Machotaildrop

Went to the Clinton Street Theatre last weekend to watch the Portland “premiere” of Machotaildrop—this sort of mysterious art film made by some Canadian skateboarders.

It’s about a boy, and an aging pro, and some wolf men, and a mansion inside a cave. I don’t really want to recap the movie or something, you should just watch it—although be warned, the lack of bangin’ action seemed to disappoint a few tall-boy crushers in the crowd. No death metal, etc. It’s a real movie! Think A Clockwork Orange. Think Rushmore. Think Charlie And The Chocolate Factory. Think Thrashin'. A bizarre mixture of sweet, funny, strange, and sad. I liked it.

I found out that the guys who made it, Corey Adams and Alex Craig, won a short film contest put on by Fuel TV, and the prize was a million-dollar budget to make a movie. With that mil, they made Machotaildrop. Wow. Rad. I paid ten dollars to watch this movie. I hope all ten went to straight to them.

Here's the trailer:

Machotaildrop - Trailer from friendlyfire on Vimeo.

"to go": a travel list

I'll be honest. I've traveled a lot. It's what I do. I don't know.

In recent years, I've professed to being "over traveling," but upon further examination, I don't really think that's it. I'm over excessive traveling. I like being home and knowing I'll be home next week. You can develop, not quite a routine, cuz that sounds depressing, but more like a natural pace. And I live somewhere nice, so being here is nice.

But still. One does get the call to roam, the wild hair, the need to see places unseen. Life is only so long, I gotta know what the earth beholds before I die, right?

With that said, I give you my current "to go" list. Kinda like a "to do" list, but for journeys instead of chores. (thank you Google Images for the below destination pics)

The Grand Canyon: I've seen it from the plane, but that's like saying I had a layover in the Grand Canyon airport. It doesn't count. Need to go to the edge, hike down to the bottom, and climb back up again. A journey through time, I've heard.

The south of France: More specifically, Provence. Been craving baguettes, dusty roads, and lavender fields.

Tofino, B.C.: I'm intrigued by Vancouver Island. Never been there, myself, but have heard tales of it's wild, rugged awesomeness from friends to the north. Soon, for this one....soon.

Montenegro: I don't care if it's run by the Russian mafia—looking at this fucking place. Maybe rent a sports car and pretend I'm in that James Bond movie or something.

Ashville, N.C.: Don't ask me why, but I'm curious about North Carolina. Went there once, near Wilmington, and attended a lovely southern wedding. But what about Ashville. I think it'd be just like Portland—only, hotter, with a graceful Southern pace.

Redwoods Nat'l Park: Big trees. Older than time. Take me to them.

Portugal: Europe's final Hail Mary before the Atlantic spreads out towards North America. And have you ever heard Portuguese? A marvelous language.

escape

I retreated to nature for the weekend. There was something strange in the air—just needed to get out of town. Fritter around in the woods and contemplate.

Hiked along a trail beneath the canopy. It smelled so good in there. Clean, you know?

Emerged into the sun and scaled a rocky ridgleline...

To sit perched atop a precipice with our legs tingling from the height. The wind howled, and a flock of birds whipped around us catching the currents. Below, the Columbia slowly flowed west.

There's something about evening light in the summertime, isn't there? It's thick, like honey.

A fire, to cook corn on the cob—and later, to read by.

By noon the next day, we were tasting pear and cherry wine along highway 35...

And gaping up at the backside of Mt. Hood, which looks not unlike the Matterhorn.

River Rhythms

On Thursday, it was 100 degrees. People all over the Northwest found themselves at rivers and ponds and other water bodies. In fact, we had a little thingy for Lance’s birthday at a spot on the Lewis River in Washington. Bit like Shangri La, really.

On a day when upper lip and stomach sweat prevails, even when you try to move very little, there was nowhere else to be besides ... right there. Cathy knows.

Koerner uses SPF 30, but still, the farmer's tan seems to triumph.

Also, due to the heat that followed the rainiest June in, like, forever, mosquito larvae hidden in gutters and birdbaths and other standing water all over Portland hatched and suddenly detonated on unassuming human creatures. Accustomed to getting one, maybe two bug bites over an entire Portland summer, we were slaughtered—and now look back on last summer and all the summers before as a time of amazing innocence. Ah, the good old days.

That's Lance and Cody swimming back from riding the rapids above. Cody pulled himself out of the water and puked. Apparently it was pretty hectic.

we have the music

Paul Baribeau - Chelsea Hotel No. 2 from If You Make It on Vimeo.

Hi there. A present for you. Paul Baribeau singing Leonard Cohen's "Chelsea Hotel." In fact I did just post something about LC the other day, but these posts are unrelated I promise. A happy accident of sorts. Love Paul, and this song. In fact, if you know me, you know I have a small tattoo that pays tribute to lines from this song ...

"And clenching your fist for the ones like us, who are oppressed by the figures of beauty, you fixed yourself, you said, 'Well never mind, we are ugly but we have the music.'"