2008

Looking forward to this year.
Things seem to be lining up in our favor.
"They say working is best because poverty is hell on a man". Not sure who "they" is but I do understand. We are both starting the year with new employment. J switched directions and took on a new career. He is now working for a grown-up company considered to be one of the top 10 places in Portland to be employed. I am helping a start up company get off the ground and working security at a local concert venue. Crazy but hopefully will provide me with some interesting things to talk about.
The girls are all a year older and doing what they are supposed to be doing. Mostly. Jack the dog continues to provide all of us with entertainment and love. We have some adventures planned for the year. In places where they don't speak English and roads are still unpaved.

And we are ending 2007 on a great note. Numerous gatherings and parties and chances to connect with old and current friends. Friends from afar coming in and out of town. A friend's wedding to tie it all together. Too much good food and an iron chef competition is happening at our house before the end of the year. Christmas was nice. Added bonus on Christmas Day. We were watching It's a Wonderful Life. The scene at the end when George Baily finally figures it out. He is running through the streets and the snow is coming down, hard. It started snowing at that point for us. I don't think it has snowed on Christmas Day in Portland for 18 years. It was lovely.
I think I will like 2008.

Bouncer School

A few weeks ago I had to take a day long class I refer to as "Bouncer School" or "8 hours of my life I will never get back". It really has nothing to do with the new job I am starting at the Crystal as a security person/bouncer. It is a ridiculous licence that the state of Oregon makes you get. Kiss my ass Oregon. The licensing part of it would not be bad, the problem is that they lump all security positions together. The class only covers one section of this broad position. Store security guards. If I ever want to catch shoplifters at Walmart I am golden. However this will never happen. Because first of all it would require me to set foot in a Walmart and I can't see myself doing that. In fact no one in my bouncer class wants to do that either. My class consisted of two professional body guards, a strip club bouncer and 2 others like me who just want to work at the Crystal in hopes we can hear some fun music and make a little money.
We had an hour lunch break and I had big plans of going to my car and taking a nap. I only had four hours of sleep the night before. I was a little hungover and crabby. Heading out I was stopped by a fellow bouncer school attendee. He was 6'4, 300 pounds and red hair with a mullet down to his waist. He invited me to go across the street and have lunch at the deli. I did not want to be that snotty girl that is above it all so I said sure. Besides you never know when you are going to need a 300 pound red headed body guard in your corner. Someday it might be good to be able to pull that out of your pocket. The deli we went to is really one of those bars where people play video poker and keno. I had never been in such a place. This was a whole new world for me. At what point when I left my home did I cross the state line and end up in Reno. How this happened I do not know but sure enough, there I was. Reno. At 11:30 in the morning there was a guy at the bar too drunk to be served. Women were sitting at video poker machines with pitchers of beer while they argued on their cell phones with their children. I ate my BLT and made conversation with my new body guard friend. Please don't ask me to play pool. He did.
I finished the class, passed my test 49 out of 50. I was finger printed twice, had my criminal background paperwork notarized and now I am officially licensed to ask you to play nice at the Crystal.

Athens Greece, not Athens Georgia

To excited to be tired, lacking in sleep but my senses were heightened. The smells were more distinct, I was seeing things in technicolor and hearing in surround sound. The sounds were not blended together like they frequently are. They were distinct. Athens is a crazy place. We made our way through the airport and located the subway that would take us across the city. There was a hostel that had a bunk bed waiting with our names on it. We left the safety of the tourist areas and the signs with English translations for a neighborhood with an affordable bed.

I was equipped with some photo copied disjointed maps from a travel book and and address for the Aphrodite Hostel. Climbed the stairs of the subway station for the city above. It had just finished storming. This working class neighborhood I was in felt gritty. It had the feel of a black and white movie from decades ago. A kind of artsy movie that only plays at small theatres and comes with subtitles. This was where Jesus and Peter and Paul and the others had walked 1000s of years before and you could still feel the dust of their foot prints mixed up and swirling with the dust and rain of today. I stepped carefully, not wanting to step on the wrong pebble for fear it could be considered an artifact.

The street signs were written in Greek characters. Our maps were in English letters. Instantly I noticed the weight of my backpack. Stopped a few people and pointed at my map and my address and received smiles and shoulder shrugs. Got yelled at by a hotel owner for bothering him when I had no intention of staying there. Ran into a girl with a back pack, she was American. Yeah, a new friend. "Where are you going?", "The Aristotle Hostel", "No way, so are we", we walked together and made small talk. Three blocks later I realized... I am going to the Aphrodite's not Aristotle. Oops, oh well. "Goodbye".

The neighborhood was made of tall skinny buildings that held apartments and funky little shops on the bottom levels. The store fronts consisted of big open garage type doors. Sounds of people arguing, talking and laughing came from these places. Motorcycles were everywhere and cars parked on sidewalks. People were cooking dinner. I had been in hallways wider then these streets. Things were still dripping with the rain that had recently stopped. It was warm. We found the Aphrodite. Gave them some cash and were issued a set of sheets and a key which also let us turn on the lights in our little room on the 5th floor. The elevator was old school. Big heavy metal doors that you opened and closed yourself. The room was bare. It consisted of a wooden table and chair and two sets of bunk beds. The beds were naked except for a folded blanket at the end of each. Dropped my stuff and left.

In the basement of this building was a bar of sorts. Small, tiny, dark. It was in an industrial looking kind of cage. There was a bar across one end that fit maybe three bar stools and a spot or two to stand. A bench along one side that had a couple of tiny tables. In the back was a large table that was made for maybe eight people. This was all there was room for. At the large table a group of ten or twelve playing quarters. They were from all over the world speaking different languages. Somehow the universal language of drinking games brings us all together. Smiling, laughing, slamming, clinking glasses. It was wonderful. Everyone in this closet size room was smoking. It was hard to see with the poor lighting and cloud of heavy smoke. The quarter playing group resembled that barroom scene in the original Starwars. The bar that Han Solo and Chewbacca show up at on the strange planet that is full of all the crazy aliens. That is what it felt like. Ordered a beer and along with it was handed a shot of ouzo. I forgot about the ouzo. Greece's national drink. It was served in a plastic shot glass lined with blinking LED lights. Not sure what to do with it I slammed it. Later I found out this was wrong. It is an aperitif meant to be sipped slowly. Now I felt warm and a little crazed from being awake for over 24 hours. The room was spinning. Left the basement bar and and headed out on the streets. Now for some food and some fresh air.....I'll plenty of time to sleep when I'm dead.

Random thoughts today.

It is a pink flowered rain boots kind of day. I wish I had an umbrella to match.

The post office annoys me. I like the concept. Think it is amazing. A person can put a cute little sticker on the corner of a package or an envelope and some how that package gets to where ever you want it to go. It is really pretty amazing. That address can be anywhere in the world and your package will get there. Even a grass hut in Bangladesh. But the post office people annoy me. They must post that in their job description. Do not apply if you are not annoying.

Crimson misses her best friend Clover. We were kind of cute that night. Don't forget....boys are stupid, babies are worse and you will kick ass in SOUTH AFRICA!

I love Fridays! Happy hour, some live music, a glass of wine or three.

Job interviews are not fun. No matter how much in your mind you think you have gone over every question they could ever possibly ask you, they always have one question that totally knocks you on your ass. My one from yesterday..."When is a time you did not follow directions and what were the results". Job interviews are the adult version of picking sides for a team when you were in elementary school.

Why do base players sing with a base voice?

I can't wait for Thanksgiving!

Cabaret, oh cabaret, oh cabaret

Lemon loves anniversary week. or translate that to...treat me like a princess week.
Thank you.
Breakfast in town at Milo's. The beach, that was nice. Perfectly filled days of sunshine, not getting out of bed until noon, rush to make the 2:00 breakfast cut off, salt water taffy. It was really fun dancing with you at that little bar to that groovy blues band. Funny. I liked our "quaint" hotel room. It was pretty cool how you made it where I could hold the sun up in my hands. I did my best to keep it up a little longer but it did end up sinking into the ocean anyway.

Dinner at LeHappy. For that matter dinner at all my favorite places during anniversary week. LeHappy, Jakes and Masu. I would share a steak with you anyday, rare please. Yes, I am spoiled.

And on Tuesday, that box from the bakery bar. What kind of delectable baked good did you bring me? Wait, what's this...not a baked good. An IPOD! All of my best friends wrapped up in a sweet, neat, little 4GB package encased in shiny blue metal.
Blue like a frozen blue raspberry otter pop on a hot August day. (do you like that little description? I am learning how to write.) Or I could say, blue like the water as it hits the white sand on a Panama City Beach. I could say blue like my bike but hardly anyone would know what that means. Cute how it matches my bike. Don't worry. I will not attempt to ride my bike while using the IPOD. You probably remember that little incident last summer when I was trying to talk to Tara on my phone while riding my bike. I had to break it in at some point. Too bad it was my first time on it.
Wax on! That was for you. But I do admit I am getting a lot of enjoyment out of that experience. I will visit my new friend Jeven again. That night at Jakes, perfect. Lemondrops, martinis and wine. It is fun pretending we are grownups.

And then Cabaret. What a feast. It was fun how you sent me out armed with nothing but a max ticket and a texted address on my cell phone. I was really surprised. It was fun rushing for tickets. You know I secretly want to be Storm Large but I don't think at 5'1" I could ever measure up to her 6' stature.
Dinner at Masu. (Yes, I was the girl that used to pick you up from the airport and take you here.) I loved sitting by the window. Late at night the rain was blowing sideways but we had sexy cocktails and sushi in front of us. What a work of art. And the DJ played on.
Thank you.
But don't think this lets you off the hook. I still expect you to take me to Cuba and the other nine yet to be determined places on my list. You could add Vietnam's Cat Ba Island to the list. Considered to be the 8th wonder of the world. For you, I will continue to smuggle your contraband across international borders.

http://travel.msn.com//Guides/MSNTravelSlideShow.aspx?cp-documentid=380216&imageindex=2

josh ritter

I am a little crazy over Josh Ritter right now. Maybe a little too crazy. I am this close...(if you could see my finger and thumb they are held up about a quarter of an inch apart)...that is how close I am to skipping town and going all Penny Lane on him.
It started on a drive home from Boise. I had seven hours in the car alone. To keep me company J bought a couple of new CDs to listen to. Friends for the road. It was love at first site. I even had to pull over and read the lyrics on the CD jacket so I would know exactly what I was singing along to. I used the repeat button a lot that night.
Then a month later I saw Josh Ritter at the Aladdin in Ptown. That was all it took. Now I am head over heals crazy on Josh. Turns out he looks just like my friend Jason S. His show was amazing. Head tilted back, eyes closed and oh that smile.
He played and sang and told stories and we all sang along. Josh reminded me of Snoopy from the Charlie Brown cartoons when he does his little happy Snoopy dance. I caught that contagious smile and followed it with an occasional giggle. He owned us. Flirting with the crowd, teasing us. He brought us to the edge of our toes while he riffed on his guitar and we waited for that hook to come back around. His band shared his enthusiasm. I was introduced to other songs that weren't on my CD. Girl in the War, Monster Ballads, Wolves and Good Man. This guy is good.
I assumed this was all for us. Just for Portland. Being the obsessed fan that I am I did what anyone else would do. A little internet stalking never hurts. I watched You Tube videos and found FabChannel.com. FabChannel is from the Paradiso in Amsterdam. An Amsterdam equivalent to the Portland Aladdin. Their website streams past concerts. Hundreds to choose from. And a couple from Josh Ritter. Anyway, turns out he is cheating on us. He performs in this manner all over the world not just Portland. That took some getting used to. Guess I have to be OK with sharing him.

the Ride Home

I've always liked the ride home. As far back as I can remember I have liked the ride home. Even as a little girl riding in the back seat while my dad smoked his cigarettes and my mom talked in hushed tones I liked the ride home. Staring out the window and shutting out what was in the front seat I would dream, imagine and fantasize. And when I was really little I would pretend to be sleeping when we arrived home so I could be carried to bed.
As I grew older I moved to the front seat and the person in the driver seat changed. Frequently. Sometimes nightly. I never cared to be the driver. I liked to settle into the seat, quietly. Listen to whatever music this man driving the car was trying to impress me with. Often a little tipsy or some other such thing. I would watch raindrops slide down the window or look at the moon. Stare into swirling snowflakes and stare into peoples lighted windows as we drove past. Depending what I saw I would sometimes pretend to be living their lives for a minute or two. I would remember. Old friends, broken hearts, hearts I broke. Where are they now and who is in their passenger seat at this hour and what are they looking at? I really wasn't even aware of who was next to me.
I would wonder. Would this be the last time I would be riding home with this individual. Would this be the only time. Would I be riding home with him forever. It would frequently annoy me when the individual at hand would try to talk and make me carry on a conversation. Let me be. Let me have my moment. I remember when I became aware of this "riding home phenomenon" that I so much enjoyed. I was only 19 years old. A smile had made its way from my face to one of the boys in the bar. It was closing time and he was taking me home. He was a 38 year old Austrian ski instructor and had saved me his passenger seat for the night. I watched the houses go by. It was cold. A few snowflakes danced in front of his headlights. At the time I was living in a frozen mountain town and at 2:00am it was very cold. Part of me wished I could pretend to be asleep so this man could carry me to bed. I can't remember his name.
This youtube link goes perfect with this posting....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bm3lWq4s5-U
"And I'll have you back by break of day
I'm going your way anyway
And if you'd like to come along
I'll be yours for a song
I know you are waiting and I know that it is not for me
But I'm here and I'm ready and I've saved you the passenger seat
I won't be your last dance just your last goodnight"

do not disturb

Recently I was discussing with friends the perils of airline travel. If I am traveling solo I do not like talking to people on airplanes. I don’t want to. This is my space, my time. I will bury my head in a pillow, press my cheek against the window, put on my music, close my eyes and just in case there is any doubt there will be a book on my lap. A sort of visual to remind you that I do not want to be disturbed. One of the dangers of talking to people on airplanes is there is no way to get out of the conversation. It keeps going until you land.
My friend Paul insists the best way to travel international is hung over. It supposedly helps with the jet lag. I think it would also make people avoid you. You would have that air about you. I once was on an international flight returning home when a hungoverish looking man got on the plane at the last possible second. He was wearing a sort of navy mechanics looking jacket. He shlumped into his seat. When the plane took off he reclined his chair and put his jacket over his head and did not remove it until we were landing twelve hours later. It was awesome.
Back in the day, when I was 10, I was certain I would meet the love of my life sitting next to me on an airplane en route to some exotic location. But different dreams that choose me came true and I met the love of my life in a black jeep. No airplanes. He drives fast enough so maybe riding in the passenger seat is kind of like flying.

Screen Door, Portland Oregon

Picked Him up from work tonight. Received a tour of the new digs. Way cool. No, lets make that way, way, way cool. (that is three ways) He scored on that gig. Went to eat at the Screen Door. Which translates to later he gets a tour of me. Yum. Was greeted at the door with the great music. It is weird how the music is paired perfectly with the food on the menu. Specifically what I ordered. Then started again with a great cocktail. I am a sucker for any cocktail with fresh ginger. This one is called the Rhett Butler. Makers Mark, fresh pureed ginger and lemon on ice. Mixed by a bartender who truly cares about your happiness. Yum! so I had to have another. The food, superb. Sweet potato fries. I am an expert on sweet potato fries and hands down the Screen Door serves the best. Watercress salad with roasted beets, a sprinkling of some sort of yummy creamy cheese and a very delicate dressing. Yum! Paired this with ever so slightly spicy grits and shrimp. Yum! He had the nightly special. A something pork with a side of savory bread pudding and an apple compote. Yum. Fell in love with the waiter. He built his own guitar. This is the place to be.

I'll protect you

I do not count the backyard sleepovers in tents as camping. I had my fair share of them. They were usually miserable. There were always too many girls, freezing, half the time we bailed and ended up in the house. One time I was the girl flanking the tent door, it rained all night, the door leaked and to this day I can not forget how wet and cold I was. Another time it was my back yard and the tent had a hole in it the exact size of my labrodor retriever's head. We wouldn't let her in the tent so she spent the night with her head through the hole looking at us. This turned out to be a good thing becuase it kept out the swarms of misquitos that plague Minnesota in the summer.

My first real camping experience was after I had left home.
He and I were traveling to from South Central Colorado to meet up with friends at Lake Mead Nevada. We were on a kind of a farewell tour. Planning on going our seperate ways after Lake Mead. This is an account of the beginning of a road trip that changed course daily and to this very day is still going on. Being the perfect gentlemen he had an extra sleeping bag for whoever that lucky girl was. Turned out I was the lucky girl. We had to pick up a tent on the way., It was a three to five hour drive from where we started to a town where we could even buy a tent. Durango Colorado. This included crossing some 10000 foot passes in a snow storm at night. The sporting goods store would be long closed when we got there but he being the charmer that he is, called ahead and convinced the store owner to meet us when we got into town.

We left Durango in the late evening and continued west. Left the mountains and the snow behind us. Into the high desert. Somewhere, not sure if it was Colorado or Utah he drove down an unmarked road in search of a place to camp. "Do you know this road is on an Indian Reservation?" I said. "Yeah, I know." "Should we be here?" "Yeah, it will be ok." He pulled off the road and started zipping the sleeping bags together. "What about the tent?" "I'm tired, it's late, we don't need it." "Why did we make such an effort to get one?" "In case we need it." "But there are snakes, and spiders and...." "I'll protect you." Damn, I am such a sucker for "I'll protect you". I kind of melt when I hear that. So we crawled into our sleeping bags on the desert floor. I was sure I would wake up surrounded by Indians pointing their bows and arrows at me, a rattlesnack in my sleeping bag and a scorpian in my shoe. The stars were infinite. No moon in sight. I was protected.

It turns out you do not sleep late when sleeping under the stars. It also turns out our Indian reservation was part of a national monument. A geographical wonder. I awoke at that time of day as the sun was coming up. That time of the day when everything looks on fire. Strange rock formations jutted from the flat valley floor where we lay. It was amazing. Did this man I was lying beside plan this visual feast for me to wake up to? Is this how he wanted me to experience this eye candy made by God? Did this next to the last of the true romantics just get lucky steering down a random road in the night.
I like camping.

If I had the chance I'de ask the world to dance...

about this Iraq/Muslim/war thing. It does not seem to be working. I am not sure what George Bush had in mind when he started this. It is time to take a look at some alternative plans. Like mine. I heard a comedian thinking we could get the world to mellow out a little if we crop dusted it with weed. This is funny. But why wouldn't it work?
They say it takes three weeks to break a bad habit. So if we cropped dusted Iraq for three weeks with marijuana smoke it could change the face of history. Think about it. Not the home grown shit that makes you want to sit on the couch and eat. The stuff that makes you want to step outside and see a sunset and smile at your neighbor. Think about it. Have you ever scene stoners fight. It does not happen. It is all OK. We would giggle.
You would have to feed them. That is Jesus 101. Good food. Tastes that make you happy to exist. You would need music. Happy music. Not angry music. Maybe that would be my job. I could be drafted by the army to make great playlists. Broadcast them over a country wide PA. Everyone would stand around and groove a little. "with a smile on their face". Then we could ask the world to dance.
If they were really good we would let them have a pillow fight.

He Said...She Said...

We were not supposed to be there. Frankfurt Germany. One of those odd airline mishaps I so often find myself in. Been traveling to such and such and encountered a plane delay. No flights today. A bomb had pushed itself up through the soil on the edge of the runway and it needed some looking into. It is not what you think. It was a WWII bomb that had been hidden for years and resurfaced. This presented the airport with two problems. 1. How to deactivate a WWII bomb and 2. This bomb was now a historical artifact, a piece of history and needed to be saved. The airline put "he and I" up in a hotel for the rest of the day and night. I don’t think it matters what city or country you are in, airport hotels though comfortable and nice are all kind of the same. Not interested in spending the rest of the day watching German TV "he and I" made our way into Frankfurt proper. I was very comfortable with European Mass transit and did not even consider it would be a problem. But it was….

I had saved a few of my spoils from Amsterdam and "he and I" decided to enjoy them en route. Found ourselves at the subway station to purchase tickets and realized how much we were in over our heads. I stared at that ticket machine, he stared at the ticket machine, pushed some random buttons. Nothing on that machine was of any use in helping us, no diagrams, no color coded maps, no words of English. Just random codes. He and I were barely in a position to ask for help. Someone took pity on us put some money in the machine handed us two tickets and we flashed that universal thank you smile. Hopped on a train. It was nice. "He and I" were in that Amsterdam state of mind. I sat down and settled into him. Quiet, the colors were more defined, everything was brighter in a pleasant sort of way, the sounds a little more distinct, houses flashed by as we went from neighborhood to neighborhood to inner city where we disappeared into subway tunnels. It was nice looking out that train window.

Frankfurt is really kind of a nothing-spectacular place. Most of it was destroyed in WWI and WWII. It is very modern and post 1950. "He and I" walked, had a bite to eat, had a coffee. By chance we came upon one little pocket of “Old Germany”. One little area that had not been destroyed by war. It seemed kind of out of place. Disney had come along and tried to give the place a little charm. Again in that Amsterdam state of mind "he and I" decided to make our way back to our room. Frankfurt was checked off my list. Kind of one of those “been there, done that, scene that” experiences. I feel no need to revisit. It clearly has nothing to offer me. Found a subway station and again we were more than lost. Levels of trains and tunnels and signs everywhere. Lit up like high noon with the brightest fluorescent lights know to man and white tiles. We wandered pretty much aimlessly for a good 30 minutes before we decided to sit for a while and study a map. That is when “the man” came along.

The man sat down next to "he and I" and started talking. Said he wanted to practice his English. I don’t know what the man’s story was. He could have been homeless or not. His clothes were a bit worn and dirty but I think mine were too. And I was not homeless. At least I was pretty sure I wasn’t. Things were a little dicey when I left. Sometimes you never know what you’re walking into until you open the door. That is another story. The man started talking about Genesis. Asked if we mind talking about Genesis. This is the funny part. The three of us had a 20-minute conversation together all talking about something completely different and yet our questions and responses and interactions worked. "I" thought the man was talking about Star trek. The movie where Spock dies and then comes back to life on the planet the Star trek crew built and termed the Genesis Project. "He" thought the man was having a biblical discussion with us and it turns out the man was really talking about Phil Collins and his band Genesis. You have to understand this...when the man said him, I thought he meant Spock, my "he" thought it meant God and the man really meant Phil Collins and then we kept going form there. Then the man got kind of pissed off at us. "He and I" started laughing when we realized what was going on and the man thought the laughter was at him. I promise it wasn't. He left with an attitude and shuffled away. Back to task at hand, "he and I" did make it on a train and somehow willed it to be the one that went where "he and I" were going.

espeically on that sun setting into the ocean thing

At work today I read this on the back of a CD cover. (Because that is the kind of stuff i do at work and my job is important.) Kind of liked it and I thought these pictures went along nicely. It was written on the thank you page after a long list of thank yous.
Sincerely,
to whoever or whatever decided
that this world and all our lives
would be such a good idea
nice work.
especially on that sun into the ocean thing,
without a doubt
you are a bastard.....
and i love you
let there be a heaven we will all get in.
thanks,
TS

Life of Pi

I finished a book the other day I did not want to end. That happens sometimes. The book kind of becomes a friend I do not want to say goodbye to so I read fewer pages everyday, fewer and further apart. So I miss Richard Parker and Pi and I am quite confident that I could survive for months adrift on a life boat in the middle of the ocean with a tiger.
I am also pissed off the book didn't answer all my questions and I desperately want to talk about this with someone. For example, what's with the meercats? My family read it years ago and digested it and argued and talked and moved on. I am not ready to do so. So if anyone can share any insights.....

Morning at DMV

I really did not want her to pass. I felt pretty guilty. Here I go again making that carbon foot print I leave a little bit bigger. Besides, does Violet really need to drive? Am I not putting a lethal weapon in her hands. I tried talking her out of it. “Don’t you want to be one of those cool people that uses Trimet and rides a bike”. “We could get you a cute bike, one that would let you ride while wearing a skirt that has a cute basket in the front.” She was not buying it. So we skipped a little school to take the learners permit test. We waited in line to get a number, waited in line to turn in our paper work and waited to take the test. The DMV is such a miserable place. Why do they do that? Do they make it miserable on purpose. I swear I saw Eminem there trying to sort out his car title. I read my book and I am five pages away from finishing “Life of Pi”, but that is another story. She failed (missed it by one question) and I had a little inner smile. But only for a minute. Because then came the tears, and more tears. Poor Violet. She had been kicked in the face the day before at cheer practice and had this amazing black eye. Then you add the tears and she looked like a poor little street urchin. I dried the tears and did my best “I am sorry sweetie”. What are the lyrics from that song? "when you cry, I cry just like you". Driving is a rite of passage and we will get this behind us. In the scope of starving children and disease this does not even register. But sometimes the small things do open the flood gates.

and when you are lonely go to the record store and visit your friends

On to favorites...
Where I start is not necessarily because they are my all time favorite band. I think I will start with Portland and work out. Cabinessance. Love them. I have two friends that play in the band, Tim and Dave, and I try not to miss. Kind of a country punk thing going on. Best when listened to loud. Their song, "Though Start" is a good intro. http://www.myspace.com/cabinessence
And as the Mercury quotes...Cabinessence feels kind of like walking down a rain-soaked street in the springtime as the sun warms your skin and reflects off the wet concrete while shining through the newly greened leaves 'til the glow overtakes your eyes and you can't quite see," writes Andrew R. Tonry of the Portland Mercury. "Maybe like walking home after morning sex, before coffee and a day off."


Also from Portland, Hillstomp. Saw them last weekend at Hoptoberfest in Stevenson Washington. A sexy, steamy, Mississippi delta blues style. Had a blast. Danced. If J and I had been at a highschool dance they would have seperated us and ulimatley call our parents. After we went for a walk and took on Stevenson. Hung out with the smokers in front of the bar and made lots of new friends.
I am just getting started.
Another Portland Fave...Storm Large!
Spoonshine from Anacortes, love them!
Music is so much better live. I will not miss when they come through town...Martin Sexton, John Butler, Xavier Rudd, Josh ritter, Brett Dennan, Citizen Cope, Dan the Automator with Hadsome Boy.
Going back to punk my all time hands down favorite: the Clash, filling in with the Talking Heads, Violent Femmes, Suburbs, Butthole Surfers, Squalls, Love Tractor, OMD, Smiths...I am sure I will think of more later.
I like Irish Rock: Flogging Molly, Great Big Sea, the Pogues, Seven Nations and the Young Dubliners.
Others I like: Sinead O'Conner, Doug Martcsh, David Byrne, Joe Strummer, Gomez, J5, Slightly Stupid, Black Eyed Peas, Belle and Sabastian, Cornershop, Elvis Presly (but the soulful, gospel, sing lo sweet chariot Elvis), Elvis Costello, Frank Zappa is brilliant, A3, Joe Jackson, Billy Idol, Prince, Chili Peppers, Roy Orbeson, old school rockers like: Lenord Skynard, Rolling Stones, Cheap Trick, Bruce Springstein, J Geils, Led Zeplin, Janice Joplin, then there is Lyle Lovett, Willie Nelson, Marc Knofler, Alison Krauss, Robert Earl Keen, Joss Stone, Ray Charles, new to my list, Todd Snyder, Josh Ritter, Mika, ....wait I am not done

Music

My thoughts on music. Music is a big one. If I am not listening to any it is seems like it is in my head at any given moment. It is kind of like I have a living soundtrack for my life. I think I would be more interesting if people could hear my inner soundtrack. I often want to experience the music that I am listening to. For example, I want to Put on my blue suede shoes, board a plane, touch down in the land of the delta blues in the middle of the pouring rain. I want this experience so I can understand how Marc Cohn's "Walking in Memphis" came to be and why when asked "tell me are you a Christain child" his replay is "man I am tonight". And if it wasn't raining when my plane touched down I would have to do it again. I've "danced all night with a bottle in my hand" to Spoonshine. I get it. "Forgive me Lord Cause I got drunk again" I get it. See where I am going with this. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xg8wRRNHFM0 Check that out.
and as they say...Some music *needs* air. Roll down your window.

Why a blog?

I do not want to be so into myself that I assume everyone wants to know every detail of my life. I have a photo site where I publish the family pictures, the holidays, the birthdays, vacations, important events. But often too much information unless you were there. I also am not so naive that I believe my friends, even my closest friends want to know what all my favorite songs and movies are, what books I am reading, what makes me laugh, my friends are not always going to find my life experiences as exciting as I do and they do not always want to sit through my rants and raves on politics, religion and other life observations. Not to mention the fact that some of the things I say might piss them off.
This does not change the fact that I still have all this information racing through my head. It feels good to tell it to someone (even if it is myself) and clear my mind. I will not tell those around me this exists, unless they ask. If you stumble upon this and find it interesting fantastic, check back, there might be more. If you don't like it, move on. Don't waste anymore time. I don't care.