The Window Is Getting Fixed Tomorrow.

Portland Police non-emergency line: Non-emergency.

Me: Well, I'm not sure how to put this . . .

PoPo: What is it you need?

Me: Well, there's a hobo doing something gross outside my window.

PoPo: What does "something gross" mean?

Me: Jerking off.

PoPo: Something gross?

Me: Yes. Jerking off. If I had to guess.

PoPo: Is he by himself?

Me: Probably. I only heard one voice. Ew, I hope he's alone.

PoPo: How do you know what he's doing?

Me: I don't. I mean, I didn't go down there and look. But he's grunting and yelling "Yeah! YEAH!" It sounds like jerking off. You asked.

PoPo: Name. Number. Address.

Me: I've heard it twice. It's gross. It's almost 1:00 a.m.

PoPo: (Not impressed. Obviously having to deal with shit like this all the time.) We'll send someone out.

And they did. I heard the cop talking to him (I'm actually fairly certain he knew the hobo by name), telling him to go home. Er, leave this location, as jerker-offer most likely does not have a home in which to jerk it.

But he's at it again. As I write this.

I should add that I am on the 2nd floor and have very sturdy locks. I am not concerned for my safety. Neither should you be. I just want him to shut the fuck up.

I should also add that I'm glad I have not sent this link to my mother. She would flip.

This is why the previous post is important. YOU COULD BE THIS MAN! THIS COULD BE YOUR LIFE!

You can't be mad at me.

If you have ever:

• posted an "engagement album" of you and your dude holding hands in the sand
• made public your baby's vomiting habits
• published a bible quote in the newsfeed
• repeatedly posted updates about your annoying political views
• taken six quizzes back-to-back and chosen to publish all of them

I can almost guarantee that you are hidden from my newsfeed and that unless you show up in the little list of friends on my profile, I may never look at yours again.

Of course, I'm aware that if any of the above applies to you that you are most likely not reading this. If you are, get a clue.

Rain is here now and from what I can tell, not going away.

The Butthole Surfers were amazing.

I'm really close to surpassing a pack a day.

A Word About Time Travel.

Barack won a Nobel today. I don't really have a problem with it. I like the guy.

That's not the issue. The issue is by the time I woke up, had my coffee and checked facebook, the entire east coast already knew about it. It's noon there, but it's 9 am here.

This seems to me like some sort of weird time warp I can't quite understand. While the president's winng peace prizes back east, on the west coast we're all asleep.

While Michael Jackson's eating handfulls of pills in the middle of the afternoon, back east we were getting ready to eat dinner, some of us upset by the news, but also upset that The Simpsons were going to be interrupted with the media frenzy.

Things still happen at the same time. Barack didn't win the nobel 3 hours earlier, he just won it while we were all in bed. Way in bed.

On a related note, I hid lots of people from my newsfeed today. Someone wrote "In my world, Charels [sic] Manson would win the nobel before Obama. What is this country thinking?"

We'll just leave it at that. It's still too early here to flesh out all the dumbass details of this comment.

Fortune Cookie of Destiny

I have started to question my life goals. Publishing has a lot to do with sales and marketing and distribution and shit that I really, honestly could care nothing about.

This little venture has left me way in debt and I am very nervous about that.

My adviser has pissed me off more times than an adviser should piss you off. And it's week two.

My classes are full of sci-fi young adult lit dweebs who love (LOVE!) to hear themselves talk. Every class has one of them. You know the kind I'm talking about. The kind you picture stabbing in the eye with a gel pen? Well I've got two in each class. At least two.

But! BUT!

Today my fortune cookie had two fortunes in it! TWO FORTUNES! This is surely a sign. Things like this do not happen every day. (Two fortunes!)

But there's more. The fortunes read (in this order):

"You will have gold pieces by the bushel."

and!

"Nothing can keep you from reaching your goals. Do it!"

I'm not shitting you, I walked out of that place inspired. My fortune cookies were right. I will have gold pieces by the bushel! (I fucking better. Cost me enough to get here.) Notice that the two go hand in hand. If I follow my dreams (which consist of only editing, no marketing, no sales, no bullshit PR and promo stuff), I will have a bushel of gold pieces.

And so I have to take a couple management classes? What's the big deal, crybaby? It really is valuable information that I need to know.

And so my loony adviser gave me bum advice that ended up costing me 500+ dollars? It really is my fault, in the end. I should have taken more caution when adding credits. What's 500 bucks compared to a bushel of gold pieces?

Thank you, cookie of dreams and hope!

And, the university library only stays open till 11? What kind of shit is that?

You'll all be pleased to know that I haven't lost my rage. I still hate pretty much everyone.

The surly waitress who took forever to bring my check.

The skank talking much too loud about her noodles at the table across from me.

The guy who didn't wipe the wand of the milk steamer after making my latté.

The dirty freaks with their fur protest signs.

The Asian couple making out in the middle of the sidewalk.

And most of all, that queer in the front row of my Intro to Pub class who thinks he knows every single fucking thing there is to know.

Who Cares.

Last night I had a dream that was moving to Sydney, Australia. I had a robot dog (but I'm pretty sure it breathed) that I almost forgot in the trunk, then me and the flight attendants had to wrestle him into storage so that they could put him in the animal compartment under the plane.

I was running late and I kept forgetting everything.

A Word About Homeless People.

There are lots of them here. I've heard that Seattle has the highest homeless rate, and Portland second, but I imagine that California and Florida have us beat. I mean, who wants to sit on the street corner in the rain all day? Your cardboard house would melt.

Unemployment rates are at about 11.8% (for the metro area alone) and counting.

Sometimes it's hard to tell who is homeless, and who is hip. Lots of kids out here look like the anarchists back home look, which is funny if you think about it. How does the anarchist in Athens, Ohio know that the anarchists in Portland, Oregon are cutting chunks of their hair out with safety scissors, or letting one piece grow really long so that they can wrap it in string?

I've seen more on-the-street-drug deals go down out here than I have in my whole life elsewhere. Usually, of course, it's the street people doing business. You can be pretty sure that it's crack, meth, or some other nasty hobo drug I have no interest in.

You would think they would get creative with their signage. There's stiff competition in the Portland hobo market, and in order for you to get that stranger's pocket change you've got to be on top of your game. But mostly it's your standard. "Homeless, jobless, please help." Or, "Laid off by Whole Foods, spare some for a friend in need," etc, etc.

If I were homeless my sign would say, "I just need enough to get to Kinko's and print a couple copies of my résumé. Then I won't bother you anymore." I think it's a moneymaker.

Title?

I didn't think a to do list could get so long. Goddamn, and it's Tuesday.

It's early here.

My family sent me some monies last night. Much appreciated. Very grateful.

I've been working on this one big post about Portland. Then I deleted it and started over. Then I deleted that and started over again.

But I don't know why I bother. No one's reading this. Not even you, Dan.

Just started this baby last night.

These will get continually less and less self-involved, I promise.

A nightmare of a book, but impossible to put down. I can't imagine a more original mind that the one that can create a world like the world in this book. Of course, she's from Portland.

Katherine Dunn says Portlanders live at least three lives. She, for example, is a writer, a radio personality, and a boxing commentator.

Three lives! I love it! I'd be a writer, an editor, and a master seamstress.

The thing about Portland is that it makes one feel as if this is completely possible. It's a place bursting at its seams with art, music, film, nature, and people. People are very involved in things, and understandably so. How anyone could ever be bored here is beyond me. There is always something going on. There is too much to see and to do. Not enough time to fit it all in. You need three lives to be able to experience it all. No, you need nine, like a cat.

It's exciting! It's new and yeah, it's rainy but fuck it! Who cares? I'm from Ohio. (Oh, Ohio! Feels so far away now.) Everything is new and fresh. It's young and it's hip and there is potential to do great things, I can feel it. There is something to work with here.

My am inspired! I am bursting with creativity! I want to paint, to découpage things and make collages and write and read! To contribute to the creative flow of this community!

It is exactly what I was looking for. This is what was lacking in Ohio, and this is why I came here.

Also. . .

I felt bad about hating on Glee, so I thought I'd offer you up something that I do like.

Really, really funny.

Hello, Pittsburgh!

What the hell is going on out there? I read about the protests on BBC.com, something about the G20 summit.

Of course. The fucking anarchists. I should have known.

I shouldn't be getting into this right now. I haven't had my coffee yet.

There. Let's rage.

First of all, a word about the cause. These 20 politicians, they say, are responsible for the serious worldwide economic collapse. They are pissed off that these countries, the very same ones they (we?) hold responsible, are gathering in their city to fix the mess they've made. Or to say that they're thinking about ways to maybe someday, eventually, if the circumstances are right and they have enough money to do so, have another couple of meetings to talk about what they can maybe do to fix this shit. At some point.

http://www.organizepittsburgh.org/

So the anarchists put out a call of action on their Pburgh anarchy website. (See above.) I read it, and for a second I was impressed. There were only a few obscure grammar and punctuation errors (mistakes anyone could make, really), and for the most part, it seemed that this was a group of people who felt passionately about their motives. Who were fed up and pissed off and were gonna do something about it, as opposed to just sitting around bitching and moaning like everyone else (I mean you, Fox news) is doing.

But wait! What's going on here? What happens after the collapse of the infrastructure?

I once knew an anarchist who knew, I felt, what he was talking about. What it was all about. Small-scale, local, DIY-type government, where the government is the people (the real, actual citizens) and vice-versa. Yeah. That all sounds great when you and six of your friends are squatting in a tent you set up in someone's backyard, cooking vegan meals over a fire and publishing hand-drawn pamphlets at Kinko's.

But let's think about that on a national level. They don't really believe that this would work. (Do they?) Jesus, we can't even keep our shit together as it is. How can a whole nation, especially this nation, be in charge of itself? Nothing would get accomplished. Ever. People would sit around and scream at each other like in those town hall meetings. We'd kill each other. Then what? What's the jail situation like? Court? Trial? And who's to say who goes to jail and for how long? Do we abandon the jury system? Will there be any sort of punishment at all? Or just some koombayah-shake-hands-and-say-you're-sorry-type shit?

What happens to the media? Actually, never mind. Fuck the media, good riddance. But what about schools? Churches? Traffic laws? Credit histories? Banks? Taxes? (Oh, think of the taxes!) Mail systems? Social security? World trade organizations? The military? The millions of government jobs, both evil and nonevil? Insurance companies? (Though, once again, good riddance.)

If you are reading this and you have answers to these questions, even abstract answers, please please get ahold of me. I would really, seriously, like to know. Because the kinds of changes they're proposing are outrageous. Actually, I'm not really sure what they're proposing. Some sort of communal interest at heart, need-based organization and making sure people's needs are met and. . . So what happens after we dismantle?

I should say, though, that I'm glad someone is actually doing something. I don't agree with their motives, and I really really hope they don't get their shit accomplished, but I gotta support the dissent, man. The dissent. The actual organization of people who are pissed off, who actually got off their asses and tried to do something about it, even if they did end up tear-gassed and jailed.

Hey, I hate the government, too. Everyone hates the government. It's the American way. I hope soon you all become as jaded and unenthused as I have become. It's an easier life. And plus, I've never been tear-gassed or beaten by cops in riot gear. It's a win-win.

Or maybe. . .

I just get my kicks hating on stuff that everyone else likes. Maybe I'm doomed to a miserable, hate-filled life. I'll die young of stomach complications while everyone else is at home on their overpriced couches watching network sitcoms with their husbands and children and cats.

Glee Club Always Was For Losers

Everyone's raving (just RAVING!) about some new Fox show called Glee, so of course, I have issues with it.

First. I hate the name. "Glee" is a very, very uncomfortable word. It's ugly, phonetically, but I also am uncomfortable with what it represents. I picture giggling little girls, or happy pigs rolling in mud. I know, I know, it's about a high school glee club, you say. You may feel the name is appropriate. Well I cannot say out loud, "Oh my God! It's Wednesday! Gotta get home and catch Glee!" No way.

I should note here that I can't help but feel like Fox is aware of the stupidness of the word, and is using it for some sort of irony, or perhaps kitsch. Yes, kitsch. That must be the word I'm looking for. But still.

This was the initial reason why the show bothered me. But when I saw that everyone on facebook was watching it, I figured it'd be one of those things that I made fun of for a long time, that I resisted, but then in the end would wind up proven wrong about. Like Harry Potter. (I still carry around a lot of shame for denying Harry in the beginning. If I could I would apologize to him.)

So I watched it last night. I streamed the first episode. And I was right. Dumb name, dumb show. Sure, I got some mild laughs (namely from that lesbian cheerleading coach), but overall I thought it was just another mediocre Fox sitcom. Most jokes felt contrived. Most characters made me want to spit in their fictional faces (like the teacher's wife. Ugh.) and as far as a high school goes, completely unbelievable, and even if I could believe it, why the fuck would I ever want to relive those four years of my life? That's just the thing about high school. Everyone thinks that shit is better, more important, more defining, more meaningful than it actually is. So I guess in that way, the show's got it going on.

Yeah, yeah, it's real inspiring and all, seeing these teens (or twentysomethings) reject the social boundaries of high school and follow their passions regardless. Yawn. Or I just loved the part when the teacher rejects his wife's dreams and pursues his own, even if he does only make 20,000 a year doing it. Bore.

But I will say that that little redhead teacher's got a killer sense of style.

Now, now. It's the pilot, you say. They're still working out their kinks. Too fucking bad. If you can't write a show that keeps my interest the first time, I'm out. I've got more important shit to do and watch. (Will someone PLEASE tell me how to find the first season of True Blood online?) I gave you a chance to impress me, and you blew it.

However, I see that the gays are behind this one hundred percent. This, if anything, may cause me to reconsider.

Mixed Bizness

I like it here. It's young, clean, and friendly, as far as I can tell. People say "excuse me" when they bump into you, or almost bump into you. Cars always wave you the right of way, and people say hello and smile to you when you pass them on the street.

Maybe Northwesterners lack the vehement rage of the Midwest. Makes sense. Feeling trapped? Head to the coast (an hour west), or maybe to the mountains (an hour east). San Fran is five hours south, and Seattle is three hours north. There's no snow here. Maybe that has something to do with it.

But here's the kicker. I watched Stranger Than Paradise last night, some weird Jim Jarmusch movie about a road trip I'm not sure I understood. Point is that they drive from New York to Cleveland, and then down to Florida, trips I myself have made many times, but Oregonians probably have never. Their road trips are probably to California, Washington, probably Idaho, Arizona or Nevada. Most of these people have likely never been to Kentucky, West Virginia or even the Carolinas. Boy, they don't know what they're missing. I'd like to find a nice gay man to take home to Ohio. Introduce him to my parents. Take him around the Not-So-Midwest. Show him Cleveland and the Ohio Valley. Expose him to hillbillies. Maybe take him hunting.

Here's how it works in my neighborhood:

The Willamette river divides Portland into east and west. I live on the west side of the river. Burnside Street divides the city into north and south, and I live about 500 feet south of Burnside, putting me in southwest Portland. North of me is the Alphabet District, and two blocks to the west is Washington Park.

Today I'm finding Powell's. I hope that I can do it by public transpo, and I'm all beat up from walking so much yesterday. Also, I'd like to get to the river, as I haven't seen it since my Yugoslavian cabbie drove me over on my way from the airport. I'd also like to get to the other side of it, because I hear it's cool over there too.

Am still jet-lagged, but it's getting better. Today I woke up at 7:30 instead of 6:30. The rest of my stuff is getting here on Friday. Only two more nights on the air mattress.

Is this boring you? Did you even read this far? I know, I know. I'll step up my game soon. This post was dull, even for me and I wrote it. Sorry.

Damn, Those Are Some Big Ass Pine Trees

I made it.

On the plane I had a window seat. Both flights. The lady at Expedia asked me if I had a preference, and I thought it'd be fun to peek out and see the landscape. You know, like a little kid. Turns out I had to pee a lot and everyone in my row had to move every time.

But that's not the point. The point is, I saw fingernail chewings in the window. I know that they were fingernails because:

1) They looked exactly like fingernails

2) There were five of them

3) I could see chew marks

I couldn't let it go the whole flight. How (HOW?) did they get there? We're talking about heavy-duty double paned windows here. Airplane windows. You know what they're like. The clippings were inbetween the two panes, pressed up against the plastic (plastic, right?) just on the other side of me. Taunting me.

It wasn't until we were over the Rockies that it hit me. The hole!! That little, tiny hole that seems to serve no purpose at all. I hope that you're with me, that you know what I mean. I always assumed that there was some scientific reasoning behind it, pressure, temperature, aerodynamicness, whatever. Turns out it's for depositing your chewed fingernails. Who knew.

My allergies are out of control.

More to come. I would hate to think that you clicked this link thinking you'd be reading all about my exciting new life, and instead got some shitty story about fingernail chewings.

But I gotta figure out where this campus is.

I don't roll on shabbos.

So, I'm getting really pumped about Oregon. Last week I was nervous, and I've been thinking a lot about how cool my family is, and how I must be crazy to want to leave them so far behind. Lots of people have sucky families, and I have a really great one. But they will always be there, and my youthful, adventurous spirit won't. So I'm off.

I thought to get even more into the spirit I would research famous Oregonians. I was so sure there'd be so many, having heard such great things about the places and faces of The Beaver State. Well.

First, of course, we have Matt Groening of Simpsons genius. I've known about this one for a while. I know that some of his characters have Portland street and/or attraction monikers. There's Flanders Street, Lovejoy Fountain. I think a Nelson in there somewhere too.

But that's about as cool as it gets. Raymond Carver, father of the American short story, is from some place called Clatskanie, and Amad Rashad is a Portland native. Beverly Cleary is a Beaver, too.

Rounding out our star-studded list are Sally Struthers and Lindsay Wagner. One made famous to our generation by the South Park episode "Starvin' Marvin," and the other was The Bionic Woman. Lindsay Wagner also makes me think of Nate Hayes' Sleep Number bed, Nick Kreager and his chupacabra, and the straight-to-VHS-movie, Buckaroo, all of which means nothing to you if you didn't work at Perk's at any time from 2006-2008. But the way my social circle goes, if you're reading this, you probably did.

Although my list was somewhat of a letdown, I'm not discouraged. I learned that Twilight was filmed in Oregon (Ooh, dreamweaver!), and I watched The Goonies save their hometown of Astoria, Oregon the other day on TBS. Or maybe it was G4.

So I say to you, Sally Struthers, I am honored to join your club. I hope you will welcome me with giant, open, waiting arms.

Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me

I drive a car that was manufactured in the days before CDs were even a standard means of listening to music, so I plug in one of those cheap cassette adapters. One end goes in the deck, the other into my iPod. The thing's all messed up now, it shorts and it doesn't play right, and Wal-Mart is like, 20 minutes away and I don't feel like making the trip, so I've been listening to some tapes I've collected over the years. One is Madonna's Erotica (I also have an audiobiography of her, so I'll pop that in from time to time, too), one is Gang of Four, and the other is Tango In the Night, quite possibly the worst Fleetwood Mac album ever made.

But I also have a copy of Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me by The Cure, and this one I like a lot. I plan to update it to mp3 format so I can listen to in the real world, not just in the Volvo. Here's a photo of Robert Smith at nighttime.



Aside from rewinding tapes, I've spent my summer so far reading transcript, swimming, and riding my bike. Also, I'm back at the Main Street Café, waiting tables and cooking food three days a week. Let's just say it's been motivational.

Also have started a pretty major writing project with JRahn. It's in the works, and I'd hate to reveal too much, but stay tuned and maybe you'll get a peek.

It's late now, and I have to be up early for work. Those pancakes don't cook themselves. I'm going to hope for no nightmares after that Robert Smith Google image search.

Buenas noches.

Bingo

Found it. My username was "twostripsobacon," and you gotta love that.

http://twostripsobacon.livejournal.com/

Reading this was fun. There was some stuff I'd forgotten about, including a little trip to Argentina I'd once planned . . .

Also, I capitalize again. I figure that it's pretty important that I do so if I'm going to be somebody's editor.

So there. Maybe it's not such a new pair of shoes after all.

je blog.

A new blog just feels like a new pair of shoes, does it not? Glad that you have it, but also ready for them to be broken in. They can be almost uncomfortable at first.

I'm gonna put shit in here. Lots of entries and photos and stuff. I say that, but really it's more that I hope I have time to do it.

I really want everyone to be able to keep up on my super-rad new life, so I'll try to keep it funky fresh. That way you'll all want to tune in from time to time to see all the cool stuff I've been doing.

But I'm not in Oregon yet. I'm still in Licking County, Ohio, and there's really not much to tell there.

Sadly, I think that my livejournal Europe blog is lost forever. I can't remember my username, and I can't access the email account I used, as I graduated over 12 months ago (seriously?) and OU shut down my webmail. Sigh. I would like to have it, and be able to find a way to merge the two into one really sporadic but really well-traveled blog.

I'll see what I can do. Until then, stay sweet.