15 Joys
The Ballad Of Buster Scruggs, mini ramp + beers and bar food, not forcing myself to be present for this blog, as work-life blazes and the burnout is real. Etc. Read More>
1. The Ballad Of Buster Scruggs: Recalcitrant moving-picture poetry from the Coen Bros.
2. Mini ramp + beers and bar food: A tried and true Friday night maneuver.
3. Not forcing myself to be present for this blog, as work-life blazes and the burnout is real.
4. The purchase and decoration of a tiny living tannenbaum, to be planted on New Year's Day.
5. Wine tasting in Oregon orchard country. Wine tastes good! But I liked the views better I think. On the way home, we saw Mt. Hood framed by a burnished fall sky.
6. Thanksgiving in the mountains, in the snow. Walking in the wilderness for most of the day day, every day.
7. The Impossible Burger at Keys on NE Killingsworth.
8. Barbarian Days, A Surfing Life by William Finnegan. Bare feet. Malaria. Acid trips. A world of waves. And all the stories behind it all.
9. The sisterhood of Sunday morning walks. Despite weather, we get out of bed early to wander the NE Alameda neighborhood drinking coffee and peering in the windows of the rich.
10. The Man Who Invented Christmas, a charming film about Charles Dickens and his creative process as he wrote "A Christmas Carol"—a seminal ghost story from my childhood.
11. Cold weather, and the need for a fire in the wood stove, and the need for the puppy to lay beneath that fire to dry the drench from her fur.
12. The proximity of Christmas vacation, and hopping an early flight to the Colorado high country to go get buried in the storm.
13. The Christmas cactuses at my desk, per their name, blooming right on time, right when one needs them.
14. Nighttime dog excursions. After a day cooped in a cubicle, walking up and down empty streets strung with Christmas lights, with the moon and stars.
15. The white elephant gift exchange at the Nemo Christmas party, where I had a decent bottle of Tempernillo stolen from me, only to come up on some homemade Chex mix and an IPA. Even Steven.
Comfort Media
It rained today. Jedda the pup doesn't like the rain. She was born in a heat wave, house trained on the hard summer dirt. Now she’s a warm-weather princess in a fur-feather boa. Read More>
It rained today. Jedda the pup doesn't like the rain. She was born in a heat wave, house trained on the hard summer dirt. Now she’s a warm-weather princess in a fur-feather boa—and I’ve never had a dog before who gave two-shits about the weather?
In the last weeks, the fall light has warmed to perfectly golden brown. I’ve been tired, I’ve had a cold, I’ve spent my nights mostly inside on soft surfaces, wearing soft things. As the days get shorter, like moth to flame, I go in search of mental coziness. It’s a gauzy-plush free fall into a nest of comfort media—which for me is rugged-beautiful adventure documentaries and old-person arts-and-entertainment podcasts. See below!
FREE SOLO: Newsflash—Alex Honnold free-soloed up El Cap in Yosemite. This documentary on Honnold's adventure, while ostensibly about the man and his rock, for me was really about relationships—and the ways they hold you back.
GIVEN: A beautifully framed piece about nomadic surf travel through the eyes of a toddler. Let's all quit our jobs and roam wherever we wish and most of all—never wear shoes again.
FRESH AIR WITH ADAM COHEN—LEONARD COHEN'S SON: Terry interviews Adam about his dad Leonard. Adam isn't an easy interview—his brain's wired differently like his old man's. That makes this talk richer, more thought provoking, more full of a cool kind of sad beauty.
As Of Late
To wind up the weekend, we bombed the long hill from the Portland Zoo through the city to the Willamette River and the beers beyond. It was a national holidayand so the sidewalks were stacked with many shiny souls. Read More>
Goodbye, Cougar: Last week, I set crystals in the window to catch the light. Because in the late evening of late August, Cougar died. She died of old age, quietly, at home. As partners, we rode together for 19 years. Another lifetime ago, at an apartment on 12th street in my senior year of college, she used her pin-sharp kitten claws to climb the curtains while I tried to sleep a hangover off. What a privilege to be present for a entire life from beginning to end—and all the places that took us. She's lived in the mountains, she's lived by the sea. She's lived in a small town, she's lived in the city. Cougar, you were a great friend. You never let a lap go empty. You never let a puppy get you down. You came on dog walks at your leisure. You opened the bedroom door I'd latched shut. You, a mouse-killer with rabbit-soft fur. You, forever tidy in a grey tuxedo. You, curled up on the couch—a sense of peace brought into the room by your sleeping form. Cougar, you will be missed.
Homesteading, Labor Day edition: The thing with building things is that it takes time. I'm impatient. After a day of breaking every-known OSHA law on the tippy top of a latter with a nail gun clutched in my spindly arms, I lie in bed staring at the stars, and my heart bursts with wanting it all done right now and Wifi installed so I can sit at my desk before the window writing, while outside, happy trees repose.
Holiday speed wobbles: To wind up the weekend, we bombed the long hill from the Portland Zoo through the city to the Willamette River and the beers beyond. It was a national holidayand so the sidewalks were stacked with many shiny souls. It was an unflinching cruise through cars, humans, greenery, grit and grime. While I dislike driving or even riding my bike in traffic, skating through the human sea is different altogether—I find it's a fine way to invite the anarchy of the city.
3 Gratitudes
Puppies: Apropos of last weekend when I went over to Jesse's house and met his new dog, which made my day—my world. This young, sleek fellow is a parvovirous survivor. You can't keep him down. Convalesced from his ailment, he now likes to hang with the big dogs, nipping at their heels, and then fall over spent to nap amidst cool shade. I can’t explain it but I just feel better—more tethered to earth—when I’m near a sleeping dog.
Josh Brolin on What The Fuck: A great actor who shines in person, too. There’s a deep satisfaction to knowing that a guy you gravitated towards on screen due to his rough wit and hard-boiled-ness is, like, really that guy.
My garden at 4:30 p.m. on a Sunday: This weekend I sat out in the yard looking, just looking. There was a wonderful heat. There was so much noise—bees and blue jays, kids and cookouts. I could see the blue, way up there in the place you can never really go. I felt comforted. I felt confident in a future.
I WATCH THINGS
Bone Tomahawk: A western told in a new strange voice. The most gruesome. The quietest. The scariest. The subtle/funniest.
King In The Wilderness: I make no claims to the rite of Martin Luther King Jr. history aficionado-dom but did watch this film and felt punched in the gut because he is, newsflash, a human.
Isle Of Dogs: The “new Wes Anderson movie.” A little piece about dogs and people and power and love and all that that encompasses—which is everything. Let it wash over you. Watch the toylike critters come alive and try and fail like we all do. Wait for the theme song “I Won’t Hurt You,” which is very weepy/beautiful, to link up with your pulse. It’s cool.
Arthur Miller: Writer: On the one hand, it’s a doc about an iconic writer, the voice behind Death Of A Salesman, a victim of the Blacklist, the one-time husband to Marilyn Monroe. On the other hand, it’s a doc about a daughter interviewing her dad and trying to unravel the family truths we all struggle with and search for and never really find. "Art is long. Life is short. I forgot the latter."
The House: I theorize that if there’s a comedy featuring the world’s favorite funny actors that plops into your streaming service without having first taken your notice in the theater, it’s gonna stink. This important Will Ferrell/Amy Poehler film did not.