. Lefty came with us, he had the time of his life. It was so quiet up there, not a single goddamn human noise. Just soft forest sounds.

On the way up, we walked through this peculiar dark wood where nothing was growing and the fog was rolling around like milk. Really got the hackles up. It’s hard to explain why, but I left that place feeling like it was some sort of portal to the underworld.

At the top, our view of the Pudget Sound was totally obstructed by giant September rain clouds. Oh well.

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It’s a nice Portland tradition—reclining on a grassy knoll watching a thousand Swifts buzz their urban roost inside the chimney of Chapman Elementary. Fall will come, as it always does. But until then, these savage summer evenings.

 

I know it’s not polite to photograph people while they’re eating, but I just wanted to memorex the seasonal bounty spread out here. Heirloom tomatoes in vinegar, green bean salad, baguette and a bottle of wine.

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As promised, I went to see Archers of Loaf play at the Crystal Ballroom. I haven’t listened to them much since we all loved them back in college—there’s just been a lot of other stuff to chomp on since. Thus, from the very first song I was instantly transported back to 1996. Boulder, Colorado, a pair of khakis from Goodwill, a pack of cloves, a coffee on the hill and then a douchey party. I was THERE. It was great.

Your mind is obviously capable of storing a lot of useless information for long periods of time, and I learned that I still knew every AOL lyric. I also realized that I can’t say for certain what any single Archers of Loaf song is actually about. It felt good to finally admit it. Anyway, they opened with Audio Whore and closed with Web in Front, and everyone was ecstatic—we all jumped around plenty and yelled till we were hoarse.

Sebadoh opened up for Archers. I actually like Sebadoh but they sounded like shit. But I don’t think it was a poor performance, I just think that semi-boring discordant crap passed for good in the 90s. But whatever, they played Brand New Love and everyone was happy. Thank you, Lou.

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I like to think I’m not a tourist but a traveler. It’s essentially the same thing I guess but it doesn’t feel nearly as nerdy. In St. Thomas, we obviously weren’t locals—we weren’t that tan. But it was enough to not be associated with the dweebs from the cruise ships, who descended upon a beach en masse. All the hair braiders and trinket sellers and taxi drivers would then follow them around like an entourage. We were pretty invisible to the entourage because we brought our own beers from the market and roasted in the sun on our towels instead of renting beach chairs. I.E, we were on the broke plan. But the sun and the sand are free so it wasn’t really any problem for us.

 

It wasn’t a bad thing when the cruise shippers came around, it made for fantastic people watching, but I never got over seeing those giant ships. They were a cause for deep awe—something that seemed to defy physics and the laws of nature. Just … a lot of people in one place at one time.

 

We took an open-air bus through the cool jungle to the national park on St. John. Lance has sunscreen in his beard.

 

This is a hell of a place to endure a hangover. We moved very little. The sun and salt water left us tired and toasted.

 

The ferry from St. Thomas to St. John.

 

We hopped on a sail boat one day to go snorkeling in a few new locales and met some nice folks along the way.

 

Being on the boat was great because you didn’t have to do anything, just sit there and take in the deal spread out before you.

 

I’m pretty sure he’s pointing out a sea turtle?

 

Hawksnest Beach. I loved it for its emptiness. This is also where we snorkeled by a nurse shark and a gaggle of squid.

 

Charlotte Amalie, the capital of St. Thomas.

 

Taking 100 steps one step at at time.

 

Ships lanterns, painted cobalt.

 

Lance has a little thing for pirates. This is pretty much his dream beer.

 

I just love how they cut holes in the portico for the tree. I like to think I would’ve done the same.

 

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Amidst much sweat and in a daze from the heat, we wandered through an 18th century sugarcane plantation. Look at these colors and all that grand wood furniture. It’d be easy to sit on the veranda here drinking rum and lemonade, and in the hot season—which is, coincidentally, also ravaged by hurricanes—board the place up and head north to the mainland. Hmm?

 

 

 

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