fall be kind

I made an important discovery recently... behind the stack of VHS tapes under the TV is ANOTHER stack of VHS tapes. We're talking Robin Hood: Men In Tights, Addams Family, Raising Arizona, and more. A lot more. Needless to say, I've spent a lot of time on the couch since I uncovered that buried treasure yesterday.

In seasonal news, I still don't have a ride home for Thanksgiving, but considering my knack for making things happen, I'm not gonna sweat it.

With that being said, anyone driving from Portland to Seattle on Wednesday evening?

I found out today that starting next month I'll only be working at the Hawthorne Albina Press. I'm pretty bummed, but there are enough pros to this scenario to keep me from complaining; for example, a five minute bike ride compared to a 30 minute one... in the winter. This will hopefully allow me to step down from my (self appointed) role of "wettest butt in town".

Get a slice of this: I can't stop listening to Tinariwen's new album Imidiwan and the very recently released Animal Collective EP, Fall Be Kind. I suggest you get hooked on the two as well.

That's all mah news. That I feel like sharing.

shake the bottle

It's that time again--it's that choose-to-go-home-and-light-candles-instead-of-party-with-your-friends-time (and-pretend-you-don't-hang-out-because-they-don't-invite-you-but-really-you've-got-seasonal-social-anxiety-and-don't-want-to-see-anyone). But I ain't complainin'; this autumnal unrest couldn't come at a better time. You see, I, for the first time since August 2008, have my own room!!! So ya know what? When I want to go home and lay in bed listening to spooky orchestral music and tree branches banging on my window, I CAN! And I do. And I have.

Things just keep getting better over here at Sillytown Heights... not all things, but lots of them, and mostly the important ones. I'm growing much more comfortable and skilled in my position as a barista at a highly acclaimed cafe, I know people now and not just the ones I knew before I moved, I've got a house and a bedroom and a door and a Kathryn across the hall, and I got an I Saw U last week. Whatch out, Portland. I mean business.

My Native American shrine?

got my mind set on mew

Yesterday I saw A Serious Man. Going to movies by yourself? Fuck yeah. Last night I saw Earth at Berbati's. Hypnotizing? Tranced.

Oh and I dreamt that I had to spend the night in jail, and as a result ended up with a tattoo of a Boston terrier on my arm, the caption reading, "We don't use condoms in jail". Pretty big dream-bummer.

Don't even get me started on the days leading up to yesterday. I'll just say this: I'm pretty good at karaoke. And barfing.

One more thing:
http://www.amblingalp.com/

those were the good old day

I'm in a funny mood; I'm getting nostalgic for things that don't exist in my life right now... like clean clothes, like a top sheet, like a cupboard full of my own dishes and a bedroom with a door. In essence, I guess I miss having a home. It's been since last August that I've been packing and slightly unpacking and repacking. For the most part I suppose I've been shacking up in other people's spaces... a futon in Scotland, Jimmy's flat in Paris, my old bedroom, an air mattress in Angie's house, John's room in Portland, the cabin any chance I get--and that's all well and good, but I like my own space. I like being a host. I like having my belongings accessible and not packed in boxes or spilling out of storage bins. I like my cups and saucers, guys. I like having my clothes on hangers.

But I digress. I love my job, I love my friends, and my finger has finally grown back. Aside from a recent mash up with the Max tracks downtown, I'm in pretty good shape. Next week I move to Kathryn's house in Southeast, and I will make my first attempt at having a home and a room that might feel like my own in Portland. Onward and upward.

Oh, and you know what else I miss? All my fucking friends. Where are you guys? Emily, Dave, Jimmy, Karl, Little Steph, Ciara, Nick? I think about you all--all the time. Just sayin'.

dude soup

I don;'t know what I was tbhinking when I took the bandage off of my hand tonight... That maybe it would have healed a bit? I don't know. I spent all day telling customers that it wasn't as bad as it looked. I started to believe it.

WEll, it's kind of bad. You know, stuck my finger in a grinder kind of bad. I didn't lose the finger... just shaved the thip ooff. Just had to be rushed off crying to the chiropractor across the street who cleaned and bandaged my raw, throbbing flesh wbhile a coworker covered my shift. It'll heal, but in the meantime I have to type like this. Soprry.

I haven't blogged in FOREVER. I lost the internet. I've been working and biking and playing, sometimes napping, but mostly the former. This is my last month of sbletting and I'll be moving into my very own room in November. I'm beyond stoked to be successfully livibng and working in Portlan d. Aside from the finger mishap, I've been having incredible luck. I'm on mu way to being a kickass barista, I've saved up enough tips to buy a newer, faster bike, and I'm totally gonna ask a dude on a date this week. Oh, and I love my friends.

Typing hurts, nerves are angry and throbby. I'll have the net next month, expec tot see me around more often.

head to fun

I'm really lagging. Too much fun. Not enough time for complete sentences. I work a lot, I ride a lot, I sleep in piles with my friends. Really glad I moved to Portland.

first things first

I moved to Portland last night.

And I've already accomplished quite a bit.

Last night I cleansed John's room and subtly transformed it into my own, watched Zardoz and Wet Hot American Summer on a projector at Mt. Trashmore (formerly Trash Mountain), ate a tofu sandwich, and met two people who recognized Daryl, but did not know who I was. (We're on our way, old boy).

This morning I woke up, called back the regional manager at Albina Press (who called me for a pre-interview while I was in Hawaii), set up a meeting with her, ate breakfast with Kathryn and a baby at Paradox, headed to the aforementioned cafe where I chatted, showed my skills on the machine, and impressed them enough to have an interview with the owner on Friday, went on a bike ride with Ben Sellon, sat down for coffee at Tiny's, biked back to Northeast for dinner with Angie and Sean, came home to have a cigarette with one of my new roommates, Luke--also a transplant from Seattle who just felt inclined to relocate--and now I wait for Sean to meet me so we can go enjoy $1 vegan corn dogs and $1 PBR tallboys at Hungry Tiger Too with all our friends. I'm exhausted and stinky and ecstatic.

If I get this job at Albina, I am saying it right now and here: Magic is real. MARK. MY. WORDS.


But despite all this good news and hope, I do miss Seattle and all the little dudes I left behind. I'll see you on Friday, though. Aya is turning 23!!!

alls i'm sayin is

I'm pretty excited. I'm not gonna lie.

This week, for the first time, I visited Portland knowing that I would soon be living there--and it felt great. Really great. Like, I-know-I've-made-the-right-decision great. I drove down with Aya, Nathan, and Nick, and we rolled into town just in time to buy tickets for the Nurses record release show at Holocene (which was incredible). We took photobooth pictures, ate poutine at the carts, I slept on Kathryn and Miliken's couch, woke up and took Tom's dog on a bike ride, ate breakfast with Kathryn at Junior's, embarrassed myself on Hawthorne by talking loudly about someone standing next to me, ate delicious hippy chow at Whitney's, sipped some Stumptown mofe at Laurelhurst, met my new roommates, and drove all the way back to Seattle. It was an eventful 23.5 hours if ya ask me.

Now I've got t-minus 30 hours until I go to Hawaii. Imagine that. Ten days on the beach, three days to get my shit together, then one month of sleeping in John's bed. Who knows what's going to happen after that.

John and James of Nurses.

Oh and did you read their Pitchfork review? Awesome.