Insider Tirades

R.I.P. Mark Linkous

2010-03-08T13:56:00.001-08:00

That's really all I have to say...

Facebook

2009-11-03T15:54:00.000-08:00

After some consideration, I've decided that I will not sign up for Facebook. To my cousin in Tennessee, my friends and family in Denver, and my friends and co-workers in Portland, if you wanna get ahold of me, send me an e-mail. Otherwise, wake me when the next big thing hits the market. Maybe it won't revolt me as much as this incarnation of internet bollocks.

Ludditely yours,
Leo

something called 'volcano monitoring'???

2009-02-25T10:16:00.000-08:00

Bobby Jindal, Governor of Louisiana and rising star in the Republican party responded to Obama's speech last night with a focus on what he considers pork. He derided the need for volcano monitoring. Who needs it, you know? It's not like there are any volcanoes in America... or are there?

I can see three from my work, Mt. Adams, Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens. While we're at it, could we rid ourselves of government money for advance hurricane warning? What possible use could we have for something like that?

because it's been awhile

2009-02-23T22:17:00.000-08:00

it's raining. it's been a dryer, colder winter than normal for the northwest, more like a denver winter than a portland winter, but without the extreme bitter cold/frigid nights. i guess it's still more of a portland winter, but the lack of more or less constant rain, and the addition of a fair amount of snow (around christmas in particular), made the weather part of the move to the northwest a bit less compelling.

it's raining. it was pouring this morning when i left for work, but it was hardly sprinkling downtown when i arrived. a couple miles, and a world apart.

it's no longer raining. but you can hear the splash from the cars going by. there's something about wet streets, soaked green grass and soft, soggy earth that gives a certain serenity to life. life slows, patience is required, heart beats in time to that sLow song on the radio.

the cats aren't feeling the zen. they're rolling around, claws gleaming in the lamplight, letting out meowls when they get a clean hit. of course they're gone now, the dog in tow, looking on but not daring to get too close.

i wish i had time to pick up the guitar. or the bass... or the ukulele. but i need sleep more than i need a jam session. i hate to say that.

i guess i'm getting old...

I wish, I wonder, I...

2009-02-11T21:24:00.000-08:00

sometimes, i wish i had more of an inclination to write. i've been so bad lately at keeping in touch with old friends, be it through e-mails, via this blog, or sending christmas cards (portland got snowed in this year right before christmas, so good intentions weren't good enough). i wish i expressed myself more in writing... like i used to...

but i'm not a writer. my art is music, as it has been for as long as i can remember. and the great thing about being a musician, instead of a writer, is that if you aren't terribly inspired at any given moment, you can still express your art by interpreting another's creation. in writing that's called plagiarism. in music it's called covering. and as long as you aren't trying to make money off of it, or pass it off as your own, it's cool.

and i can enjoy it, and others can enjoy it, and it's all good.

then, when i play my own tunes, songs inspired by others (because there isn't a new thought under the sun), that has its own magic. i can fight with myself, and try to find the chord that makes the sound i hear in my head, and that can be frustrating (like writer's block), but it's a frustration i have dealt with for half my life and that i hope to deal with for the rest of it.

but writing isn't the same. i either over-edit, or let the initial train of thought be the end product (as with this post :) ). and start most of my sentences with "i" or "and" or "but", and fuck-all with fragments and consistent tense and so forth.

I Wonder

i wonder if everyone everywhere is as anxious as everyone i see seems (even the man in the mirror). the girl in the restaurant, the man on the street, the pimply high school kid on the skateboard, they all seem to have the same fear in their eyes. well, not so much the high schoolers, but that's a product of the self-centeredness of that age. but everyone who has to make the money to pay rent, or clothe themselves, or feed themselves... everyone who has a job can only hope to keep their jobs. a couple of my co-workers have been laid off, a few friends have asked if there are any opportunities at my work, and everyday i hope i'm busy enough to feel needed enough to feel secure. and so far, i've been staying busy enough, but i worry the work's gonna run out. i can't say i feel 100% secure job-wise... oh well...

but i am happy...

because i have my music, and i have my health, and i have my job, and a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food (and beer) in my belly. i have a girl i love who loves me, a dog, two cats, an allergy to cats, and drugs for said allergies. there are peaks and valleys in life, and i'm currently here. um, up here, not down there...

just moved to the ghetto...

2009-01-24T23:59:00.001-08:00

and i could swear the crackhead on the bus complimented my legs?! sweet...

Hooray Internets

2008-04-25T10:23:00.001-07:00

Seriously?

2008-04-23T19:41:00.000-07:00

Pennsylvania went to Clinton by ten points. The cynical, disingenuous, war-mongering centrist democrat who inspires the poor, uneducated, old, and superstitious with her 109-million-dollar everyman act has lived to campaign another day. She hammered on Obama with claims that he's elitist due to his observation of bitterness in this country's lower and middle classes. I'm (about) middle class, and hell yes, I'm bitter. I'm bitter about people voting us into war and beating the obliterating Iran drums. And I'm bitter that her shill Stephanopolous helped Charlie Gibson waste the first half of the most-watched debate with pointless, Fox-worthy, side issues, while ignoring the real issues that are going to matter for the next 4-8, 50-100 years; like health care, the environment, the war, education, and the economy, just to name a few. And she has the gall to say of Rev. Wright he "would not have been my pastor", while conveniently forgetting her husband's previous association with the good reverend. Who, by the way, did quite a lot of good from his post when he wasn't providing the right wing with a minute and a half of youtube fodder.

So the xenophobic, gun-owning, blue collar, anything-but-bitter set got more infighting with the Dems. And she still clings to Michigan and Florida when saying that she has the lead in popular votes!?

Seriously?

Obama wasn't on the ballot in Michigan and didn't campaign in Florida. Either of those cases being different and I'm sure he would have had a better showing.

I've heard Clinton supporters say that if HRC doesn't get the nomination, they'll vote for McCain. I don't find either to be acceptable choices. Clinton's supposed to be on my side (i.e., the left), but I don't see it. And of all the lying candidates, she's been proven to be the lying-est. At least I can believe John McCain's words and actions will be somewhat consistent... unfortunately, he's wrong and dangerous.

It's clear there is no choice if the "choice" is between Clinton and McCain.

Ugh. Eff Pennsylvania.

Sick

2008-03-28T17:13:00.000-07:00

We've been short-handed all week at work, so we're falling behind, but I couldn't do it anymore... I left a couple of hours early to let my sinuses push outward at home. Headache, fever, coughing... the current trifecta. Looking forward to this ride.

In other news, spring has sprung. And it actually kind of snowed its ass off in Portland. Aparently the latest in the year ever on record. Not enough, or cold enough, to shut anything down, but novel...

ugh.

It was five years ago today

2008-03-19T19:50:00.000-07:00

Denver was buried under a few feet of snow in a blizzard that shut the city down for a few days. The restaurant that I worked at through college and a couple of years beyond was open, though. Cabin fever, hunger, and beer inspired me to traverse the white landscape and walk to Reiver's. When I arrived, Reiver's was hopping, having a record day since few places were open, and not having to work the following day was a foregone conclusion for many. I had eaten my dinner and was working on a beer when the music was abruptly shut off and the TVs were turned up. George W. Bush occupied the screens, one American flag on his lapel, another behind a picture of his daughters. He began:

My fellow citizens, at this hour, American and coalition forces are in the early stages of military operations to disarm Iraq, to free its people, and to defend the world from grave danger.

On my orders, coalition forces have begun striking selected targets of military importance to undermine Saddam Hussein's ability to wage war... (read the rest of the speech here)

The bar erupted in cheers. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. I knew I was right, Bush was wrong, and that the lead-up to war was a lie. Admittedly, I had come to believe that Iraq posessed WMD, which turned out to be false, but I knew that they posed no imminent threat to American security. I also knew that Iraq had nothing to do with the attacks of 9/11/01, a pairing Bush liked to make every chance he got. And ultimately, I knew that the war had begun, I was powerless against the machinations of war, and that being right was no comfort when the only certainties in the future were Iraqi civilian and American military deaths. I had no idea how many it would turn out to be, but one death is too many when predicated on a web of lies.

But the propaganda was well orchestrated and disseminated; so much so that there I was, sitting alone in a crowded bar that was electric with blood lust. Someone had to pay for 9/11, regardless of actual, you know, involvement.

So five years on and no end in sight. Baghdad is a dangerous, broken shell of the grand city it once was. Clean drinking water is a hot commodity, and electricity is available roughly one-quarter of the time. Nearly 4,000 American soldiers have died, and almost the same number of American children are being raised with one less parent due to this misguided, unnecessary war. At the same time, CBS news reported tonight that over 85,000 Iraqi civilians have died. While I'm sure that number is conservative, even if it isn't, what a heart wrenching number to ponder. Eighty-five thousand! Entire families wiped out; mothers, fathers, sons and daughters, cousins, aunts and uncles. And for what?

Thousands or millions have been displaced, moved out of their homes, neighborhoods, cities, and homeland. Fleeing the violence and lawlessness America unleashed on them in the name of "liberty", to Jordan, Syria, the EU, and some to the United States. Sunnis, Shiites and Kurds, who had a fragile truce under Saddam are now killing each other in droves when they aren't being adequately policed by American military forces.

"But the surge is working!"

Is it? Is it really? I suppose if you base your historical perspective on a year-to-year basis, yes, it is. Violence is down from a year ago. Bravo. The civil war is no longer boiling, just simmering. There's still violence, just not as much.

And in the process, we've become torturers, rapists, murderers--all things George Bush derided Saddam Hussein and his sons for being. No, I haven't raped, tortured, or murdered any Iraqis with my own hands, but my government has generously done so in my absentia. Money has been taken out of American schools and the American economy to wage this war. Money has been taken out of the future of this country, and I still don't know what constitutes victory. Victory has been a moving, morphing goal from the outset--WMD, Democracy, Liberty, Saddam was a bad man. Now we're doing a good job when we aren't doing a bad job; our expectations have gotten so low that our former hope for a better, more prosperous beacon of liberty and Democracy in the Middle East has become, "well, it's not technically a civil war."

And yet, the victory drums beat on.

Five years on, and I'm still against this war. Five years later and I'm still powerless to reverse this tide. Five years have passed since I sat in that bar on that snowy day in Denver, and I would love to have been on the wrong side of the war debate this whole time. I would love to wake up tomorrow to Iraq being a democratic beacon of hope in the Middle East. I would love to be able to remember the Iraqis 'greeting us as liberators'. But the events of the past five years will not be silenced by pipe dreams, wishful thinking, and delusions. The events of the past five years, the nightmare that we can't seem to wake up from, happened whether we like it or not. This nightmare must end... we must end this war. The path to defeat is the one we've been on since March 19, 2003. We must change course drastically, immediately, and completely.

Ugh

2008-03-18T23:49:00.000-07:00

I have adamently stated (repeatedly) that I won't change my party affiliation to Democrat in order to vote in the primary, but in order to vote for Obama?...

He showed cajones today; nuance, depth, and truth in the face of adversity.

But, seriously, I'm not a Democrat. What to do, what to do?

I have until April 29 to decide...

Consumer corner

2008-03-16T23:33:00.000-07:00

I got my taxes back, and while most of the dough is going towards debt, I've had my eye on a couple of things. I got a Beatles A-I guitar chord book. It is awesome, and I can't wait until I can justify getting J-Y, but A-I should keep me busy for a while.

I also got this:

The Lexicon Omega--OMG, I've been drooling over this thing ever since I heard about it. From the sounds of it, it's very user friendly and intuitive. A friend has offered to loan me a mic for vocals (and for recording the classical), but in the interim my acoustic is acoustic/electric, so I can plug it right in.

I have no idea what it's going to do for my music, but it can't hurt. Plus, it's teh awesome. I guess I've got to make some music in the coming days, months and years. If I come up with something nice, I'll share, but don't hold your breath.

Anyway, peace out. I'm gonna go to bed, work, then play with my new toys.

Oh, why the hell not?

2008-03-15T15:11:00.000-07:00

a politics post...

Despite the inherent flaws of the corporate duopoly that's in place, I've been following the Democratic race closely (perhaps a little too closely?). I'll be upfront from the get-go that-surprise, surprise-I support Obama out of the two remaining candidates. I don't have any illusions that he'd make a perfect president, or that he'd make all of our woes go away with the waving of some magic wand. I just think that his strengths (creating unity, getting out an enthusiastic youth vote, creating a vague sense of hope in thousands or millions, etc.) outshine Clinton's claimed strengths (experience, toughness). While, admittedly, I'm skeptical about her strengths, I have to say that her weaknesses are quite troubling. She's divisive, and would inspire the right to vote against her more than the left to vote for her. She says she can beat McCain because of toughness, but I think Obama can beat McCain based on message and excitement.

The previous paragraph was in the interest of full disclosure. Now for what I really want to say.

the question of re-vote in fla. and mich.

It would be wrong to re-vote in Florida and Michigan. Not because Obama "lost", or Clinton "won" the first time around, but because before they changed the dates of their primaries, the Democrats said they'd strip them of their delegates. They changed the dates anyway. Anybody voting in those primaries should have known that their votes would not be counted and that they were exercising futility by going to the ballot box (some would say it's futile to vote at all in this system, but that's another post).

So they should have another chance, in a later primary, to have their votes counted, the argument goes. This doesn't fly for me. Not just because Obama "didn't win" (he wasn't even on the ballot in one, and did no campaigning in either). It's for two reasons, one that should appeal strongly to Democrats, and the other that should appeal to anyone, but especially parents or anyone with even a remote understanding of Psychology.

1) For the Dems.: a re-vote should not happen because that changes the rules in the middle of the game, something Dems. should be mindful of, particularly after the debacle in Florida in 2000.

2) For everyone: a re-vote shouldn't be aloud because Michigan and Florida were told in the first place there'd be consequences if they moved up the dates of their primaries. They did it anyway. Now that it might "affect" the outcome, the DNC (DLC?) is trying to come up with ways of giving them back their delegates. This is analogous to Parenting 101: hollow threats don't teach children to obey their parents. Whether it's beneficial in the moment to show leniency to one's child, the message it sends is that the rules are flexible if mom or dad can justify it later on. Parents should be open to debate, but once they make a rule, they need to be steadfast about the consequences. The Democrats said not before such-and-such date, and need to stick to that. Or the message becomes, don't listen to our edicts, we can always change them if it serves our selfish interests.

They probably shouldn't have stripped these states of their delegates in the first place, but that's hindsight. It has bitten them in the ass, but fairness (that oh-so-Democratic value) dictates that they lay in the bed they made.

Look, I'm not registered as a Democrat in Oregon, and it looks like Oregon will play a role in the convention and the selection of a candidate. Oregon does a closed primary. Therefore, I won't be voting in Oregon's primary. That's the rule, and I'm fine with it. If it gives Clinton a rise in delegate numbers, so be it. But I won't compromise my independence. It's a rule I've made for myself, and one I live by. The Democrats need to follow the rules they make, or deal with the accusations of hypocrisy that will inevitably hit the mark.

That said, whatever happens, I'll have my say in November. For what it's worth.

putting the log back in blog

2008-03-10T21:59:00.000-07:00

the plague seems to have reached my office with a vengence. I'm doing my part, drinking lots of whiskey to stave off certain death (for the time being), but the odds are stacked against me. I think I'll request SARS masks for the department (I hear the office has some left over from that period of doom and gloom a few years back--keeps the hypochondriac at bay; the purell in every corner of the building also helps).

two down, three to go. I started having coughing fits on Friday night. I took some precautionary meds and felt fine Saturday. But first, co-worker S was out for most of last week, and now supervisor T took off mid-day. co-workers M and C seemed alright; keeping a stiff upper lip like the troopers they are. but the fear is palpable, and I palp it.

the above is bullshit, except for the part where all my co-workers are coming down with the plague (ok, the flu).

I've been trying to write a song, lately, about meeting a girl at a bus stop in front of a strip club, but it's slow going. it may be that I'm trying to write a fiction, and I've heard you should write what you know. not that I'm going to stake out the bus stop in front of Sassy's... that's too creepy for words... and perhaps I'm going at it too much like a love song, a ballad if you will, and less as an example of my wit. it's just that the music is totally like "Earth Angel" or "Oh, Donna", so it really makes me want to do it as a love song.

eh, what do I know about love...

Once more, write what you know.

So I guess I can write a song about a guy who goes to the grocery store for some supplies, and gets a 6-pack of Newcastle for old time's sake. perhaps it reminds me (er, him) of a friend I (he) haven't (hasn't) seen in a while. even though Oregon has a wild and storied tradition of micro-brewed, malty, hoppy refreshment, the import just seemed right.

I woke up late yesterday. even later than anticipated since daylight saving sprung me forward an hour. so sleep wasn't really a reasonable goal at any decent hour. the only thing harder than going to bed was getting up from it. co-worker C said I looked like I was ready for bed at about 4 this afternoon. I said I woke up ready for bed. good times...

well, guess that's all for now. back to writing my bus stop love song...

briefly

2007-12-26T20:22:00.000-08:00

A Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all out in Blogland. I got your cards and well-wishes and would like to wish you all great things in the New Year. Blogging hasn't been a high enough priority for me, and I hope to change that in the coming weeks. We'll just have to see if I can line all the ducks up just right.

Peace to those of you in the east...

Built to Spill Friday, Low Saturday, Blog Sunday

2007-09-23T18:10:00.000-07:00

Built to Spill played at the Crystal Ballroom, with Camper Van Beethoven opening. It was good, though the Crystal is situated atop a dance club, so between numbers there was an annoying thumping from below. Turns out I'm not a big fan of the Crystal...

Low at the Doug Fir:

Low played an amazing set, mixing the old with the new, and they seemed happy to be there. The new bassist doesn't give the audience a view of his behind as Zak Sally used to, but he has the musical patience to continue in Sally's tradition of minimally complimenting Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker's sparse, open compositions, allowing the music to flow majestically through the air and into the ears and consciousnesses of the listeners. It was truly a sight to behold. Low was comfortable on stage, and they've matured well. When I saw them play in support of The Great Destroyer album, Sparhawk was visibly wired and agitated, and there was a sense that it could all unravel at any minute. This time he was comfortable onstage, joking with the audience, and he just seemed to be enjoying himself.

The audience was very receptive. I've gotten used to listening to Low under the obnoxious hum of hundreds of competing conversations. It's something I've come to expect. But Low at the Doug Fir had none of that. The appreciation and understanding of the audience was noted and appreciated. I did hear people telling others to be quiet, but the people-who-like-to-pay-to-go-somewhere-and-talk were in the minority.

EPILOGUE

*Deleted due to the deafening sound of crickets*

Leomange in Denver, Part 3 (I left my hoodie in Colorado)

2007-09-10T20:30:00.000-07:00

Butler was heading back to Winter Park when I got into AJ's car to hang out for a bit. It was when we got back to his house that I realized my hoodie was in Butler's backseat. I had thrown it back there when it got toasty on the way down the mountain. Not a huge deal, but explitive-worthy. Sh--.

I went to Breckenridge for the afternoon with the mother, where I saw an old friend randomly--he was on his phone on his lunch hour on the sidewalk across the street from where we were having lunch. It was a brief encounter. It was cool.

Happy hour.

Benny's.

Happy hour.

Missed Mo. She couldn't make it up from Fountain til the evening, making our lunch plans too early for her. My evening was booked. It was my last night in town. It's too bad, but that's how life goes sometimes. It's ok, though, because I'm not used to that much companionship and I needed some down time to be by myself, to reflect. I went to the Art Museum. A new addition opened up right after I moved away, or some time around then, so I wanted to see what they had been building as I was preparing to move. It was on my walk to work (in the old days), so I was able to watch the building of it progress. It was pretty cool. The two exhibits that stood out were by some guy named Still and some guy named Bayer. But more of what struck me was the angle of the walls. Walls that angle away from you have a way of creating a bit of vertigo, or at least some dizzyness. It wasn't overwhelming, but it took me by surprise, and a couple of times I had to hold on to the railing; like when looking out at the stairwells that surrounded some empty space. And on the angled walls of the stairwells were blue digital numbers that shimmered in the soft light. Not Escher surreal, but pretty damn cool to be immersed in.

Then I met my brother for coffee and had dinner with the family. I stayed in Lakewood with my brother (the middle one of the three of us). My oldest brother returned the classical guitar that he held on for safe keeping. It was dirty... but he had fairly recently restrung it with some expensive strings. The tone is better than I remember. In fact, the tone is awesome. I've had this guitar since my thirteenth birthday. I know he was disappointed to be returning it, but he knows I appreciate it.

EPILOGUE

A dog missed it's connecting flight, delaying us by half an hour as the airline and the airport tried to recover the pooch. It was lost at DIA and its owner was asked to get off the plane so the rest of us could get going while what happened was figured out.

The Cascades and Mount Hood marked my return home. Well, actually I saw Mount Bachelor first, I think.

After getting home and eating, I took a nap. An hour later I awoke to my neighbor and her friends carrying on loudly in the parking lot. The perfect catnap to start my night.

I saw Damien Jurado play Music Fest NW at Berbati's Pan. It was good. Eric Fisher (of Jurado's band) told me they are working on releasing another CD in the spring, so another tour should be in the works soon. One of my neighbors convinced me to stick around for that night's headliners, Okkervil River (or something like that), and I made it through 4 or 5 songs. The singer arrived on stage stumbling drunk and the band just wasn't that tight. I don't particularly blame them since it was after midnight when they went on, but I can see drunken hipsters all over this town--no need to pay to see them.

I went home, slept, and played my classical all day Sunday. My boss' last day was today. Still no word on his replacement. Life goes on, so it goes, who knows what the future holds...

Leomange in Denver, Part 2 (reacquaintance and recovery)

2007-09-04T13:24:00.000-07:00

Helskel hosted a party at his place. I saw many of my old friends and met H's apostrophe, Val. By the end of the night, I broke my vow of avoiding the shots, but the two-fisted drinking (i.e., a water back all night long) persisted, making the following morning not so bad.

Not that I was bright-eyed or anything else that would follow a sober night and a good night's sleep, but it could've been much worse.

I had Watercourse again, this time for breakfast (tried the Mercury Cafe, but they were closed). Four words: Banana Bread French Toast. Butler had something with sweet potato home fries (mixed with feta and olives and capers). As expensive as the place now seems, it's worth it. O. M. G.

Tone gave me a CD of his band, The Anti-Glacier Movement, playing at the Larimer Lounge a couple of weeks back. They are worth checking out (you can find them on MySpace). My neighbors in Portland will soon be hearing them heavily in my rotation.

Then I rode up to Winter Park where Butler has lived for the past 4 days (and where I'm writing from right now). Colorado is a lot greener than I remember, but still less than I'm used to. I hear they've been getting more of the semi-arid part of the semi-arid desert description that this part of the country is known for.

I think I'm mostly re-acclimated to this climate/altitude. I'm getting winded in Winter Park (8-9,000 ft), but that should make it easier when I return to a mile high this evening.

Leomange in Denver, part 1 (the trip)

2007-09-01T22:37:00.000-07:00

the night before was long, and the sleep was short. the justification was that the missed sleep could be made up for on the plane.

I awoke with pain between the ears. I had to get moving so I could leave home to return to my old home and stay for a week, only to return home once more. Shower, coffee, pack the last bits, play the tune I figured out earlier in the week one more time on guitar, and try not to forget anything.

I got to the bus stop and saw a spent banana peel. I could really use my last banana right about now, but it's still on the fridge. It'll still be on the fridge when I get home, though a bit crispier and quite a bit darker. Shoot.

Heard an altercation between two people with differing views on whether or not one should be allowed to park in front of a driveway. The one in the wrong escalated the exchange to a shouted "fuck you!" There was a bit more, but it didn't come to blows.

Rode the bus, got off the bus, transferred to the Max ("Lightrail" to the Portland-lingo-impaired).

As I was boarding the Max, I walked in front of a homeless guy who had some words to say. Eventually I turned to see that apparently he was talking to me. I didn't get every word, but as it turns out, he thinks I'm a "four-eyed motherfucker." Fair enough. I told him I was sorry he felt that way and got on the train...

By the time I got to the airport, fatigue was second only to headache in my feelings. I checked in and bought a sandwich, banana (could've, should've, would've been a redundant purchase!), and a coffee. I ate and felt better, then went to security. Apparently coffee is still on the list of no-no's in the airport security game. Downed as much as I could before going through security, but most of the coffee was wasted. When I reached my gate I streched out over four seats and read my magazine. Eventually the headache was kickin', so I picked up some Advil. I got back to the gate and they were boarding my plane.

I shared my row with Amelia, a student from Mexico who's working on her degree in saving a small part of the world. We talked about art and culture and what brought us both to the current moment. She must be over ten years younger than I, but she's far more travelled. I was about to say more experienced, but that would be an unfair deprecation of my experience. Mine may not be quite as varied, but it's just as valid. But asides aside.

I said goodbye to her at baggage claim, and said it was nice to have met her. And it was. Those who've seen (or read) Fight Club know the concept of single serving friends. I mean no disrespect calling her such, but I think that's the case.

Dinner was had at Watercourse with my mother and brothers. The restaurant moved, and they gussied up the place and raised their prices, but at least the food was still delicious. Though I miss the old and funky. It's much more Denver now, as, I guess, it used to be more Portland... though I hadn't seen it that way before.

I definitely think my mother is crazy, but I love her anyway, in spite of, and because of that. And I was struck by how similar I am to my brothers (or they are to me... perspective is a slippery thing as the youngest). When you live so close together, you focus on the differences. When you go away for a while, the similarities are much more pronounced.

Now I sit here alone in my mother's apartment, and it's time for bed. It's been a long day--please forgive any errors my usual proofreading would have caught. I'm too tired to polish this one...

Leomange in Springfield

2007-08-01T20:47:00.000-07:00

my brain is still restless

2007-06-25T21:15:00.000-07:00

my brain is still restless, but longs for stillness, i'm exactly where i want to be. i camped on the coast on friday, woke up in a tent in puddles earlier than i had hoped. i walked solo on the beach, just me and my guitar, singing for no one, playing for no one. i was anti-social. i hung out a while longer, a week's lack of sleep catching up and doing its thing with my psyche. eventually, i hit the road and returned home for little more reason than that that was the plan.

my stuff in a pile on the living room floor, i made myself a massive sandwich. mountains were made in my head out of the anthills of my experience, and i knew my thoughts were being over-dramatic. but i was too tired to change course. i ate my sandwich and before long woke up on my couch. i made it to my bed to sleep the night away.

when i awoke, i was greeted by a near-constant rain. i made eggs and toast and sausage, called joel, and though he was the hungover one, i was the bummer.

i went to a movie in the afternoon. two other people in close proximity to me were there alone. one was a girl with a betty page haircut who smelled vaguely of an ex; she wore the same perfume, or bathed with the same soap. but while i associate negativity with the ex in question, the betty page girl wore it well, and the mix with her chemistry made my thoughts drift occasionally during the movie. i left the theater before she got up, giving chance and possibility the finger on the way out. it's how i roll.

i believe i've passed my melancholic state for the moment. still a little mentally hungover, but the fog seems to be lifting. my brain is still restless, though i long for stillness. i wear that paradox proudly on my sleeve.

brief update

2007-06-14T21:23:00.000-07:00

i'm drinking an italian soda in a coffee shop after drinking some whisky and some beer. it's a bit of a shift in gears, but i haven't yet set up internet at the house.

anyway, i had some visitors from out of town last weekend, which was nice. drank whisky, ate seafood, went to the coast. and it was just good to hang out with someone with whom i have a fair amount of history.

my week has been ... pretty crap so far. if i weren't so level-headed (ha!), i probably wouldn't have a job anymore. my boss lost a lot of respect in my eyes, but i'm still employed (gotta pay rent somehow)... fucker...

reading siddhartha again. good stuff again. that's all i have to say about that.

peace.

The new apartment

2007-05-15T22:07:00.000-07:00

I sign a lease tomorrow on an apartment that will make me cash poor for a moment, but that I think will be worth it. Space to read, cleanliness or messiness of my own will, and only half furnished to begin with... room to grow.

My paychecks will be sixty dollars bigger per month because I estimate it's about a 45-minute walk to work, through nice neighborhoods and the industrial section, and across the river (the return trip is 'over the river and through the hoods'!). In theory I'll be in an area supplied with free to twenty dollar wi-fi (pay to not have ads), but we'll see how that works in practice.

I got the call coming home from the grocery store. It's a call I've been waiting for all day. I've been holding myself back from calling him since I got up this morning. Trying not to be overbearing since I've already been verbose via e-mail to the poor guy... but apparently I pled my case well, because I got the place.

I pretty much hate looking for apartments and hope this is the last time for awhile. Here's a taste of what I went through:

APT 1
Went to look at a place across the river... well, two places in the same complex. The expensive one with the nice view didn't impress me, the less expensive one had charm and a patio. This place is in the neighborhood of some friends of a friend who I consider friends (not really close, but good people). They've had some issues with the landlord who happens to be a registered sex offender. He got one of his female tenants to give him oral sex when she had trouble making rent. There being two sides to every story, he's also something of a philanthropist in the Iranian-American community, and some female tenants testified on his behalf, but the police report left me feeling kind of sick. The apartment was cool, and I would've gotten it if I could've stayed ignorant, but I couldn't give him my money in good conscience knowing what I do.

APT 2
Too big. A nice place with seemingly good landlords, but a place that would need lots of stuff to fill. I downsized pretty dramatically when I left Denver, and that place would echo for months after I moved in.

APT 3
Very nice, charming place that's got the same layout as APT 1, but nicer and with vaulted ceilings. Even had one of those cool half-dishwashers that aren't overdoing it for a bachelor. Problem: only about ten feet and a concrete wall separated it from the interstate. Fine with the windows closed, but...

APT 4
Funky. The mail slot emptied into the bathroom. The refrigerator stood at an angle due to the kitchen floor being less-than-level. Kind of cool in a way, but not so much.

APT 5
Second floor apt in a very nice house in a very nice neighborhood with a nice 60-year-old lady inhabiting the main floor. Shared kitchen and laundry room, patio all to myself, she had some extra furniture to fill the living room. Moving in would require big things such as my boxspring to be hoisted up over the patio. Kind of low-ceilinged. So close, to be quite honest, but yet so far. I had to list the good and the bad, and the good outweighed the bad, but it didn't feel right. I think it was a generational thing, combined with the fact that the house was too nice--I didn't want to f-- anything up.

Anyway, there were some others, but those were the highlights. The one I got has a cool retro oven, a patio, a washer/dryer in the unit, and only shares a wall with one neighbor. The current tenant showed me the place, as well as several other people, and for some reason called the landlord after I left and said I'd be a good fit (with the neighbors). The landlord didn't know what that meant, and, frankly, neither do I, but it could mean that I'm about to have my own Melrose Place-type scenario. I never watched that show, so I don't know what I'm in for. Knowing Fox, I'm sure it wasn't too dramatic! Time will tell.

Stay tuned...

today we mourn the passing of a great man

2007-05-03T13:38:00.000-07:00

r.i.p. herbert kornfeld

i didn't make it out tonight...

2007-04-29T02:14:00.000-07:00

but i did watch "the breakfast club" and play some guitar.

walked the trail at eagle creek today. headed up to multnomah falls, but it was too crowded and there was nowhere to park, so i went to the next attraction on the highway. eagle creek. ben was with me. ben is a graphic artist. i would tell you about his new idea but it hasn't been copyrighted yet. the world could possibly change as a result of it; or maybe not--only time will tell.

the trail was thin, the sights were beautiful, and it was a good day for a hike. well, not for this guy. his fall was an eerie thing to be around and we were helpless to do anything more than look on and hope he was ok. i didn't see him fall, but i saw where he fell from. he was lucky not to have died... poor guy.

the talk of the trail. so it goes (thank you Mr. Vonnegut).

gas is expensive. ten dollars brought me from the gas light being on to less than a quarter of a tank. yikes.

Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. died last week. he left a great legacy, in his books, which he shared with the rest of us, and in his personal life--which he shared with the rest of us. there've been some good tributes written about him.

i saw an amazing interview between bill moyers and jon stewart on opb. ...

yah, g'night.

Rise to a new Low

2007-03-25T02:18:00.001-07:00

i'll admit it, i love Low. from the first time i saw them, opening for Soul Coughing back in '95 or '96, i've been an avid collector of their music and have seen them live whenever i could. unfortunately, the last two albums have seemed like a slide for them. Trust never really grabbed me, and The Great Destroyer left me thinking, "huh?" there are great tracks on both, notably, "When I Go Deaf" on Destroyer; but where Trust seemed to be almost formulaic, Destroyer was too much of a departure.

but it all makes sense now.

i was convinced that losing Zak Sally on bass after Destroyer was the beginning of the end. his ability to fill the spaces left by Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker without losing patience seemed a hard thing to replace. but now it seems that Trust was the rut, and Destroyer was the failed attempt at getting out of that rut. i'm not blaming Sally for Low's problems; i think it was probably just familiarity and comfort on all parties' parts that led to under- and then over-compensation.

but now, with Matt Livingston on bass, Low seems revitalized and there's an interesting mixture of departure and returning home that permeates the new Drums and Guns. more keys and drum machine beats make the album, at times, feel like dance music, but it keeps Low's minimalist flavor. "Hatchet" is a fine example. there are some extra layers previously untapped, and they are unafraid to get a little funky with their guitar and bass, complementing musically while paying homage to rivalries past. "let's bury the hatchet like the beatles and the stones..."

thematically, Low is dealing with newness and the pain of losing the old. this is definitely their most overtly political album, decrying violence, while recognizing that no one is entirely innocent. we all have blood on our hands. but that doesn't mean we shouldn't make our voices heard. this album is on topic and a product of today. "Murderer" is a great example--"one more thing before i go/one more thing i'll ask you lord/you made me a murderer/someone to do your dirty work."

but this album doesn't exactly rock, and that's a welcome return. "Take Your Time" is an excellent example: mellow, open and larger than life, it's the Low that i love; but with a piano part that i couldn't imagine on previous albums blending seamlessly on this one. now that i think about it, it reminds me of Radiohead's "Sit Down, Stand Up," but without breaking character--it's like Radiohead, but it's unmistakably Low.

"Violent Past" was an interesting choice for a final song. this album, and the songs on it, are too short for my liking, and this song leaves the listener wanting more--but perhaps that was by design. it's like they ended the album midway through. on the first few listens i've been wondering "where's the rest of it?" but based on the new line-up's first creation, the wait to see where they go next should be worth it.

in the mean time, i'll just look forward to their dates at the doug fir (my current favorite venue in Portland) in June. now to decide which date i go to, if not both...

Kristin Hersh, Music Millenium, Portland

2007-02-21T23:03:00.000-08:00

her husband (or someone who i'm 90% sure is her husband) introduced her after "tuning" her guitar. he said she'd be back with a band and a proper show in mid- to late-may. he said the in-stores were a promotional tour.

she strummed a chord after getting on stage. "this sounds funky, and not in a good way," she said and re-tuned. the short set was over half from the new album, drumming up interest, engaging in the need to sell one's art in order to live off it.

i got there at quarter til, early enough to get close, but late enough to miss a seat in the couches in front of the stage. by the end of the show i looked around and saw that i was quite close, relatively speaking, to the stage. it was a small crowd, but clearly we were the dedicated few. there was one guy spastically dancing, one girl bopping around, and the lesbians, several months later, who i remember making out at the jimmy maks show back in august or september; the affectionate display was less pornographic this time.

when she played "gazebo tree" (which, unless i've got the songs confused, is based on a conversation she had on a bus in chicago) i harkened back to when i figured out "close your eyes" on guitar--i still lived with my mother, and i'm pretty sure my rendition at the time bordered on torture (sorry, mom). she didn't play "close your eyes", but she ended on "your ghost"--i had to restrain myself from filling in the michael stipe backing vocals from the album (you're welcome in-store crowd!).

she played "your dirty answer", introducing it as off of sunny border blue, to which an audience member hooted. "ahh, so you're the one who bought it," kristin quipped. "i have it, too, but i didn't have to pay for it."

and, hence, the promotional tour. pimping the new cd ($12.99 on sale now at music millenium!!!) to an audience who apparently has become somewhat indifferent. they played tracks from the new cd before and after the show, and it's good. i'll get it soon for sure, but my dough is all tied up in food and rent at the moment (you know, futures (and a little presents)). and looking forward to when i do get it, i should be good and ready to torture my roommate with some new kh tracks having seen her play some of them live already.

as an afterthought, i really should've taken her up on her offer of signing my (or anyone's) nipples. oh well, next time, i guess...

Sparklehorse, Wonder Ballroom, Portland, OR, USA

2007-02-13T23:58:00.000-08:00

it was a good show, it wasn't a great show. lots of little things could've made it better, but mostly just a few more songs. i've waited a long time to see them play for an hour (including the encore). and the shocker is, it was heavily weighted on the first record, which should've been a good thing, but ended up being problematic. i love vivadixiesubmarinetransmissionplot, don't get me wrong, but it seemed like they were intentionally playing songs that most of the audience didn't know. which kept their energy low, which gave the band less to feed off of, who gave the audience less to feed off of.

there were highlights, too. the transition from studio to stage was interesting to witness. linkous does so many weird, choppy changes in the studio that it was cool to see how it translated. there were several instances where i could tell everyone was just following/trying to keep up, and that sort of tension can be cool. drums filling until the beat becomes apparent, different leads bobbing and weaving until the tension breaks and the resolution flows.

and ending on the most beautiful widow wasn't a bad idea (though the audience talking through it was an... interesting... touch).

in all, it was a good show with a less-than-stellar audience and some questionable choices. add to that the soundguy's obvious lack of experience or skill, and i guess it was better than should've been expected. i'll be happy to see them again because what they can fix i think they will. and what was out of their control i won't hold against them.

a twenty-year old girl hit on me at a swimming pool

2007-02-03T12:19:00.000-08:00

She was cute, but obviously young. She said, "I don't normally do this, but..." She was cute and mulatto and had a youthful spatter of acne. I asked how old she was and she replied "twenty." I was flattered, but no.

It was a dream...

dreamscapes v. 1.0

2007-02-03T11:51:00.000-08:00

I was in the grocery store close to closing. I was looking for soup and deodorant.

This dream closely followed a dream where I watched as others cooked some food and Lindsey (Helskel's friend and mine) had a Sci-Fi radio show. "Aah, now I see the connection," I said.

Anyway, I was at the grocery store looking for soup and deodorant. I had an open PBR in my hand and another closed one to purchase. I couldn't find my brand of deodorant, so I tried to smell the Degree--I couldn't. They turned off the music to indicate the store was about to close (a la "last call"). There were two lanes open, both of which had long lines. I get into one of them and realize I don't have my purchases, but I do have a bag with a long box that resembles a box of some-assembly-required furniture/shelving. Am I returning it? I guess so. But I don't have my soup, so I go back to the aisle and see the soup on the floor (Campbell's Vegetable, low sodium soup, just to be specific), and the unopened PBR is next to it, but the PBR is neither standing straight up, nor is it on its side. It's at about a 60-70 degree angle. I pick up the beer and the soup and decide I'll wait on the deodorant until I can find my brand, reasoning that I have enough to get through tomorrow.

I head back to the checkout line with the cans and the bag with the box of what may be shelving, but before I get back in line I'm walking down a dark street lit by a full moon. It's a beautiful night, and the grass on the side of the road makes an impression. But I didn't pay for my purchases... I must be in a dream, I think to myself, and jerk my body forward in an attempt to wake up. I'd hate to be sleeping in the middle of the aisle at the Fred Meyer. My attempts to wake up are to no avail, but the night is nice. I lie on the grass and look at the moon. I feel myself getting tired, and figure the worst that can happen is that I'll wake up at the grocery store, but I'll probably just get some shut-eye. The last things I see as I go to sleep are my legs and feet framed by the grass with the black asphalt of the street behind the grass. The moon lights my dimming view.

I wake up.

brainy internet quiz time

2007-02-01T22:14:00.000-08:00

One of the letters has changed since college, but it's still pretty accurate. Thanks to Helskel for the post idea...

I am an...

INFJ - "Author". Strong drive and enjoyment to help others. Complex personality. 1.5% of total population.

Free Jung Personality Test (similar to Myers-Briggs/MBTI)

What are you?

post #50

2007-01-30T22:00:00.000-08:00

blogger claims this is my fiftieth post. my how the hits keep coming...

i wish i knew what i wanted. it would make getting it that much easier.

an interesting couple of days at work have left me drained and in need of written release. so here goes: no matter how good work is, it still sucks; i can always find better things to do with my time. but i've got a good gig going for the most part. sure, the job has its monotony, but it's got good people that i get along with. henry ford showed us that we work really efficiently with repetitious tasks, therefore it's nearly impossible to see a task through from start to finish. so as cogs in the machine go, i'm a pretty happy cog. decent pay, interesting co-workers, and tasks that are sometimes almost vaguely challenging (in a tedious sorta way).

i realized today, though, that i've been working too hard for my position, and in the process have been wasting some time while falling behind. apparently it was noticed, but taken as slowness--turns out i didn't know what was expected of me so i erred on the overworking side.

oh well.

i had a dream last night...

after the crisis and a portion of the resolution (more resolved as of this morning) i dreamed of myself in a basement brewing coffee. the coffee filter cup overflowed and i went to get a towel to clean it up but got distracted.

apparently from the dream defining sources (yes, plural), coffee denotes social stuff and i can't find the other aspects. overflow could be greatness, but the mess aspect... i don't know. can't seem to come to terms with it, but it's happened in real life, and i've actually had variations on this dream before. but i don't remember what was going on in my life when the variations happened. i... don't... know...

i'm tired. if i could get to work earlier i could have longer lunches, which would do wonders for my sanity. i don't need a siesta, but actual relaxation with lunch would be nice. plus, i have a couple books i'm working on. i could stand to read them.

happy fiftieth post everybody. here's to fifty more (in less time hopefully).

Snow Day!

2007-01-16T15:48:00.000-08:00

All the fun of a snow day without the, you know, actual heavy accumulation.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a snow midget to build...

post

2007-01-12T00:33:00.000-08:00

hola amigos,
i know it's been awhile since i rapped at ya. but it's been crazy followed by nuts here at casa de mange...

i'm up past my bedtime, but that's due to some serious napping that happened tonight. not sure what that was about. i slept plenty last night, and had a late office opening due to "inclement weather." my neighborhood had a dusting of snow, but i suppose many people live at higher elevations where the snow and ice was more severe. anyway, i took advantage of one of the two hours because free time is cool, but i haven't been there long enough to be compensated with sick time or what not... and to be quite honest, i got bored. like i said to my co-workers who took full advantage of the two hours, "i don't have any pets or significant others to keep me entertained." and i would've gone in at my regular time had i not been call by my boss letting me know we had a 2-hour delay (which i believed but had to check for myself since my neighborhood looked like any other morning).

bush talked last night, but i didn't see it. i'm not sure exactly what time he did it, but i was either commuting home or walking up mount tabor when he spoke. i tried to read the transcript at work but the magic wasn't there. first, the media already leaked the big surprise--we're changing course in iraq from too many to too many more. and secondly, my eyes glazed over about halfway through. i like to be informed in my life, and especially when i criticize the chimp, but apparently i just don't care enough now. i still plan to watch the state of the union--perhaps that'll inspire more angst or scheudenfreude, but we'll just have to see i guess...

my coworker told me that the minimum wage increase was voted basically down party lines, which i tried to confirm with google, but teh internets seems to have made google less efficient. anyway, if anyone could give a link to the roll call on that that'd be cool. regardless, if the republican minority really did vote overwhelmingly against an increase in the minimum wage then i must thank them for distancing themselves further from american popular opinion. not that i'm a staunch democrat, or at all comforted by our "two-party" system, but lesser-of-two-evilism requires a lesser of the two evils.

well, that's it for now. i guess i'll read something or watch some crappy tv and hopefully go to sleep soon.

Vonnegut's elongated shadow cast by the winter sun

2007-01-04T22:04:00.000-08:00

Excerpt from Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.'s introduction to God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian.

"OK, now let's have some fun. Let's talk about sex. Let's talk about women. Freud said he didn't know what women wanted. I know what women want. They want a whole lot of people to talk to. What do they want to talk about? They want to talk about everything.

What do men want? They want a lot of pals, and they wish people wouldn't get so mad at them.

Why are so many people getting divorced today. It's because most of us don't have extended families anymore. It used to be that when a man and a woman got married, the bride got a lot more people to talk to about everything. The groom got a lot more pals to tell dumb jokes to.

A few Americans, but very few, still have extended families. The Navahoes. The Kennedys.

But most of us, if we get married nowadays, are just one more person for the other person. The groom gets one more pal, but it's a woman. The woman gets one more person to talk to about everything, but it's a man.

When a couple has an argument, they may think it's about money or power or sex, or how to raise the kids, or whatever. What they're really saying to each other, though, without realizing it, is this:

'You are not enough people.'"

it occurs to me that there are a lot of not-enough-peoples out there. i read the above lines at a pizza place where i shared a smile with an attractive woman who took her food to go, while i was halfway into eating in. at the same time, a guy from my office was eating alone at the same pizza place, someone i figured to have someone else to eat with. having a book to read, and not having said more than a few words to this coworker, i didn't impose myself upon his dinner. or maybe he was just busy not imposing himself on my alone-time, as if that's something i don't have an abundance of...

...

you know that feeling that what you're writing isn't going to see the light of day because back space is so conveniently located, and publish takes a deliberate act. yeah, it's something like that...

she's out there.

integrated blogger google ingrates

2006-12-28T22:41:00.000-08:00

streamline shmeamline, why must blogger and google slow down my blogging experience because they want me to work another e-mail account. so many e-mails, so little time.

just wanted to write before the end of the year. but in the conversion process everything got momentarily wonky. me no likey.

i have a new response to rhetorical questions: "that's like asking the square root of a million; no one will ever know." it's a simpson's quote, fairly random, oddly rhetorical, seemingly non sequitor, and patently false. i think i may irritate the crap out of my co-workers with it, but i find it endlessly ~~fascinating~~ entertaining.

i hate old women. well, not each and every single one--i totally love one of my grandmothers, and my mother's getting on in the years and she's alright, but there are two on my evening bus that really need to get bent. one of them is the type who blocks out the window seat because she's too good to sit next to the riff raff on the bus; then drive your car you old bat, because nobody wants to sit next to their fellow commuters but it's something you do in a civilized f--ing society. the other one made a very mountainesque molehill out of an overflowing bus passing our stop the day after it happened. yeah, it sucked, and the second bus was really freaking full, but the first driver was relatively justified in not picking us up due to being filled to capacity. sheesh. life goes on, b. (this rant brought to you by the tool song that came up on random in my cd player).

i think i may give the impression of being bitchy or whiney or something, which i don't intend to do. it's just that people are so damn stupid sometimes, and the world spins chaotically on and on and on in the same stupid way it has with no one stopping to question why... that's all i'm trying to do, but since i rage against shit that i have no control over, it sounds like mountanesque molehills derived from modern madness. blech.

got my first (and probably last) buzz cut on tuesday. i had my suspicions that my head was egg shaped, being all geek chic and shit, but this is pretty ridiculous. but on the plus side, my vanity force me to buy what i think is a pretty cool, soft, fuzzy, warm knit hat. it's also kind of nerdy cool, so there you have it.

one final gripe before i go: went to a vegan restaurant for lunch (no, i'm not vegan, but variety being the spice of life, and my desire to limit my meat intake after having it with all three meals yesterday... capiche?) and i've gotta say: veganism should be a choice. vegans should not have vegan kids--kids should have some animal protein in their diets until they are teens and then decide for themselves. this kid i saw with his self-righteous parents looked so damn malnourished that i just felt sorry for him. looked to be 8 to 10 years old and had freakin' dark circles under his eyes. now, maybe he just didn't get much sleep last night, but i'm thinking that's not the case. his whole look screamed: "feed me some real f--ing food." starving kids in africa look better because at least their parents don't bemoan the lives of the insects that their kids feast on.

ok, so there it is. liking the job, and actually getting caught up to a point where the piles of work that have been plaguing me since i started have diminished to a reasonable level. fridays and mondays (in this case, tuesdays) are always pretty busy, so hopefully this remains the case. ok, g'night gracie...

Electric night, black light, shadow white

2006-12-08T23:23:00.000-08:00

i.

publish truth angel
whisper pleasure dance
confess in my transgression
bleed love through music beneath
kindness translucent holy tree

read

drown in our certain story
puppet muse cliche poet

ii.

better
manuscript
like womanly people
break
head

iii.

bald brain
will take another
silent rhythm

iv.

conscious
dreams
could
mean success

Swami sez...

2006-11-29T22:59:00.000-08:00

cutler will get the broncos to the playoffs, but not any further. so sez swami...

an open letter to Chipotle

2006-11-18T15:35:00.000-08:00

Dear Chipotle,
As one of your original customers at the Evans store, I write to warn you of your impending doom. The devil has many faces, as you well know, and I have seen but one: the "Chipotle" at the PSU campus in Portland, OR. Now, naysayers may say, "but Leo, the Northwest isn't exactly known for its excellent Mexican food, why should Chipotle be any different." To that I say, "PSU is an isolated instance of Chipotle mediocrity." I've eaten at the Yamhill store and enjoyed a product quite similar in size and quality to the original. Not so at PSU!

I'm concerned. The burritos at PSU are the same price as anywhere else, but they're 2/3 the size, if that. The corn salsa is heavily onioned, the carnitas have masses of fat, and they try to skimp on the beans (probably leading to the microcosmic burritos on offer at this abomination unto Chipotle!).

And this wasn't just an aberration, the result of an unfortunately timed visit. I've had multiple similar experiences at this pseudo-tle. And I bring it to your attention, not out of my own greed, but out of concern for your franchise's future. I fell in love with your 'ritos as a college student, when a five-and-a-half-dollar burrito would feed me for the day. These are college kids with many years of burrito consumption ahead of them, and if they only have this restaurant to base their opinion of Chipotle on, I think they would be hard pressed to eat Chipotle when there's a perfectly good [insert mediocre chain restaurant] around the corner.

So please, think of the children! Won't somebody just think of the children?! I implore you, Chipotle, please send out quality auditors to this store and get it in gear. A few beans saved now can mean the end of a once-great purveyor of deliciousness.

Your pal,
Leo Danforth Mange, III

an update from the nw leo

2006-11-10T23:48:00.000-08:00

no, not me; kristin hersh. if she updates before you read this, i'm talking about the november 9 post in which she rants eloquently about the weather, which apparently is having a stronger effect on her psyche than it is on mine (i thought the northeast dames would be more accustomed to the rain than us rocky mountain highs, but there's more than weather to make or break a brain (in the rain--ha!)).

anyway, her new album comes out in january and she's supposed to "lay low" until then. but i have at least one more chance to see her before she correctly times her ~~campaign~~ tour. helskel, i expect to, in spirit, see you there.

(split inshminitive... ;-P )

Delivered

2006-11-02T00:01:00.000-08:00

*oh yeah*

signed, sealed, and not yet delivered...

2006-10-31T23:24:00.000-08:00

early voting is good. filled out my ballot tonight and will be dropping it off at the library the next time i stop by there (gotta either drop a book off or renew it the day before election day anyway). it feels good, like all the money going into the advertisements from here on out are wasted on me. wish i could say they were entirely wasted from the get-go, and that i voted without outside influence, but advertisements permeate our very consciousnesses to a point that we may not realize we're being advertised to. and being less than fully employed has left me more susceptible than usual due to too much time in front of the teevee. but now i'm free. my ballot is filled out, and i'm content with my choices.

i gotta say, i endorse the early voting/voting by mail/or what have you for your particular state. all those times i went to the voting booth, knowing too much about things i wouldn't be voting for, and not enough about some of the things i would be voting for, thanks to the voter pamphlets being different from the actual ballot. i actually made an informed decision about judges this time, which i hope to do more often in years to come.

off the subject of voting...

i really hate looking for a job. i went to an interview today and was told that to get the job i'd have to shave the beard. good thing he didn't see me yesterday before my haircut/beard-trimming-stravaganza, or i wouldn't have even had a chance, but i looked pretty damned clean cut today. half-way through the interview process and i'm less psyched than i was at first, but not entirely against it... just need to decide if i'm willing to part with the beard and work long hours and be all career-oriented and shit. i mean, it's a customer service-oriented job, so i understand their focus on outward appearance, but they do go beyond beard shaving: short hair is necessary (check) and no piercings for guys (currently check, but have been considering changing that--can't if i get and take this job). oh, and very professional dress. man, i was looking good today, sporting a tie and all, but i'd have to drop the blue shirt in favor of a white shirt. shit...

well, another job interview tomorrow, so i may have nothing to worry about. the above-opportunity still sounds good, just not as good. and other possibilities may make all this vacilation moot--you know, i'd hate to have too many choices (haw-haw).

wish i were good at interviewing. at least i know i'm a good worker, and that'll get me somewhere someday...

kill your television

2006-10-23T21:31:00.000-07:00

two more weeks of shrill political ads when i'm trying to watch the simpsons, jeopardy and the news... thank god for dvds, books and the internet, simple substitutes for the sick lies, distortions, attacks and all-around pandering that goes on 5 times per commercial break. jeesh...

brief politics rant

2006-10-17T23:28:00.000-07:00

feel the crisp air and the crunch of leaves beneath your feet and listen to the sounds of partisan attacks on teevee and you know what time of year it must be: fall? well yes, but also--it's almost election day (woopee).

watched the gubernatorial debate tonight on teevee. not impressed by either of the candidates involved in the debate (of course the third party candidates weren't invited)... neither did anything to make me totally against them. i'm leaning democratic (my brain somewhat, my knee moreso), but i may just vote green as a statement that neither of the major party candidates will do much more good or harm to the state of the state than the other will...

ho hum

but here's the rant portion. i'm really getting to a severe point of frustration with the dems. i mean, i disagree with republicans on pretty much every major issue, but the dems have done nothing over the last four, six, whatever years to make me think they'll govern much better. and their tactics for getting elected are total shite. take, for instance, a sign i saw today as i was coming home from an exercise in futility. it said (and this isn't an exact quote, but close enough):

"bush did nothing about 9/11; bush did nothing about katrina; and five years later, where's osama? vote democrats in and hold bush accountable"

and above that was a sign saying:

"vote to impeach, vote democrat."

to which i say "f-- you!!!" russ feingold of wisconsin brought up impeachment a year or two ago and was treated like a leper. the democrats helped vote for the war in iraq--and many still act like it was the proper thing to do... since when is proper determined by popularity?

i was against iraq before we went in because that target was in bush's best interests, not america's. it took poll after poll before democrats came out against it, and even now there's some split in the ranks. they will win one, if not both, house(s) of congress, but not because they earned it--no, it's only because the hubris of the republicans can no longer be hidden under the thin sheet of jingoism. the foley scandal? chump change to me, but the american people can wrap their 30-second soundbite brains around it, so it's selling democrat votes. look, pedophelia's bad, i'm not arguing that it ain't, but that's not a compelling reason for me to vote for democrats... but the dems aren't giving me much to work with.

the democrats just seem to be the other side of the same coin... bought by the same corporate donors to do well by the corporations. this country doesn't care about its people... the moneyed elite are all that matter, and their greed will be all of our downfall.

woops! kinda took a wrong turn there.

what i mean to say is, "this november 7, vote for change, vote for..." ahhh, fuck 'em.

it just bugs me.

two posts in one day. who says i'm not a prolific writer?

2006-10-14T21:57:00.000-07:00

portland is so freaking cool--

that it has turned me into an old lady...

because today, after work, i went antique-ing. oh yes i did. i live in a cool neighborhood with a bunch of random shops, and the bus let me off in front of an antique store and something random caught my eye and i had to go in. kind of amazing what passes for antiques these days (or maybe it's just this town, i don't know). so there i was, dead tired after 3 long days of work, giggling my way through the aisles. saw a hat i'd like to get, but my big ole irish melon wasn't gonna fit in a medium. there were old rolling stone magazines that were printed on newspaper paper, not all glossy like we have today. and "classic" playboys (i had to restrain myself from the bo derek one cuz i'm sure it'll be worth more than 8 bucks after hefner passes away). and an end-table/lamp that was just too much form and function. and so many other various knick-knacks that i can't even remember it all. oh yeah, can't leave out the nixon second-term button for laughs, and the zappa album that i hope to get for my friend butler back in denver.

then i went to another store where i bought a cool lamp recently and found that this really cool wooden easle was sold. it's too rich for my blood at the moment, but it would be a great buy either for me to aspire to art or to give to a friend who actually does art--but you snooze you lose i guess.

then i went to this cool hippy-dippy shop that had some sweet lamps and furniture and wooden sculptures (and some bronze ones). and so forth. they have these amazing root tables that i would love to get, but they're really expensive. they're multi-tiered, imported from bali, absolutely beautiful, and anywhere from 700 to 1200 dollars(!!!). gonna have to get either a great job or a rich woman, and soon!

did i mention that all three stores are within a block of each other, and within 2 or 3 blocks of me? cuz they are. i love my neighborhood. of course, not all of portland is like my neighborhood, but there's something for pretty much everyone.

[excerpted from an e-mail to a friend that i thought i'd share with more friends]

mid-october update

2006-10-14T00:08:00.000-07:00

asparagus makes your pee stink (well, mine anyway).

what a wonderful party, what a memorable night...

2006-09-23T20:54:00.000-07:00

here's what i remember:

when people started to show up i was working on my pre-party hydration. weird how you can be completely sober and people say, "uh oh, on water already?" well, no, i haven't started drinking yet.

and then i started drinking. and the merry-making was good. music and more people. mike paraphrased 'snakes on a plane': if the cops show up, this party's going down faster than a thai prostitute...

the party kept building, people kept showing--awesome. somewhere around 11 i took a shot per connor's request that i be loaded for the puppet show. not quite loaded, but warm and/or fuzzy on the inside! the puppet show went surprisingly well. ben, kc and connor did the action, darren taped the shenanigans, and i was tasked with pressing play and swaying with the closing music: 'we are the world'. it was a cathartic release to the times the puppet show symbolized: jen's getting knocked out of commission by three foul aneurisms and the process of getting them taken care of. that was what we were celebrating, though i thought it was cool that it fell on the fall equinox.

we are the world. we are the children. we are the ones who make a better day, so let's start givin'.

the party continued. the denoumah (damn, how's that spelled???). on the plus side, i think i know of a girl who digs me. the negative side, i got tongue-tied when i made that realization. the other plus side, i don't think that's the last i'll see of her. so yeah, everything's coming up milhouse!

that's about it. no wait, there's more: i broke one of our lawn chairs. i went to sit down and it was slightly inclined. it started to lean back, hit the fence, and broke so i could continue my fall. me and my fat ass! then, of course, i'm laying there like a turtle on his back and there was a delay in the reaction... it took awhile to get the help i needed to get back to upright. hi-larious.

that's about that. i awoke today to a messy house. we cleaned up, jen made some grub, i found out that connor lost his cookies at some point in the evening, and now i'm starting to think about dinner. i think the time-stamp is still on mountain time, but it's 9:30.

and the saga continues...

rainy morning ponderings, part 1

2006-09-19T19:49:00.000-07:00

got onto a bus with available seats this morning for a change. sat down next to a girl who was wearing a shit-ton of perfume. turn my head to the right, perfume cloud; to the left, an odor remeniscent of a lavatory. the rain was heavier yesterday. i'm not saying yesterday's rain was severe, but today's drizzle was... less so.

i've heard that eskimos have, like, thousands of words for all the different types of snow they recognize. all the different heavinesses, wetnesses, shades and strengths and what have you. i wonder if portlanders have a similar number of words for the different types of rain. i wonder if portlanders would even call this morning's rain, "rain." it wasn't much, but it speckled my spectacles...

i know of drizzle, which indicates small droplets that sort of float down the atmosphere, blanketing the air somewhat. and i know of torrential downpours of large drops beating down, soaking passersby to the core. i huddled in my office one lunch hour while the rain came down in torrents. then i picked up an umbrella on my way out for the day to what i considered drizzle. i never used my umbrella, but found that it was doing something more than just drizzling. during my walk i got gradually soaked. it wasn't really drizzle, nor was it torrential. with my limited rain-vocabulary, i've decided it could only be one thing: "to-rrizzle"! er, fo' shizzle...

and the beat goes on like rain on a metal awning.

don't stop the rockin'

2006-09-18T21:49:00.000-07:00

i'd like to take this opportunity to welcome back helskel of therubberwall (see "links" for a link). helskel, i'm gonna make you jealous by the end of this post... just fair warning (which i've been less than generous with as of late...) without further ado:

MusicFestNW... a showcase of what portland has to offer musically, some great, some not-so-great, but quite an interesting barhop from the bicycle. and what i found was worth the price of admission, both in spectacle and talent:

first, the spectacle: portland's "next hottest band," as decided by i-don't-know-who, is copy--and copy sux big donkey doodie. a cheeseball with a key-tar busting out pre-programmed beats for the retarded portion of the portland population (which, by the way, i didn't know was so large, but i guess it goes to show that drugs ARE bad... mmmm-kay). really bad, and truly pathetic in his professionalism (laptop failure sent his crap... uh, act... into a tailspin). perhaps he should cut the techmological umbilical and get a new groove... (damn, that's nerdtastic!) fortunately, i found much better at the fest...

for instance, there was alela diane, who's good in a folksy sort of way, and i think she could do well. time will tell, but she's got a good sound. (i like it for a song or three, but i'm not sure about an album... maybe to lull me to sleep, which is actually high praise coming from me... you get the picture)

the lead singer from sunny day real estate has a solo project. i think his name is brian engck (or maybe jeremy?). saw him at the crystal ballroom, and i was pleased. he only did one solo acoustic song, which i thought he'd be exploring more since leaving sunny day, but i liked sunny day and his band is pretty solid.

and as loud and cool as engck was, the melvins took my ringing ears and shoved them through a shredder. apparently they were a big influence of k cobain's. fuuuuuuck... two drummers beating the crap outta the drums, and some freaky big guitarist and bassist clad in black dresses and rocking--ROCKING!--like i can't remember seeing since... i don't know when. if i ever need some wake-up music, a melvins cd is in order. they were really, really good. thank god for earplugs and the advanced age that makes hipness secondary to comfort.

and now for the jealous maker:

KRISTIN HERSH...

saw her at jimmy maks, a jazz club in the pearl. (the pearl is like lodo--ex-ghetto turned hip, white, urban, yuppie. not my fave part of town, but kristin hersh for god's sake!) a set with some of hips and makers, some throwing muses, and kind of heavy on her sunny border blue album. she introduced "william's cut" with a warning that it includes the f-bomb. she was shy and strange and sweet, and this was the first time i've seen her solo. she (unlike copy) was a professional; the monitors were bad and she didn't make a fuss until between songs, and even then it was with humor ("that's ok, i know what guitar sounds like"). and when they got it together, she wowed the almost-capacity crowd. 25 feet away from her is far compared to the muses shows i've seen, but this felt more intimate.

i need to see her group 50footwave soon... i missed out this past weekend due to ear issues, but since she also lives in portland i think i'll get another chance soon.

and that's pretty much that... i mean, the first band i saw (and i forget their names), i recognized the keyboardist from the bus (never knew i was that close to greatness on the number 4!!). and helskel, look for jurado in denver--i have to go up to seattle to see him in october--you don't need to take that three-hour journey!

and i'd like to thank henry ford for repetitive stress injuries...

2006-09-15T20:39:00.000-07:00

i think it was selma (though it could've been patty) who said, "i think i got carpal tunnel from scratching my butt all day."

bitterness and irony

2006-09-14T20:32:00.000-07:00

i'm a temp. i temp for [big insurance co]. i have no insurance...

i've been meaning to get some form of insurance. COBRA from my old work was running over $300/month so that wasn't an option. but my roommate's brain surgery bills reminded me how important insurance is ([different big insurance co] is stuck with over $200k for her).

my temp agency offers insurance--they were supposed to provide info with the first check. i've gotten 2 checks, no info, and haven't followed up yet. i'm a slacker.

my ear seems to want to be infected. i'm almost positive it is. my sinuses have been messed up since my arrival. now my ear hurts. constant effort can keep it at bay, but it's not giving up easily.

i have no insurance. i'm in a new city, i need some form of infection killer, i'm an american in america. they don't sell antibiotics over the counter. i'm screwed.

well, not screwed, but seeing first hand how screwy our system is. i can afford (with some pain) a doctor's visit and a prescription. but i'm not looking forward to spending more than $100 for a five minute visit for the doctor to tell me what i already know and to scribble on a piece of paper. i can think of much better uses for (untold amounts of) that money.

i've been looking into insurance the past couple of days. i can have a free doctor's visit in two to four weeks if i apply today. i can't take the chance that the infection will spread further and make me really sick. i can have catastrophic insurance "coverage" in a couple of days, but that doesn't do anything for something as routine as an ear infection... hell, it hardly helps me out in a catastrophe unless i come close to death--then i'd still leave the hospital with a mountain of debt.

i'm an uninsured employee of an insurance agency. i'll be fine, but our system is broken. a fractured system that leaves millions out. something's got to give.

ps, for a good time, try searching for your own health insurance; that was one of the more confusing things i've done in a long time.

from freewill to my cranium

2006-09-05T21:41:00.000-07:00

LEO:You may soon have a dream of beating up the person you were five years ago. This would be a good omen. It means you're ready to wean yourself completely from a stale old self-image. If you dream of feeding caviar and champagne to a donkey, it's also a positive sign. It means you're beginning to recognize that the hard-working beast in you needs to be treated more luxuriously. And if you dream of yelling at a bunch of kids to go clean up their messy bedrooms, Leo, that's an auspicious portent as well. It signifies your readiness to discipline the irresponsible habits and organize the unruly impulses of your inner child.

(assuming copyright control, here's the link)

This town is crazy, and nobody cares...

2006-08-27T22:46:00.000-07:00

the title of this post is in the top two song lyrics that infect my brain lately (courtesy of Beck). the other (courtesy of Elliott Smith) is "walking around, up and down, division street; i used to like it here, it just bums me out to remember..." that last one probably wouldn't be so prevalent were i not living a block from division...

anyway, this town is quite nuts. don't know exactly where i fit in, but i do. that is, i guess i seem native enough. i keep getting asked directions anyway.

and the bus. lord how the bus is a bad thing on which to base your take on a city. i was doing that for a time, but it passed. i mean, the bus is really quite representative, but also shows the underbelly. from a car you aren't so immersed in the underbelly. you can quickly drive by rather than be riding along.

i want a car, but i need a bike. really, i wouldn't use a car but a couple times a week from where i'm at. commuting downtown would be miserable for traffic and parking, and it's 15-30 minutes to downtown on the bus, depending on traffic... and thirty minutes is a stretch. but to be in your own pod is nice sometimes. i guess i'm into the car thinking because i borrowed my roommate's car yesterday to pick up my other roommate's prescriptions, and the convenience is nice... but the cost is unnecessary... maybe a flexcar(tm)?

bike-friendly, thy name is portland. more bikes ride down my street than cars. bikes of all shapes, sizes, models, modifications. crazy.

was walking downtown on friday, on my break from work, and noticed that you're never too far from a park. like the city planners were like, "well, we could put a building here, but we're already three whole blocks from the nearest park," so they made it a park instead. a couple of blocks from my house is the smallest park i've ever seen. i think it's about two or three lots big. but it is a park, named and with a playground and everything.

but i'm not a yuppie living in the pearl, i'm not all tattooed from head to toe, not a white guy with dreads, or a hipster... guess i am just a regular guy, as i've been told... and i guess that's fine.

da hood!

2006-07-29T23:20:00.000-07:00

close, but so far

2006-07-29T21:49:00.000-07:00

last day of work was brutal... five hours to do an hour's worth of work. people kept coming up, sue baked a cake ("you're doing what now?") and so on. that was wednesday...

thursday was a day wasted. i wanted to get things done, but my apartment had some uninvited guests that required gas and the subsequent away-time so as not to be poisoned. it was also a good day, but very little got done as far as moving is concerned. i got up and prepped for senor muerte. he showed up early and i continued my prepping. by the time he was done, my throat had had it (i really wanted to be gone before the spraying of the ick...). so i went and grabbed a bite to eat and read an alt-weekly. then i went to the hippie-dippy shop, browsed for awhile, asked about a reading, was denied a reading because the reader didn't bring her cards (fair enough--just a foolish fun expense that i don't need now) so i kept looking around. found two books that struck my fancy and bought them. went to the coffee shop to start reading them. 50 pages into the first one and i was less than impressed. i was looking for new age, and it kept harping on the main character's faith in god (with a capital "g"). does he end up losing his faith? i don't know, i'll read more on the plane, but it better get off the god and into the personal/spiritual or it'll lose my attention... sorry, not my cup of tea at this point in my life; all things considered, it could become my cup of tea, but for now...

so i start reading my other book, and this one delivered. "chakras for beginners". since all i knew was that i had heard the word i didn't want to get the "chakras for chakras masters" or whathaveyou, so i went for the near-"for dummies" version, and what i've read so far rings true. it seems like it's about balance and progressing from base, animalistic drives to a sort of human divinity... i don't want to say "god" (especially after giving him/her such hell in the previous paragraph), but more of a higher enlightenment through acceptance, understanding, and a certain amount of wisdom. yeah, that was what i wanted from the hippie-dippy store! don't get me wrong, i'm far from enlightened, but it just seemed right for this part of my path. we'll see how long until it offers me something i'm not ready for, or am resistant to, but for now... i'm inspired to read more!

i went home and watched jeopardy to bide my time until dinner. jason, helskel, liz, brooke and brad were there. fine chicken, salad, taters and so forth were had by all, and they made sure i'd miss them when i'm gone.

then i went home and b informed me about j and the aneurism formerly known as big bertha... and the other two, whose names have yet to be shared with me. and i paced around my apartment and called friends and posted the second to last entry. bertha was taken care of in a sterile but profound way by dr. feelgood. the other two's days are numbered (the bastards!).

friday i packed some, returned my modem to comcast, and shipped some stuff. i also went through boxes of stuff that've moved with me unopened five or six times with documents from the mid-nineties (holy crap!). and finally sold my desk (coffee table is probably not going to be sold).

and today i delivered random furnitures that friends and family kindly took off my hands. and packed for the plane and threw away other stuff from boxes not looked at since two or three moves ago.

and now i'm at my mother's house. she's in ohio doing a family reunion thing that my move precluded me from. i wanted to go, but i wanted to stop waiting for life more. i also wanted to get to the northwest before the "rainy" season. anyway, at my mother's house blogging... because i'm alone and uncomfortable because the place reminds me of a museum (but my place reminds me of empty). and i talked to l for a second, but she was tired... and her ex is in the pokey for less time than previously thought...

and so things are less bad than they were. and i have got to stop starting sentences with "and".

i guess i'm less nervous, more excited, but still in a state of limbo. i'm going to miss my friends in denver, but the grass is greener on the other side (but i'm convinced it has more to do with the extra precipitation than anything else). tomorrow i get to finish up around my apartment. aj's gonna give me a ride to the airport on monday after we do lunch. i sure hope i get to be on the left side of the plane so i can take a picture of mount hood as we pass by.

helskel has a quote (not sure if it's original or taken from someone else, but):

"it happens; write before you die."

in times of anger i want to amend it bitterly, but tonight i want to amend it as a means of explanation (and, to a certain extent, understanding):

"it happens; live before you die."

our paths may diverge, but we're both living, we're both writing, and we're both dying...

i hope you are too.

peas

but, BUT!

2006-07-28T00:43:00.001-07:00

from free will:

LEO:
Travel writer Bruce Chatwin walked around Australia as he researched and meditated on the indigenous people's beliefs about what the land was like in the ancient past. He wrote: "Aboriginal creation myths tell of the legendary totemic beings who wandered over the continent in the Dreamtime, singing out the name of everything that crossed their path--birds, animals, plants, rocks, waterholes--and so singing the world into existence." Given the fact that you're now primed to create a new domain or two, Leo, may I suggest the aborigines' approach? You'll infuse everything with extra beauty if you play around with singing it into existence.

quothe the beatles: "so i sing a song of love, Jooolia!"

going to portland, everything's gonna be bomb...

2006-07-28T00:27:00.000-07:00

or so i keep telling myself.

dear sweet gawd on heaven and earth, let the third bit o' crap happen before i board the plane...

1) l's a single mom (for really real!) now, now that the ex is in jail for awhile for being a dumbass...

2) j's in the hospital with ... 3?!... aneurisms...

3) ?

either bad shit's gonna come in threes, or i'm gonna be the lucky rabbit's foot... holy crap and wtf???

teh internets goes away in a few hours... i'll write again when i'm in the forest...

wish us luck.

band on the run...

2006-07-17T02:33:00.000-07:00

ok, so princess diary of starrynightboutique (i'll make a link when it isn't so damn late) took this from someone and i'm taking it from her: take a band and answer these questions only with their song titles. maybe i'll do two posts, but for now, the cure:

1. Are you male or female? three imaginary boys
2. Describe yourself. homesick
3. How do some people feel about you? hot, hot, hot
4. How do you feel about yourself? faith, doubt (two songs from the same album)
5. Describe your "ex". strange attraction
6. Describe your current significant other. all i want
7. Describe where you want to be. a forest
8. Describe how you live. trust
9. Describe how you love. never enough
10. What would you ask for if you had a wish? give me it
11. Share a few words of wisdom. to wish impossible things
12. Now say goodbye. gone!

WWIII?

2006-07-14T17:53:00.000-07:00

very interesting article via workingforchange about the israel/lebanon situation and its implications far and wide. this is such a trainwreck that i can't seem to wrap my head around it, but the link above got me started. so much animosity, and it has global implications that reach way beyond the middle east. combine that with the fact that the u.s. is bogged down in iraq, sitting ducks to iranian attacks, the same iran that's been puffing its chest out to the u.s. and is warning israel to stay away from syria, and we have ourselves a hot war that's only getting hotter.

my initial reaction was that israel was way overreacting to the initial attack, but now i see the impetus, what with the iranian missiles being lobbed from lebanon, and i still see it as an overreaction that's going to cost more lives than it saves, but... uh, yikes... how long until this war really reaches our shores? 9/11 has been likened to pearl harbor, but what if 9/11 were perpetrated by a sovereign state? and what if it happened while our troops were stretched too thin to protect us? and what help are ground forces against a nuclear n. korea or iran?

sure, we've got a missile defense shield that doesn't work, but for some reason that doesn't instill in me much faith.

meh, we're boned but we still have time (in theory). cooler heads have to prevail, or so i keep telling myself. if i repeat it often enough, maybe someday i'll believe it.

like a rolling stone

2006-07-14T00:07:00.000-07:00

As best as I can tell I move, and have moved, a lot. Born in Ohio in August of nineteen hundred and seventy-five, but by early seventy-six I had relocated to Denver. Between '76 and '82 I relocated several times, to Texas, back to Denver, to the SF Bay area and back to Denver. Of course those moves were not so much my choice as my mother's, but that's a lot early on. I lived in Denver from 1982-2002... in (calculation time) no less than 10 houses and apartments (wow).

In '02 I moved to the pacific northwest, Portland more specifically... through a vile combination of poor planning, bad timing, and the god-awful post-911 (read "Bush") economy, my time there was cut short. I returned to Denver a bit older, a lot wiser, and much poorer. Que sera sera...

Since returning in December of '02 I have lived in (mas calculations...) 4 more places.

So what now? Back to Portland.

So much anxiety fills me... like, I won't be able to rest until I succeed where I once failed. And you know, I'll do better. And I know I'll do better... But yeah, the anxiety's there.

Gave my notice at my job yesterday, and get to tell my group tomorrow... piles of weirdness. And now I get to do the thing I hate worse than most anything else I can think of right now: look for work. I have a couple leads, but nothing's firm.

Shit...

What do you get when you cross brass balls with immense fear?

(it's time to) move on

2006-07-05T23:51:00.000-07:00

wha-... where have i gotten to? running away or going home, running home or going away? there's the fork; which road do i take?

there's no right answer, there are no wrong answers. are you kidding me, man, just pull the fuckin' trigger...

everything moves on...

to ensure myself a place on the to-watch list

2006-06-29T16:06:00.000-07:00

here's a link to an article that really lays out the peril of checking your skepticism at the door when dealing with the propoganda machine. the claim that you have nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide just doesn't hold water; you aren't the one who decides what should be hidden. the terrorists are a much smaller group than the people who disagree with this administration's policies--a needle in a haystack versus (more than) half the haystack. the choice seems to be this: passively watch as bit by bit our liberties are taken away, or actively voice your concerns while you're still able...

always remember: Those willing to give up a little liberty for a little security deserve neither security nor liberty.--Benjamin Franklin

i don't know why i did it, i don't know why i enjoyed it, and i don't know why i'll do it again!

2006-06-14T19:43:00.000-07:00

You Are Bart Simpson

Very misunderstood, most people just dismiss you as "trouble."

Little do they know that you're wise and well accomplished beyond your years.

You will be remembered for: starring in your own TV show and saving the town from a comet

Your life philosophy: "I don't know why I did it, I don't know why I enjoyed it, and I don't know why I'll do it again!"

The Simpsons Personality Test

my plea to the media re: al zarqawi's death

2006-06-12T13:31:00.000-07:00

dear media,

it seems american forces have killed the number one enemy in iraq. i get it, and for what it is i suppose it's good--at least they hit their target, and i won't argue that he wasn't a bad man. and early on it seemed that you were exercising a modicum of good taste, for which i applaud you. but it seems that you have given up good taste for the sensational. believe me, i'm not surprised, but also believe that i'm disgusted and would like to make a small request.

STOP PLASTERING HIS BLOATED DEAD MELON ALL OVER YOUR REPORTS! you said he was dead, and i understood. much like with saddam's sons, you seem to be getting some morbid jollies off of showing pictoral evidence of this death. i know you aren't trying to be respectful of al zarqawi or his family or his people, but you have trampled, spat and vomitted upon the line of good taste. and i for one don't need to see it when i'm watching/reading the news. i get it!

i could go on, but i think that sums it up pretty well.

with more respect than you're bestowing upon your audience,

leomange

has it really come to this?

2006-06-08T01:42:00.000-07:00

just a brief rant about obesity, candy, and the illusion of corporate responsibility:

a quick disclaimer, i'm not a big candy consumer. but today i had an urge for some sugar to go with my lunch. 'hmm,' i thought, 'a coke? no, that's too much sugar. but i can just drink half?' the vending machine at my work had hershey's with almonds and mr. goodbars staring me down. 'alright, candy bar it is,' i decide. i choose the hershey's with almonds, grab a sugar-free soda, and set down to eat.

so i get to the end of my meal, and, fittingly, the candy bar, and there is some code inscribed inside the wrapper--the WrapperCash(tm) code! i can start banking points today! and below this exciting news is the message: 'Candy is a treat. Please consume in moderation.'

jeez, where to begin? a) the messages are conflicting--'collect points and earn prizes, but don't collect too many points, fatty!', b) do they actually expect binge candy-eaters to cut back thanks to their concern printed in their wrapper (as an ex-smoker, the surgeon general couldn't sway me off those bad-boys for many years, so my guess would be 'no'), and c) have we as a society really reached that point where we need to be told that candy shouldn't be a staple in our diets?

and it's 'c)' that i'm most concerned about. those psa commercials urging us to park farther away from our destinations and walk a few more steps?!?! or take stairs?

and here's the deal: i know we have reached that point as a society. my office spans three floors that are connected by stairwells. i can't tell you how many times i see people using the elevator to advance one floor. i'll do it once in a great while, but that's not until i've traversed the stairs several times. i also walk to work nine times out of ten, and rarely use the elevator at my apt (4th floor, though it helps that that elevator is scaaary), except when doing laundry.

and the people who use the stairs the least are generally the people who need to use them the most.

sheesh.

p.s. if you collect these WrapperPoints(tm), feel free to add these two points to your bank... but this offer is on a first come first served basis: XYFR AMTK EL3F at hersheys.com.

Mucousy Rigby

2006-06-01T15:20:00.000-07:00

to the tune of 'Eleanor Rigby' by The Beatles

ah, look at all the mucky mucous
ah, spit out all the mucky mucous

leomange rigby, hocking and hacking and spitting the phlegm down the drain
allergies're lame
taking a shower, trying to clean out the crap from the night before
what is it for?

all the freakin' mucous
where did it all come from?
all the freakin' mucous
where does it all belong?

sudafed hazy, causing the day to be manic and crazy-insane
coffee seems tame.
look at him working, drugging up every four hours to get through the day
to feel okay.

all the freakin' mucous
where did it all come from?
all the freakin' mucous
where does it all belong?

ah, look at all the mucky mucous
ah, spit out all the mucky mucous

so comes the evening, leomange goes home, his nose gets all freakin' stuffed up
don't wanna stay up
smoke through the window, cigarette smokers, the neighbors who live downstairs
what do they care

all the freakin' mucous
where did it all come from?
all the freakin' mucous
where does it all belong?

someone else's suicide

2006-05-25T01:25:00.000-07:00

i had a dream.

who was i with, who had the gun? i was in a parking lot near a desk. when the gun was pulled i hit the deck... but the gun wasn't pulled on me. it was pulled on the one who possessed the gun. as i cowered under the desk, the heat from the asphalt drifted upwards in waves and my assailant sprayed his brains behind and below him. down he went...

i was with somebody. who was it? a co-worker, a friend? i think it was a co-worker, not a friend. she cowered with me under the desk... in the parking lot. even after the bullet(s) had been discharged, we lay in wait, afraid for our lives.

the man with the gun was dead, but i still couldn't get away. i still couldn't get away. i was trapped.

i woke up tired.

delicious brains...

2006-05-25T01:22:00.000-07:00

vision of the day

2006-05-24T01:15:00.000-07:00

been looking all over the internet, but can't find the image... Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke beheading parking meters in the opening scene. Classic!

i wish i had something to write

2006-05-19T00:56:00.000-07:00

blocked... perhaps with my early morning tomorrow i'll barge in on a juicy dream that'll be bloggable. for now, though, just contemplating a compilation and working my way westward...

vagueries aside, maybe i should take princess up on her offer of the subject that starts with a letter... let's just do it... sorry i didn't take the letter through the proper channels, but i was going to wait until i was able to do it, and now i'm too inspired(?) to wait for the proper channels to be gone through. meh. so the letter is (blindly stabbing at the keyboard): s

santa: myth, christianity, childhood wonder. i don't have kids, but like to think i wouldn't lie to them... but the societal pressure is there. hell, i know an agnostic ex-jew who partakes in the santa myth with her daughter. i just remember finding out and feeling lied to... by my mother, my teachers, my brothers... that sucked.

strings: my guitars are making me quite irate... the twelve-string: buzzing here, sounding awful there, and apparently warping thanks to... something. the classical: re-strung less than two months ago and i've had to jerry-rig two strings that broke at the bridge. don't know about the other guitar--it's with me brother (considering my recent experiences, it's probably for the better).

sinuses: what can i say, this spring has been a peach. speaking of which, and keeping with the theme, the super salty saline spray sorta sucks. but it is somewhat effective.

songs: what can i say, music rocks my world. coulda shoulda woulda, but don't. gotta stop listening to people who disagree with my heart.

second chance: gonna make the same mistake twice, or try, try again? i think, try, try again, with the opportunity to make some magnificent new mistakes. is what i think. you know, i have learned from the past, but it wasn't all wrong. i want what was right back. i can get it back, but i know it won't be easy. so much uncertainty, but what have i got to lose by trying? a disquieting comfort. a comfort bought with my soul. it's done, it's over, goodbye, good luck, and thanks for all the fish...

scatterbrain: somewhere i'm a ... scatterbrain--radiohead

spectacles: beglassed for three plus years. it is what it is...

smack: heroin or dat ass... i think i prefer the latter!

peas.

the real Ahmadi-Najad letter

2006-05-11T18:18:00.000-07:00

all kidding aside, here's the real letter. i read it, i wasn't really impressed (though he did make some points about our foreign policy and lapdog media that were true), but i think it's worth a read by anyone who doesn't just accept everything bush and his ~~cronies~~ administration says at face value. why the media gave bush's reaction without supplying what he was reacting to is beyond me, but they aren't doing their job. to me, that's a sad state of affairs...

"See, in my line of work you got to keep repeating things over and over and over again for the truth to sink in, to kind of catapult the propaganda." —George W. Bush, Greece, N.Y., May 24, 2005

compare that to this:

...After 9/11, instead of healing and tending to the emotional wounds of the survivors and the American people – who had been immensely traumatized by the attacks – some Western media only intensified the climates of fear and insecurity, constantly talking about the possibility of new terror attacks and keeping the people in fear. Is that service to the American people? Is it possible to calculate the damages incurred from fear and panic?

American citizens lived in constant fear of fresh attacks that could come at any moment and in any place. They felt insecure in the streets, in their place of work, and at home. Who would be happy with this situation? Why was the media, instead of conveying a feeling of security and providing peace of mind, giving rise to a feeling of insecurity?... —Mahmood Ahmadi-Najad

it's a scary world, but it's especially scary when you're told constantly, and over and over and over again, to be afraid... be very afraid... the bogeyman is out there in every imaginable shape.

msm scooped, yet again, by the blogosphere!

2006-05-10T18:08:00.000-07:00

all the king's horses and all the king's men have been tight-lipped about the contents of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's letter to gwb. but after cruising the internet i found the results to be quite surprising:

"Dear President Bush:
I am writing you on the advice of my therapist, who says I have alot of unresolved feelings towards your country. I have my doubts, but I want to show Dr. Gulzar that I'm committed to our therapy.

Iran and America ought to work together to reduce international tensions. I propose a simple trade: if you promise not to invade Iran, I promise to wear a tie. Of course, the choice of tie will be Iran's alone.

Since Dr. Gulzar is always telling me to 'speak my truth,' I want to tell you something. The goal of Iran's nuclear program is not a bomb. It is to make a working replica of the time-traveling car from Back to the Future. Have you ever seen that movie? Not everyone knows this, but there are three of them. If you want, I can loan them to you, but you have to PROMISE to give them back.

To achieve this dream, Iran requires two things: nuclear power, and a DeLorean. Could you keep your eyes open? I'm working Craigslist, but so far nothing. I'm sure you agree, there's really no point in doing it, if it's not authentic.

Respectfully,
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad
PS--Do you know how I can get in touch with Christopher Lloyd?"

you heard it here first, folks!

"The Party" by Starlings

2006-05-09T15:40:00.000-07:00

just some lyrics floating around in my head--copyright 1995-ish, and i can't promise 100% accuracy (hell, i don't even know if that's the correct title of the song)

fatty fed himself first
smokey rolled his own
mrs. poor, she checked her purse
important checked his phone

(chorus)
what a wonderful party
what a memorable night
what a perfect photo opportunity
what a good excuse for a fight

vanity's getting acne scars
ugly thinks it's funny
grateful thanked our lucky stars
and tightwad hid his money

(repeat chorus)

bubblehead does another twirl
the king sits on his throne
sleazy feels another girl
lonely feels his own

(repeat chorus and out...)

stupid internet quiz time

2006-05-05T16:16:00.000-07:00

not bad, not bad at all...

You are Hard Harry from Pump up the Volume

You are shy, but once you overcome that you are inspirational to those around you. You are rebellious and like to push the authority figures' buttons.

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

universal healthcare speech, a work in progress

2006-05-05T13:22:00.000-07:00

this is something i started on yesterday and plan to flesh out more in the future. comments and suggestions are welcome, and facts and figures will be provided when i get to the meat of it.

Intro:

Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for your time and attention. I’m here to speak about something that I feel is very wrong with our society, and something that I think needs to be addressed: healthcare, and our limited access to it. It is my belief that healthcare is not privilege, but a right. I also believe that with a universal healthcare plan, not only do individuals benefit, but so does our entire nation. Less people going into debt and/or bankruptcy to care for themselves or their sick loved ones means less people feeling the desperation that is at the heart of many crimes; people don’t steal bread to feed their families if their families are fed.

Personal Experience:

I’d like to begin by saying that I have health insurance. I’m in an ever-decreasing majority in that respect. I have lived without health insurance for many years, but thankfully I was healthy during those years. But here’s what I’ve experienced over the past three years with insurance: decreasing benefits with increasing premiums. In fact, this year I am paying about 40% more in my monthly premium while my deductible has increased by a third compared to just one year ago. The level of service I can expect has remained unchanged. But my out-of-pocket expenses make it hard for me to justify a doctor’s visit if I fall ill. I have to ask myself if I’m sick enough to pay the expense, allowing any illnesses I may get to reach crisis status if it doesn’t get better on its own. I believe I’m in the majority in this balancing act as well.

But I share majority status in thought as well. Recent polls show that more than 60% of Americans believe in some form of universal healthcare system. As for the other 30-40%, I assume these are the same people who believe Iraq is going swimmingly, so, uh, more power to them. But for the rest of us, healthcare should be about health, not money. And our healthcare dollars can be better spent on preventative medicine than on marketing and the extreme administrative costs that come from a fractured system. Or on the bandaid we give to the extremely sick in the form of emergency care, the cost of which dwarfs the costs of keeping everyone healthy in the first place.

The Capitalist/Communist False Dichotomy:

U.S. Model:

International Theory:

The Myth of the Bootstrap:

Action:

part five

2006-05-03T00:07:00.000-07:00

here's part four wherein our hero goes through the memories that brought him to the impoverished, lonely state that he finds himself in... but it seems he's found a new friend in...

"i'm rebecca, what's your name?"

"re... bec... ca," i repeat, dazed with my hand inflating like a helium balloon at a five-year-old's birthday party.

"that's a funny name for a dude. and it could get confusing, i think. if you don't mind i'll just call you rebecca 2. and this is sara."

"what," i say, having heard but not understood. then, of course, it hits me. "oh, no. i mean, rebecca... it's nice to meet you rebecca. i'm leo."

I hold out my hand out of habit, but she wisely refuses it.

"So, what's going on that's got you so bent, there, Leo mah boy?" She gives my shoulder a playful nudge.

i sit down, pull my pouch of tobacco out of my backpack and fumble through my attempt to roll a cigarette with one good hand. "well, i guess it's everything, really. no money, no job, my car broke down, not that i can afford it. but it's all i had, and even that's not working for me."

she hands me a pre-rolled smoke, lights it for me, and says, "wow, you're quite the mess there."

"yeah, well, i've made my mistakes, and here i am. i don't really want to talk about it. what's your story?"

"sara and i were just enjoying the day, chillin' as the kiddies say."

"yep, jes cole chillin'," sara adds.

"then, i don't know, you caught my eye. sara said you looked crazy, and i guess she's right that you looked crazy, but i kinda figured it was more than met the eye."

"... a little from column a, a little from column b, i suppose," i say.

"wanna go smoke a bowl," rebecca asks.

"i don't know--"

"oh come on, i know you don't have a job. why the hell not? what've you got to lose?"

"well..." i look at her, her hair in her face, a mischievous smile graces her round soft face. "i mean..."

"come on leo, what are you a man or a..."

sara makes a mock-chicken sound.

"or perhaps you're the king of the jungle."

"that was a little easy," i say.

"but it got you to smile."

i put a hand to my mouth. "oh, heheh, so it did."

"let's go you little pussy."

she grabs my good hand and leads me to the parks and recreation ladies' room and gets me high. at some point during our illicit merrymaking we're interrupted by a pre-teen wanting to use the facilities. she was awfully rude and we were high enough so we left. an older lady, presumably the pre-teen's mother, gave us a crusty as we emerged, but sara and rebecca kept it light and kept moving... i had little choice but to follow. we lay on the grass, look to the clouds, talk. the girls are friends from college, about a year from graduating. sara's from southern california, rebecca's from the bay area. when i tell them i'm from denver they razz me about my lack of a cowboy hat and accent. i respond defensively, call them ignorant and they laugh.

"take a joke pussycat," says rebecca.

oh god, i hope that that petname doesn't stick...

"ok, so i'm soo friggin' hungry," says sara.

"me too," says rebecca.

"yeah, i got the munchies, man" i say, "but i've no dough."

"s'okay," says sara. "i got visa. and daddy loves his princess." she hams up the last part with emphasis on 'loves' and 'princess.'

we head to a deli on 2nd and couch...

i agree

2006-04-16T01:06:00.000-07:00

link.

ps, this is NOT worksafe. it's a song that contains explicit lyrics. you've been warned...

The Corporation, or how I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb

2006-04-14T14:09:00.000-07:00

With all due respect to the late Mr. Kubrick and the immortal Dr. Strangelove.

i watched the movie, the corporation (twice) last weekend and i gotta hand it to the people who made it: very good job indeed. and so as not to look too random i'll explain the association i made to strangelove above--the military/industrial complex is ever present and keeps the gears moving whether you like it or not.

the problem with the movie, as is the problem with corporations and my worldview, is that there are so so many problems that it gets to seem overwhelming in the end. the problem is focus. much as i would like to save the world, where do i start? if i work the environment angle, the human rights issues are still there. if i work the human rights angle, there's still the question of manipulative advertising and its effect on the young and naive. and so on.

the big bitch of it all is that corporations usurped human rights from the 14th amendment, the stated aim of which was helping the freed slaves. but corporations got human rights thanks to some dirty deals and probably one or two corrupt judges... rights afforded to humans, but with limited liability and no pesky conscience to deal with. in fact, one thing that the movie glossed over that i had to research for myself was the fact that the bottom line for the corporation is money above all else. i mean, i knew it to be true, but it was stated so matter of factly in the movie that i was left wanting to know "why?"

the why is this: Dodge v. Ford Motor Company. ironic name, i know, but here's the thing that bugs me. henry ford noticed that he was making incredible profits, and as ceo he decided to use some of that extra capital for altruistic, philanthropic purposes. he thought it'd be nice to drop the price of cars while employing more people. what a novel idea, to use a corporation to benefit the people.

but the shareholders didn't like it. mr. ford was going all "robin hood" on the people who owned his company, and that just wouldn't do.

in the 1919 case, the court told ford, effectively, "to hell with the public good"... in capitalism your job is to serve your shareholders. and you aren't serving them by giving them the warm and fuzzy feeling that they are helping people. the way you serve them is by turning their dollars into more dollars. and that case was applied to all corporations for the last (almost) 90 years.

and, you know, the implications are great.

sweatshops help the bottom line, outsourcing helps the bottom line, and polluting the environment is generally cheaper than not (er, financially, not philosophically). simple economics tells you that if it's cheaper to go to court than to pay your employees' pension, you should probably cut them off and let them bring suit (if they can afford it).

there are examples of good guys in the movie, and i'm sure there are more than they showed. but for every interface there's a thousand philip morrises. and sure, philip morris is working on helping smokers quit, or some other such bullshit line they try to feed us, but they make it too easy to question their real motives. they're helping smokers quit because it's good pr, not because they sell an addictive product loaded with carcinogens in a handy flip-top box. how. sick.

and much like the movie, i'm finding it hard to keep my focus here. because this is bigger than me, and i want to do something, and i'm not really sure where to start. well, i suppose thinking about it and talking about it is a good place to start. step two is cutting myself from the wage-slave mentality. just following orders was not good enough for the nazis, so how can i justify that it's good enough for me. if i'm not working on the solution, i'm part of the problem, and that's a fact.

unfortunately, i still do need a paycheck. but it's high time i get my heart and work more aligned.

my mission, should i choose to accept it, and all that...

part four

2006-04-14T00:41:00.000-07:00

part three is "down by the river" (below)

... I lean against the railing, head hanging upside-down, and feel my face flush as the blood rushes to my head. Ahh, life...

I see a vision of my childhood, my parents fighting, my brothers making fun of me, my parents hugging, my brothers protecting me from bullies. I remember my oldest brother coming home from school, my mother and I sitting next to the pool at our apartment, and him running and jumping in in a cannonball. I remember the time at the barber shop when my mother accidentally hit me in the head with the lit end of her cigarette.

Smile.

And when my parents divorced, how my father just disappeared from my life. My brother did his best to fill those shoes, but he's only four years my elder...

I remember my mother's boyfriends throughout the years, and how I think she hoped one would fill in where my dad left off.

You really should smile.

Elementary school, middle school, high school, and the different houses. Moving from school to school, being asked if we were military brats because most people don't move that much. But never really moving that far away, just far enough to lose contact with the old. Establish new roots, make new friends, lather, rinse, and repeat. I watched as my brothers rebelled, then, inevitably and to a lesser extent, followed in their footsteps. The Cure helped me forge my identity, all those black clothes and the creepers. I remember being so determined to start smoking that when I got nauseous from the menthols, I decided it was the menthols that were bad and switched to non-menthols. Smoking mom's butts out of her ashtray and convincing my brothers to buy me smokes (they were reluctant, but I was a baby-faced 15-year-old who wasn't afraid to pull out the hypocrite card when the situation called for it--oh yeah, they smoked too).

That's more like it.

I remember that girl, the one who took my virginity. And the one who should have. And the one who, in hindsight probably not as maliciously as it felt, ripped my heart out and shattered any confidence I thought I had.

As the harshest Hendrix solo throbs in my head.

I remember the ones that got away. Because I felt unworthy, and I pushed; and when they tried to fight my fighting I only pushed harder, got mean, got angry, because they had to be faking their care. "What's wrong with you that you even give a shit? You can't care about me..."

I lift my head and tears fall down my cheeks.

Man, are you ok?

"Why do you even fucking care?! Just leave me alone, just go away... you can't help. I don't want your fucking pity! I don't want your help!"

And, invariably, they did leave. And there I was, left to dwell on what an unloveable ass I was, the prophecy self fulfilling because I wouldn't let it go any other way. "Why don't you care? What's so wrong with me that nobody cares?"

And I lived my life, went to college, got my degree. Here and there I'd have short relationships with exactly the wrong type of woman, because we all have needs, and there's always sex when you can't find love... I smoked a lot of weed and cigarettes, and drank, but not too much with the booze; dope didn't leave me physically ill the next day. Things were kind of hazy in those days. I partook in hallucinogens on rare occasions. Had some really good times, I think. But honestly don't remember many of them. "Are you sure that was me," I'd ask old friends as they recount something I said or did. And they'd say "sure," but how am I supposed to trust some pothead's recollection over my... own... Shit.

And so I moved a thousand miles from home, tried to put down roots in another town. How do you do that? I still don't know, but I couldn't stand being so comfortable and so miserable at the same time. If no one else is gonna put a fire under my ass, I'll do it myself.

So here I am, jobless, broke, a thousand miles from home without even a running car to go back.

I think he's crazy.

I don't think so.

I think we should go.

Well, I've lost the comfort part, but it seems the misery's followed.

You look like you could use a friend. Hello?

I find myself sitting in pigeon shit against the guardrail, hands covering my wet face, and I feel my shirt being tugged on for some reason. I swing with all my might at the air, miss that soft target, and connect with the metal railing. Startled, I jump to my feet and scream "Ah shitmotherfuckgoddamn! What the holymotherfuckinlordsweetjesusphilosophize! Ohmyfuckinggod, owowowowowow."

"Whoa, hey, easy there big fellow. Sorry to startle you. I'm Rebecca. What's your name?"

down by the river

2006-04-13T00:28:00.000-07:00

let's see, where was i? this is part 3 of part 2 of something i started recently. and part 2 has a link to part 1. part reality, mostly fiction.

The old Korean lady at the convenience store knows me. She's watched me go from bright-eyed and healthy to the depressed gaunt figure I am today. I ask for a pouch of Top tobacco.

"$1.43" she says.

I pull out the dollar in my pocket and say it's all I got. She accepts my dollar and tells me that I don't look so good.

"No, it's been a rough one. Interviewed for a job, that didn't go so well, car broke down, you know..."

"It's hard. Economy no good. Everybody's hurting. If you need anything, I want to help. I live in apartment above this store... if you want..." she trailed off. I think my face may have betrayed my state of mind.

"No, that's ok. I mean, thank you for the offer. I just... I mean, I'll figure it out. It's temporary."

She nodded.

"Well, take care."

I walk out of the store, sit on the curb and roll myself a smoke. I go to light it only to find my lighter is dead. Fuuuucck. I go back into the store and ask for a book of matches. The old Korean lady hands me two and gives me a smile of kindness and pity. I thank her, leave the store, light my cigarette and head to the river.

My mouth tastes like I imagine ass to taste.

Walking down Morrison in the sticky muggy afternoon, cars zooming past at a frantic pace, the rumble of buses and semis, the old brick buildings of a hundred years or more standing still as I walk past. My backpack is holding my t-shirt against my sweaty skin, creating exaggerated sweat stains. I move past bums and business people, service workers, strippers, hookers. We're all hookers in some way, but we all already knew that, didn't we? It's cliche anymore. Selling ourselves, or our skills, all for the almighty dollar so we can feel better about ourselves. Replacing "real" fulfillment (whatever the hell that means) with material fulfillment... and then calling ourselves whores, but not doing anything about it.

Dense. The buildings and trees seem to be competing for space more and more the closer to the river you get. Man's and nature's industries at odds til only one is left standing. If I had any money it'd be on nature.

I work my way across the Morrison bridge to the other side of the river. This side, the east side, my side, is the industrial side. I need to get to the park over on the west side. Or, well, I want to...

Arterial the way the highway and the Morrison bridge interconnect and push traffic to and fro on its never-ending way. Not much of a pedestrian bridge, the way Burnside is, but it'll do... and I'll have to remember to take Burnside home. I overshoot 1st and 2nd, like I always do, and walk up 3rd a few blocks before heading back east to the park.

A man without front teeth b-lines to me and as he opens his mouth I say, "can you spare some change?" He says, "um," and I walk on past. Even when you got nothing everyone wants a piece...

And I arrive...

A cool wind blows down the river making the park a good 10 degrees cooler than the rest of the city. Boats and jet-skiers dance a simple but beautiful dance, displacing water, creating waves. A couple, not more than a month or so into their relationship by the looks of it, lean over the railing, hand in hand, laughing, flirting, caressing, kissing. One of those things you appreciate when you have someone, but despise when you're all alone.

I lean against the railing, head hanging upside-down, and feel my face flush as the blood rushes to my head. Ahh, life...

to be continued...

in the beginning

2006-04-11T19:35:00.000-07:00

In the beginning, there was nostradumass. A nice alter-ego if ever there was one, but somewhat disheartening when you think of the self-deprecating nature of referring to one's self as a "dumass" all the time. And with all the baggage of signing in as a dumb ass came an urge to break away from that persona. And so, faithful, and hopefully some new, readers, we break the figurative champagne bottle on the hull of the boat of insider tirades. I hope not to hold back the way I once did, consciously or unconsciously, and I hope you find this blog to be an improvement on the previous one... this should be fun...

Anyway, welcome. I hope you enjoy your stay...

The blog starts... now?