Rain. Sun. Spring. Portland.
I am deeply, madly in love with this moment, with this place, with the people in it and the hope they create.
I know this is my true home. I know, because a simple sunbreak, standing on MLK Blvd, makes my heart swell with joy and love for a place, for a name on a map. A name that is more than the sum of its letters, much like the place is more than the sum of its residents.
Portland. A place full of possibilities.
I love this place.
Remember a while back when I said I was creepily high on Google search for “surviving hanging”, and had an inordinate number of hits for that exact topic? Right? Well, not any more, my friends. Not anymore. Apparently web searches have gotten all cerebral and literate – or are at least making an attempt at it. Kudos, interwebs! Read stuff! And I’m here to help!
Lately, many of my search hits revolve around two particular phrases which I’ve used in my blog posts. I tend to do that occasionally, and rarely do I ever think to actually tell you from whence those particular snippets of juicy eruditeness originate. So I thought, since people are hitting my site for this info, well, I wouldn’t want them to be disappointed, right? I know how disappointed I’d be if say, I was searching for the lyrics to Hava Nagila, and all I could find was some blog post that said “He handed me a drink, and then I got all Hava Nagila on his ass” without any explanation of what the heck a hava nagila is, not to mention why it would get on some guy’s ass. And I’m still lyric-less.
(And incidentally – here’s the lyrics to Hava Nagila.)
So be disappointed no more, interwebs! Here’s the back story to the phrases:
The first one that I keep getting hits for is “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.” I paraphrased the first line from this poem by Elizabeth Barret Browning in my Valentine’s Day Crawl post. Appropriate, no? Anyway, the poem is #43 from her most famous collection, Sonnets from the Portuguese. From Wikipedia: “By far the most famous poem from this collection, with one of the most famous opening lines in the English language, is number 43”. Hey, I have high standards. For another one of my favourite Victorian-era love poems, I gotta go with that randy, haggis-eating Scottish chap, Robert Burns:
O my Luve’s like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only Luve
And fare thee weel, awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.
The second search I noticed pinging my humble little blog is “I said GOOD DAY SIR. GOOD DAY!” which is the title for a blog post I wrote about being a bit miffed about some silly thing. Now that line comes pretty much straight from Gene Wilder’s lips in Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory. The full text:
Grandpa Joe: Mr. Wonka?
Willy Wonka: [pointedly ignoring them] I am extraordinarily busy, sir.
Grandpa Joe: [tentatively] I just wanted to ask about the chocolate – Uh, the lifetime supply of chocolate… for Charlie. When does he get it?
Willy Wonka: He doesn’t.
Grandpa Joe: Why not?
Willy Wonka: Because he broke the rules.
Grandpa Joe: What rules? We didn’t see any rules. Did we, Charlie?
Willy Wonka: [springs up from his chair, angrily] Wrong, sir! Wrong! Under section 37B of the contract signed by him, it states quite clearly that all offers shall become null and void if – and you can read it for yourself in this photostatic copy [grabs a magnifying glass and reads]
Willy Wonka: – “I, the undersigned, shall forfeit all rights, privileges, and licenses herein and herein contained,” et cetera, et cetera…”Fax mentis incendium gloria cultum,” et cetera, et cetera…”Memo bis punitor delicatum!”
[slams the magnifying glass down, shouts]
Willy Wonka: It’s all there, black and white, clear as crystal! You stole fizzy lifting drinks. You bumped into the ceiling which now has to be washed and sterilized, so you get *NOTHING*! You lose! Good day sir!
Grandpa Joe: [shocked] You’re a crook. You’re a cheat and a swindler! That’s what you are!
[angrily]
Grandpa Joe: How could you do a thing like this, build up a little boy’s hopes and then smash all his dreams to pieces? You’re an inhuman monster!
Willy Wonka: [shouts even louder] I said “Good day!”
Grandpa Joe: Come on, Charlie, Let’s get out of here. I’ll get even with him if its the last thing I’ll ever do. If Slugworth wants a gobstopper, he’ll get one.
Yeah I switched it a little bit. But the effect remains the same, no?
So there you have it. All the literary references my readers have been clamoring – yes CLAMORING! – for. Look out! Next I’m gonna get all Shakespearean and translate into modern terms the most excellent tips Polonius imparted to his son Laertes before he went out into the big blue world. Because you need that, right? And don’t think I can’t! And from now on, I’ll let you know where I gleaned my little tidbits of literary goodness, never fear. Go read, interwebs!
What are you waiting for? Go!!
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
For some reason, even though that first line from A Tale of Two Cities resonated in my young brain so loudly, I just couldn’t get into that book. Never did. I’m sure I read that first page at least a dozen times. Maybe I should try again. But this, dear interwebs, is A Tale of Three Bamboo. Or is it Bamboos? Whatever. Our story opens…
The Triff...er I mean Bamboo
Despite numerous warnings that I was insane to even contemplate the idea, I planted bamboo in my backyard. And not even the relatively safe kind, i.e. ‘clumping’ bamboo. No, I planted the ravenous, crawl into your house in the middle of the night and kill your pets kind of bamboo. The Day of the Triffids bamboo: timber bamboo.
(Side note: OMG! The BBC is going to film a new version of Day of the Triffids! W00t, I say. Wewt even.)
But on the other hand, this is the same kind of bamboo they make floors out of. And utensils. Gorgeous ones! Or at least that was the counter argument in my head when I was rationalizing this step in my Eternal Project. Seriously, everyone I talked to thought I was insane:
“And then, I’m gonna plant some bamboo along the fence here…”
“You’re going to plant bamboo?”
“Yeah. The big kind. Timber. Black, and Tiger. They’re so pretty!”
“You’re going to…plant. Bamboo. Willingly. In your backyard.”
“Um, yeah. Pretty much.”
“Do you KNOW what bamboo does??”
“Yes…I’ve taken precautionary steps.”
“Yes but…it’s crazy! It gets into EVERYTHING!”
“Yes, I know. Like I said, I’ve taken steps. Two sides are going to be surrounded in concrete, for starters!”
“Well…I still think you’re crazy for even considering it.”
“Thanks. Your concern is duly noted.”
That’s how most of my conversations went.
But I did it. It’s done. And so far, all my pets are still here. Or, well, they didn’t die of bamboo related injuries, at least.
I can’t say the same for my poor bamboo though.
I did my research, you know. Like I said, I surrounded the planting area on two sides with concrete. The other two sides, a foot and a half deep bamboo barrier, especially made for the task. I planted them in little mounds, so the runners would be easy to spot. I fertilized only the top six inches of soil or so, so the runners would stay close to the surface and be easy to maintain. I check all the runners twice a year, and trim the ones that are heading in the wrong directions.
I did not, however, protect them from my dog.
I started with 3 bamboo. Two black and one tiger, just like I wanted. (Interestingly, both are classified as Phyllostachys nigra.) Jessie and I drove waaaay out to Hillsboro to the Bamboo Garden Nursery (Yes, Jessie and I did meet Oggie the Bamboo Dog). We were driven around the woods in a golf cart by the nice and helpful bamboo guy, who helped us pick out two black bamboo and one tiger bamboo. We carefully drove them home, planted according to directions, watered and carefully watched over my new charges. Well, watched them except while I was at work.
I guess Jessie was still in her destructive stage, because it wasn’t long before one of the black bamboo was ripped out of the ground. And replanted. And ripped out again. And replanted again. And ripped out AGAIN. And replanted, but by this time, it was becoming clear that the poor thing had met its match. Eventually I had to admit that the plant was dead, and had now become a doggy chew toy.
Now, I have a fence around my bamboo. They’re probably safe at this point, but I’m not taking any chances. I have since replaced the unfortunate black bamboo with some free golden timber bamboo that I found on craigslist. One of my favorite things to do around this time is to look for all the new little bamboo shoots popping out of the ground, letting me know that my mission of creating a privacy screen between me and my neighbors is coming to fruition.
So far….nothing.
Sigh.
Grow faster, bamboo! FASTER!
Apparently my endless reserves of patience do not extend to plants. Or actually, weather. Because you know once the weather warms up for a couple weeks, those bamboo are going to be all crazy in yo face growing fiends. Unkillable. Unstoppable. With poisonous whip-like stingers.
Hmm…perhaps I should get a really big machete. You know, just in case. Plus, it gives me an excuse to go to Andy and Bax!
Stay tuned for the next chapter, wherein my bamboo start growing at a rate of 2.65 feet a minute for the entire summer, and I next complain that they’re growing too damn fast. Yay, gardening!
“I’m leaving.”
“Hmm?”, I replied. “Where are you going?” I feigned obliviousness. It’s a defense mechanism built out of hope that I was quite adept at using.
“No. I mean I’m leaving”, she said.
When you walk into the surf at the beach, and stand in the water, just ankle deep, you feel the immense power swirling at your feet. You’re just not in deep enough that it can really affect you, not yet. But it’s pulling you out to sea, out to where its power is stronger. I felt that power now, except this wasn’t the tide, it was fear. Swirling just at ankle level, and rising quickly. My heart skipped a beat.
“You mean…”
“Yes”, she interrupted. “I’ve taken the offer. I leave at the end of the month.”
I sighed, bracing myself for the discussion we had had so many times already. Tapping into the seemingly endless pools of patience I always managed to find at times like these.
“I thought we decided you’d wait until I could find a way…”, I started.
“No. I don’t want to wait anymore. I’m doing this for me. I’ll be back, but I need to go.”
Inside my mind, inside my heart, I heard a low rumbling. With every passing moment, the rumbling grew louder, more shrill. I recognized it; it was the sound of desperation. The sound I heard when I gazed into the dark abyss of loneliness that I knew so well. It was coming for me again. The sound surrounded me, as the fear lapped at my knees, slowly engulfing me. I faced that sound, faced the growing fear and what lay behind it, and firmed my resolve.
“Then,” I said, “you should go.”
The look of relief on her face spoke volumes, while I felt at once both pride and pain. Pain, from the agony of knowing that it was over, that I would never see her again. My skepticism would not allow that she spoke the truth that she’d be back; we both knew it was a lie, one for my benefit, and all the more stinging because I knew it. Pride, in knowing that I could let her go to follow her path, that I could stand fast and remain true to my beliefs in the face of such pain. I knew the loneliness that lay before me, and could still let her go.
But oh, how I hated the thought of being alone. What a fool I am, I thought. What a total fucking fool. A fool for love, and a coward in the face of loneliness, unable to walk away from love even when it’s all wrong. But now the struggle was over, the fight lost. Or was it?
It would be an end to the lies and confusion. No more wondering who she’s sleeping with behind my back. No more thinly veiled recriminations, or being told that nothing I tried was ever *quite* up to par. No more struggling to be understood. No more questioning myself when I knew full well the answer.
Yes, as always, this would be for the best. She was not the one.
I pulled out my suitcase and began to pack.
This was not the end.
This is a story. An amalgamation of those moments when the relationship, my relationships, end. I’ve learned many things from my past relationships:
Through it all, I have never given up on love. I am frankly amazed at the fact that I keep bouncing back, willing to try again; for all the times I’ve been hurt, I ought to be jaded beyond repair. But I’m not. I marvel at my heart’s resilience, and look forward to the next lesson.
I’m excited.
Stoked.
Thrilled.
Giddy! (yeah I know, I used that word again. It’s a rare occurrence, really.)
In fact, if you could hear the chatter inside my head, it would sound something like this:
“omg omg omg omg omg omg omg yay!!!”
Pretty much that’s it.
So. I guess you’re wondering why I’m all hyped up, happy, bouncing off stuff and…stuff. Are you? Really?
Ok. I’ll tell you.
You ready?
Maybe you should sit down first. I’ll wait.
……..
Sitting? Ok.
<deep breath>
Ok.
I’m one of the newest writer/bloggers for OurPDX.net.
Allow me to give you a moment to just let that sink in.
……..
I KNOW HUH!!!! HOW AWESOME IS THAT!!!!!
Pretty damn, my friends. Pretty damn.
No worries about my slacking off on blogging here though. OurPDX.net is all about Portland, so my PDX-type posts will be drifting over in that direction, but there’s oh so much more stuff I blog about than that. I’ll let you know when I post over there, so you can hop over there and check it out too. No worries!
In fact, check out my VERY FIRST POST, about how our own dear Mayor Sam forgot about bikes for the storm response survey they did last month. Unbelievable, but true.
One final thought:
OMG YAY!
This is OMFGMF hot. That is all.
Lykke Li @ NTBR Part 4 - "Hustlin'" from Drew Innis on Vimeo.
Oh, and yeah. She was just here last Thursday. I found out about her show when I drove by the Hawthorne Theatre half an hour after it started, for dinner with friends a block away. So sad. Here’s the KNRK interview.
HAWT.
Just in time for Valentine’s day, I submit to you, worthy readers, a valentine pub crawl. Except instead of crawling pubs, I’m gonna crawl countries. And instead of sampling libations*, I’m gonna swirl words of love around my palate in different languages, see if the mouth feel is nice. Test the bouquet. See if the tannins are overpowering. In homage to Valentine’s Day, join this humble, hopeless romantic as we journey ’round the world in my flying gondola of love.
*False advertising, you say? Whatev. Deal w/ it.Let’s start in that passionately contested northeast corner of Spain, where they pronounce Barcelona with the c sounding like –th, Catalonia:
T’estimo (Catalan) – Short and sweet. But not too sweet. Sounds a bit fiduciary, in fact.
Wo ai ni (Chinese (Mandarin)) – Falls off the tongue with a touch of earnestness. Interesting, for the Chinese to sound earnest in love.
Jeg elsker dig (Danish) – Full and robust. Would sound great yelled from below a balcony, I’d wager.
Ik hou van jou (Dutch) – Melodic, strong, with a nice rhythm. I think Dutch singers probably have the edge, here, no?
Je t’aime (French) – Hello, this is the language of love, right? Making the knees of women weak for centuries.
Taim i’ ngra leat (Irish Gaelic) – Probably one of the hardest languages to learn, but oh so rewarding. This is the one that you yell out amidst the fields at twilight, and who’s to say if your heart’s true love is the girl or the island.
Ich liebe dich (German) – Frankly, German is not the most pleasant on my ears. But I’m sure if you’re German, this is one of the nicer things you get to hear.
S’agapo (Greek) – Agape! Greeks, who gave us Aphrodite, Zeus, Adonis, Cupid, the Muses, and at least three different words for love (agape, eros, philia, and possible thelema and storge). Truly this country has inspired love in the world for eons.
Szeretlek (Hungarian) – Whoa. And I thought the only cool thing to come out of Hungary was Béla Bartók. They don’t fool around when they say I love you. They fucking mean it.
Ti amo (Italian) – Ah, the Italians. I do have a fondness for the Latin languages, I must confess. They all just sound…right. Like they invented the idea of love, and the way they say it is the way the universe would if it spoke in words. They don’t call them the Romance languages for nothin!
Ya tebya liubliu (Russian) – Not what I would have expected the Russian to sound like. Sounds a bit like you’re talking to a pet instead of your lover. Meh.
Kocham cię (Polish) – Sounds a bit demanding, but musical. Still better than the German, if you ask me.
Eu te amo (Portuguese) – This is my favorite. But then, I’m biased. I freaking love this language. Eu te amo, meu amor…Sinto saudades de você.
Techihhila (Sioux) – Native American languages are so awesome. You can almost touch the desire in this one.
‘Rwy’n dy garu di (Welsh) – You know, if I could figure out how to pronounce this, I bet it would sound just beautiful. I’m sure my pronunciation is all fuckered up, and it still sounds poetic.
Well, my star-crossed lovers, I hope you enjoy my little love sampler. This Valentine’s day, when you whisper sweet nothings in your true love’s ear, try something a little exotic for a change, and whisper one of these. Impress him or her with your worldly talents. Maybe these exotic words will inspire you and your babe to try other exotic pursuits in the name of love, right?
Peace and love to you all, this day and every day.
My fellow bloggers have truly been outdoing themselves lately. So I thought I’d just give a shout out to some great stuff they’ve been writing lately. Hey, Valentine’s Day is coming, right? What better way to spread some blogger on blogger love then to …ahem…expose each other 😉
@caseorganic, aka Amber Case, wrote a great post with five dating tips for nerds. Very useful! Plus, she quotes me, so you know it must be really good info.
@melissalion, aka um, well Melissa Lion, has tasked us with crawling up from the muck that is our paltry existence, raise ourselves up and try to be her! Oh happy day! If you think you’re up to the task, my pretties, take a shot at The Melissa Lion International* Superiority Smugacity Self-Improvement Challenge. I’m making chai. From Starbucks.
The Recovering Straight Girl has some food for thought on the idea that being gay is a choice. I must say, I agree…whether or not it’s a choice, I wouldn’t want to be any other way.
Seems my love affair with PDX is rubbing off on people. @jarvitron aka zenboy wrote this blog post about how much he loves Portland, too. We should have a PDX love-in or something.
As far as work-type blogs go, one of my favorites is Web Worker Daily. Although they tend to cater to gig workers, there’s still lots of great info. And now, I have a go-to article to send all my friends to when I find myself at a loss to explain the coolness of Twitter, complete with some of its drawbacks.
And not the least, @cecivirtue posted some AMAZING phone pix of the opening night party of Coraline. They had the actual sets on display at the party! Wow. Cherry blossoms done with spray painted popcorn? Very, very cool. Makes me miss my old movie construction days, when I built breakaway doors, installed fake plastic Japanese roof tiles, and got to play with gas torches to distress wood beams. Ahh, movie magic.
Spread the blog love, and take a peek at some of my favorite bloggers. Or check my new blogroll over there on the right. Yeah over there. Under my recent flickr pictures. Read their stuff, and comment often. They and I will appreciate it!
I was an angry, disillusioned, totally emo chick in college.
I’m not exactly sure how it happened.
(Translation: it would take far longer than this blog post to explain, and I’m not sure we’re at the stage in our interwebs relationship where I open up that much. )
Right. So, angry. Emo. My writing 101 prof called me a nihilist existentialist.
Wow. Really? No, really?
Well. What sort of music does a nihilist existentialist listen to?
Why, New Model Army, of course. My favorite album of theirs, The Ghost of Cain.
They were angry. Oh, so very angry. I submit the following selections from the track list as evidence:
The Hunt – Vigilante-ism at its finest:
“No police, no summons, no courts of law | no proper procedures, no rules of war | no mitigating circumstance | no lawyer’s fees no second chance”
“We can spend our whole life waiting for some thunderbolt to come | Or we can spend our whole life waiting for some justice to be done | Unless we make our own”
Lights Go Out – The worker’s lament:
“I went to my father, said please make me king… | He said son, well you gotta do your time | I’ve done 53 years and I haven’t yet done mine | You’re just one of the millions waiting in line”
“Though we asked for the money, and money they gave | God how that made us easy to enslave | So today at the office, we picked up the check | A chain of gold, a stab in the back | The old men went home, silent and bowed | And the young men went drinking, drowning it out”
51st State – Great Britain’s anti-american anthem:
“Yeah tip your hat to the Yankee conquerors | We’ve got no reds under the bed | We’ve guns under our pillows”
“Here in the land of opportunities, hah | Oh watch us revel in our liberty | Well you can say what you like, but it doesn’t change anything | Cause the corridors of power, they’re an ocean away”
All of This – Western foreign policy rant:
“Frustrated and impatient and intelligent sharp and twisted like a child | Death is an aphrodisiac now | There’s fuses on the table slowly wired”
“Soldiers out at the discoteque pick up a girl and drink to home afar | Spending money like water on the watered drinks available at the bar | The ones who never were given much never asked much of anything in recall | But there’s a black bag in the corner and it doesn’t bel0ng to anyone here at all”
“In the name of the people, all of this done | In the name of the people”
Western Dream – i.e. the american dream, uh, is a dream, but media is gonna shove it down your throat:
“Gather round and listen and I’ll tell you how it’s done | How they managed to make idiots out of everyone | Take a human population with their hunger and their pain, and the weaknesses that cripple them again and again”
“All lies all lies all schemes all schemes | Every one of you is a loser in the western dream”
Ballad – Most depressing “we fucked up the world” song EVAR, complete with sad harmonica:
“When they look back at us and they write down their history | What will they say about our generation | We’re the ones who knew everything | Still we did nothing | Harvested everything | Planted nothing”
“Floating in comfort on waves of our apathy | Quietly gnawing away at our body | Till we mortgaged the future | Buried our children”
“Well I stand on this hill | And I watch her at night | A thousand square miles and a million orange lights | Wounded and scarred she lies silent in pain | Raped and betrayed in the cold acid rain”
“Not foolish and brave, these leaders of ours | Just stupid and petty, unworthy of power | Just a little leak here, and a small error there | Another square mile, poisoned forever”
Master Race
“And the opposition, well we ain’t doing so well | Our understanding is weak here, and knowledge is small | Though the kids scrawl frustration on a backstreet wall | Well most of them can’t even spell ‘bastard'”
Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch. Sometimes, it’s hard to listen to this album.
So where am I going with this?
I listen to this album still. And I enjoy it, for the memories, and the emotion, but so many of these songs just don’t ring true for me anymore. And that makes me glad…nay, grateful. Thankful. To be perfectly honest, I really must give some of the credit to our newly elected president for laying much of those feelings to rest. Not that last year I was all RAWR I HATE MY COUNTRY, but it sure was painful to watch the things that were happening. They’re still happening, it’s true, but there’s a pervading sense of hope now.
Thank you, my country. I’ve always loved you. But as Michelle Obama said, I’m once again proud to be an American.
My netflix queue has about 482 movies in it.
Yes, that is a lot.
Many of the movies are ones I always wanted to see, but never got around to it, or missed it, or whatever. On the list it goes.
I’ve been kinda slacking on my netflix queue, but I remedied that today, and knocked out two of ’em in a single night.
Movie #1: A Fish Called Wanda.
I’m a HUGE Monty Python fan. My friends and I used to watch the shows, record the shows, quote the shows, and generally act with Monty Python tomfoolery on a daily basis. I used to know the entire “Flying Lessons” skit by heart. (One of my personal favorites) So I remember when this movie came out, and everyone saying how absolutely funny and hilarious is was, and it had John Cleese and Michael Palin, so, win, right? It even was nominated for a couple Oscars.
Meh. It had some funny moments, to be sure, but it just didn’t catch me. Wasn’t funny enough to hold my attention. Perhaps my taste in comedies runs a little to the east or west of this one. I certainly have busted a gut laughing at Monty Python, both the show and the movies. Not that I’m claiming that every movie associated with Cleese et al is copied out of the Monty Python joke book, but chances are that if they were involved, I’d like it.
Movie #2: Benny and Joon
I knew I’d like this movie the second it started with the Proclaimers song “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)”. That song always makes me smile. Plus hello, Johnny Depp AND Julianne Moore? I can’t help myself, I love movies like this. It’s the romantic in me, what can I say. So, great music: “Can’t Find My Way Home” is one of my all time faves, although I prefer the Swans version to Joe Cocker. He always kinda freaked me out, frankly. Classic boy meets girl, must overcome obstacles to be together story with a mental illness twist. I especially like the fact that the person with the mental illness is never someone you think of as ‘disabled’.
I can totally relate to Sam. In more ways than I care to admit.
I think I want to take up painting. Seriously. And hey, maybe I’ll watch a couple of old Buster Keaton films while I’m at it.
