Oregon Trifecta + a Dylan Dilemma
The Oregon Trifecta came through town and I went down to Tigard like last year to see some ripping, but the scummy sleazy scene full of tatted-up flat-billers scared me away. But not before I saw Lance Mountain murder the vert walls (above) and Tim Johnson blast airs in the square pocket (below). However, I may have been the only person there not drunk.
In other news, I’m faced with a dilemma. To Dylan, or not to Dylan?
Here’s what I'm struggling with: On the one hand, the cheapest ticket would be 50 bux, and I’m a cheap-ass. On the other hand, this is Dylan. One the one hand, he’s playing in the Rose Garden—an arena of biblical proportions, and I’d be standing in the general admission staring at the backs of all the tall folks in front of me. On the other hand, this is Dylan. On the one hand, I heard he puts on a bad live show—that he’s a dick and purposely blows off the audience. On the other hand, this is Dylan.
I just don’t know, you know? What do you think?
You Think I’m Dead, But I Sail Away…
I had the pleasure of seeing Frank Black (or Black Francis, or whatever he’s calling himself) of Pixies fame play last night at the Aladdin Theatre. Just the bald man, his electric guitar, and a spotlight. After a few songs from his solo stuff he ripped into a blistering version of “Cactus” (bloody your hands on a cactus tree, wipe it on your dress and send it to me!!) which somehow developed into a demented rendition of “Wave of Mutilation.” My main thoughts: I was there to hear him play Pixies songs but his solo stuff is sort of remarkable—twisting and turning and telling stories, like Leonard Cohen meets Willie Nelson or something.
As far as the crowd goes, I’m not sure where I fit in. I felt too young to be one of the wrinkled rockers dragging their offspring along because there was finally a show that 6-9 year olds could enjoy, but then again I was too old to be one of those 6-9 year olds. Luckily I didn’t have to talk to anyone, just sat alone up there in the balcony with a peanut butter cookie and let the waves wash over me.
wash my feet in the waves
The heat has broken and thank god for that. I’m currently celebrating the thermometer dipping back down in the 90s by not being a miserable bitch, not getting sweaty-faced forehead zits, not eating cold sandwiches for every single meal, not being forced to go to the grossest spot on the grossest river just because it was close—desperately seeking heat relief in brown, toddler-infested waters. Diapers floating by. Ugh.
You see, I’m more of an 80s girl, temperature-wise.
In other news, Lady Coulon and I drove out to the ocean yesterday where it was a breezy 70 and the sky was azure. First stop, Cannon Beach. Streets packed with sheet-white tourist (fanny packs, floppy hats etc) and the driving was slow going. Arrived at the skatepark, did our thing for about a half hour until we were asked to leave by a pimple-faced ranger on a bike due to our lack of helmets. On to Seaside, more skating, then a long meandering walk on the beach (a concession to our third passenger, Noot). It was all kites, crashing waves, and families of the obese roasting in the sand. Next came lunch at a corner café: a beer and a giant salad with artichoke hearts. Then: a relaxing drive back into the hot haze of Portland.
Ok, so in fact there was a bit of coastal fog, just on the beach, though.
So the cats are panting like black labs and the Sandy river looks like a public pool in Detroit. Only one thing to do: go in the shade and don't move.summer tripping
It’s 101 degrees outside, or so they say, but I’m in here in the shade thinking about stepping into a cold lake. Anyhow, in celebration of July I took a week off and went home to Colorado to see my family. Family is, well, it’s family. If you have one, you know. We ate our meals on the deck and I saw 20 different kinds of wildflowers on my evening walks, surrounded by sagebrush and giddy from the altitude. I think Colorado in the summer is better than Colorado in the winter, which is an interesting conclusion because I always thought Colorado winters were great. Anyway, I’m done here. Bye.
Mom and dad on a stroll through sagebrush and mariposa lilies.
My view as a little tyke, more or less. You see i grew up right in the notch of this valley.
My mommy's flower garden.
A place to go for a walk after dinner and be deliciously alone.