River Life
So Cal, you have your sparkling beach break; Jersey, you have your shore. But here in Oregon, our summertimes are defined by “river life.” Actually, it defines both summer and winter—one season, you go to the river, and one season, you think about how awesome it’s gonna be when you get to go to the river again.
The Sandy, the Clackamas, the Washougal, the Lewis … I know it’s not that time of year yet, but I’ve been persevering through rain, cold, and darkness for the next chance to toast on some round river rocks alongside one of these mighty rivers. And I know I’m not alone.
Come mid-June or so, river spots become a replacement for bars and parks and other places to gather. And if you have the whole day, then you’re obviously about to float. Required: Intertube, coozie, sunnies, and river shoes (kicked Vans slip-ons work great!).
Floating from one spot to the next provides soft, lazy hours of quiet, allowing you to contemplate the way the tree tips touch the sky and the odd birch leaf spiraling down stream at the exact same pace as you. Of course, if someone happens to bring a floating cooler, then things get a little loose out there on the river. Only within the realms of fun and safety, though, you understand. You come home from a day like that all sandy, sun-tanned and tired—but good-tired, you know? Ah, river life!
Like I said, I know it’s not summer yet, but my bones are positively ACHING for a river day in the extremely near future. See you out there?
A beauteous rope-swing spot near Hood River.
Lefty loves his unca’ Justin!
The journey is its own reward.
Backside
For the first time in my life I'm having recurring back troubles. Spasm of pain would be a great way to describe my left/mid spinal situation. Unfortunately, it's not from DOING anything, just from sitting and working, staring at a screen and then a catalog and back to a screen whilst my fingers jab madly at letter keys. It's awful, this is getting old—I'm DOING IT!
I broke down and went to the chiropractor, and it was enlightening. After sticking me with electrodes, they showed me some sort of computer graph of my spinal tension. Lo and behold, a clusterfuck of biomuscular distress on the right side of my neck! "Everything's connected," blah blah blah—but how crazy is it that my neck feels normal to me? According to the doctor, the source of the pain is not where the pain has manifested. It's a kinda metaphor for my life, really.
In other news, it smelled like spring today and I thought of Easter and cherry blossom canopies.
Today
Things that I did today: -Laid in bed with my eyes open for a full half hour before I got up. (I work afternoon/evenings, mornings are my motherfuckin leisure time).
-Listened to Kurt Vile, "Freak Train." (I mean I'm beyond caring if you like what I like, but this song's more mood than song. Like a middle finger for the world that you can stick in your pocket and pull out when needed.)
-Hoops at Laurelhurst park. (I'm the wackest of the wackest white chick to ever step to the court. My dog steals the ball from me. I made two shots in a row and felt the need to gloat in triumph.)
-Read from Nancy Milford's biography of Zelda Fitzgerald: "F. Scott, in an immaculate Norfolk jacket, gesturing nervously with a cigarette, Zelda brightly at his side, her clean wild hair brushed back from her face. But it was not her beauty that was arresting. It was her style, a sort of insolence toward life, her total lack of caution, her fearless and abundant pride."
A Forest
Feeling crispy from hosting multiple nights in a row of events at the park. I like socializing, but when forced do it too much I throw reverse and become an edgy bitch. I like drinking, but I don't like it when an entire subculture seems to depend on it. I'm only saying this because I just mopped half a keg of heffeweisen off the floor of the front office and am feeling slightly un-psyched. But this song is helping, you know?
