OHSU Tram: An obese woman with long scraggly gray hairs dangling from her chin squeals in delight as the car swings crossing the tower.
Music Millennium 23rd: I wander in for the going out of business sale and spot Minnie Driver - of Good Will Hunting, Will & Grace and working in a sweatshop fame - on stage, to play a brief set to promote her new musical effort. I can hear a word she says or sings despite being about 30 ft. away, but her British enunciation was superb. The music had a light, airy coffee shop quality, not bad at all, but not so imminently wonderful I feel compelled to purchase a disc even with her there to sign it. Besides which, since I got too shy meeting Michael Chabon to get an autograph, how would I react to a snippy Brit who fucked Matt Damon?
Old Town, galleries: An art show featuring "regular" people as their imagined comic book super hero archetypes plays in the first floor of a 7 story building. The remaining floors are both empty and unlocked, and in my meandering tour I happen upon a refrigerator stocked to the brim with beer. At the end of the night, I make my way back with a friend and posing as helpful guests, we make our way out with two cases concealed in a trash bag. Needless to say, there wasn't much point in leaving the house for the rest of the weekend.
PSU: Graffiti on wall: "Penis Envy it's a furious frenzy."
Central Library: A pasty young man, out of breath, quietly breaks down jerking his head back and forth scanning the Internet stations on the 3rd floor. On the verge of tears and panic, he breaks into a run. The librarian says, "Sir, if you tell me your card number I can tell you which station you're signed up at," but such is his consternation he passes her oblivious in a blind frenzy.
Someday Lounge: A buxom woman sits outside sipping her cocktail; she complains that her breasts make her back hurt and says she ought to hire a midget to hold them up. "Where would I find a midget who could do that?" she says. "Have you tried Craigslist?" someone offers.
William Temple Thrift Store, Glisan: A woman loudly speaks to her son on her cell phone, "Now don't go blabbing this all around town, but Lydia's a terrible mother."
C.C. Slaughter's: A man of 29, at the oldest, with a That 70s Show retro hairstyle approaches and tells me he's Gus Van Sant - the fifty-something Portlander who directed the aforementioned Minnie in Good Will Hunting. I ask him to name anyone from the cast of Gerry (a terrible, pretentious piece of drivel directed by Van Sant and featuring only Matt Damon and Casey Affleck) and the impostor is unable. Thus my opportunity of spotting two Good Will Hunting Oscar nominees in one month is thwarted.
Max, and the iPod universe: A man who appears to be a middle aged Mormon loudly listens to "That's the Way [uh huh uh huh] I Like It by K.C. and the Sunshine Band; a dowdy girl in a sweatshirt loudly listens to Madonna's "Material Girl."
The Tube: One of our drinking companions returns from the bar announcing that the bartender has "coke boogers."
PGE Park Max station: A man loudly hawks up snot behind me, spitting on the sidewalk and announcing to nearby pigeons, "Yeah, you best get out the way bitch!" Upon hearing a bell he announces to no one in particular, "Does that sound mean the faggoty ass trolley's comin'?"
Thursday, August 16, 2007
The Falafel Incident
Pearl: Yuppie in a business suit leaves office, climbs on a skateboard and skates away.
Old Town: A drag queen in man drag calling himself Dark River sings a bawdy song called "Analingus," lifting its tune from "Fergilicious." Toward the end, he drops trou and a dowdily dressed drag queen runs to the stage and services him from behind. The hostess mounts the stage and tells the dowdy drag queen, "Honey, I've gotten so good at that I can tell what the guy had for dinner the night before. Let me smell." She blows in the MC's face, who makes a snide expression. "Falafel," she says.
Old Town: Standing outside smoking, we're joined by a young black man who tells us that the two guys across the street are police informants. Then he lights up what looks like a round sugar cube on the end of a golf tee.
Northwest: A gelled and styled teenage boy walks his mother. She says, "Can't you walk a little more like you're straight?" He says, "Nobody thinks I'm straight." She rolls her eyes. "That's for sure."
MAX: A young Amish couple boards the streetcar. She's wearing a pioneer dress and head wrap; he's wearing a hand sewn work uniform. On their feet: Nike cross trainers.
Old Town: A man in a walker slowly leaves a dive gay bar; one minute later another man in a walker enters.
NW Trendy 23rd: I attempt to order bacon in a Jewish deli, am rebuffed.
Powells: I wait an hour to have my book signed by Michael Chabon; when I arrive at his table, I'm too shy to say anything but, "thank you."
NW 22nd: I arrive home to find a camera crew photographing a strange woman on my living room sofa.
Stark St., Fleet Week: Two uniformed sailors walk past a gay bar. A fag hag tells them their asses look cute in sailor pants. They turn around and decide to head back to the bar until my bf - traitorously - dissuades them.
Waterfront, Pride Day: A cute boy in an athletic uniform runs up and hands me a flier about joining a Rugby team. That's right: Me on a rugby team; load that on YouTube and I'd have more hits than the cat who plays piano.
NW Gallery District: A male pit bull attempts to rape me.
SE, outside Rotture: I call out drunkenly to a hipster entering a trendy club, "Didn't I see you today at Urban Outfitters?" He turned away in a quick flash of shame.
Chinatown: A sign advertises the Hung Farlow building.
NW 22nd, 12th and Stark, apt. on Montgomery: Three separate locations where within a week's time I find a VHS copy of "Elvira, Mistress of the Dark." I begin to get the impression that Elvira must be psychically attempting to communicate with me.
Burnside: A homeless man storms off into the night ranting about Hillary Clinton.
MAX: A man in a security guard uniform twitches angrily and mutters to himself.
NW Trendy Third: A group of moronic yuppie tourists stop traffic on a busy street obliviously in order to point at a Pottery Barn. I push my way through them and do not apologize. I feel like a true Portlander.
Old Town: We're playing pool at a dive bar; two other guys in the room are playing video poker on bar benches. One falls off the bench hard on his ass; he quickly leaves the room hoping no one will notice. He still has money on the game.
Old Town: A drag queen in man drag calling himself Dark River sings a bawdy song called "Analingus," lifting its tune from "Fergilicious." Toward the end, he drops trou and a dowdily dressed drag queen runs to the stage and services him from behind. The hostess mounts the stage and tells the dowdy drag queen, "Honey, I've gotten so good at that I can tell what the guy had for dinner the night before. Let me smell." She blows in the MC's face, who makes a snide expression. "Falafel," she says.
Old Town: Standing outside smoking, we're joined by a young black man who tells us that the two guys across the street are police informants. Then he lights up what looks like a round sugar cube on the end of a golf tee.
Northwest: A gelled and styled teenage boy walks his mother. She says, "Can't you walk a little more like you're straight?" He says, "Nobody thinks I'm straight." She rolls her eyes. "That's for sure."
MAX: A young Amish couple boards the streetcar. She's wearing a pioneer dress and head wrap; he's wearing a hand sewn work uniform. On their feet: Nike cross trainers.
Old Town: A man in a walker slowly leaves a dive gay bar; one minute later another man in a walker enters.
NW Trendy 23rd: I attempt to order bacon in a Jewish deli, am rebuffed.
Powells: I wait an hour to have my book signed by Michael Chabon; when I arrive at his table, I'm too shy to say anything but, "thank you."
NW 22nd: I arrive home to find a camera crew photographing a strange woman on my living room sofa.
Stark St., Fleet Week: Two uniformed sailors walk past a gay bar. A fag hag tells them their asses look cute in sailor pants. They turn around and decide to head back to the bar until my bf - traitorously - dissuades them.
Waterfront, Pride Day: A cute boy in an athletic uniform runs up and hands me a flier about joining a Rugby team. That's right: Me on a rugby team; load that on YouTube and I'd have more hits than the cat who plays piano.
NW Gallery District: A male pit bull attempts to rape me.
SE, outside Rotture: I call out drunkenly to a hipster entering a trendy club, "Didn't I see you today at Urban Outfitters?" He turned away in a quick flash of shame.
Chinatown: A sign advertises the Hung Farlow building.
NW 22nd, 12th and Stark, apt. on Montgomery: Three separate locations where within a week's time I find a VHS copy of "Elvira, Mistress of the Dark." I begin to get the impression that Elvira must be psychically attempting to communicate with me.
Burnside: A homeless man storms off into the night ranting about Hillary Clinton.
MAX: A man in a security guard uniform twitches angrily and mutters to himself.
NW Trendy Third: A group of moronic yuppie tourists stop traffic on a busy street obliviously in order to point at a Pottery Barn. I push my way through them and do not apologize. I feel like a true Portlander.
Old Town: We're playing pool at a dive bar; two other guys in the room are playing video poker on bar benches. One falls off the bench hard on his ass; he quickly leaves the room hoping no one will notice. He still has money on the game.
Intro: Full Moon in Scorpio
Like all hayseeds from Idaho, I descended upon Portland - May 2 '07 a full moon in Scorpio*, no accident - seeking cultural enlightenment, unrestrained liberalism and pretense, the so-called "hustle and bustle" of city life, bars I haven't been kicked out of, people I haven't slept with.
I struggled to find a way to capture my experience for my first months in PDX, because - as an English major - why bother to have any experience that cannot be published somewhere?
I came upon the idea of employing random scenes and vignettes that evoked my new urban life. Many Portlanders will probably find the scenes from my first few months trite and common (the Hung Farlow building et al), but I've tried to present scenes - whether amusing, or unusual, or fairly common - that represent Portland to me. Unlike most hayseeds, I won't bore my readers with a lot of trifles like, 'I saw two homos kissing,' or 'I saw a hooker get arrested.' Kissing homos and hookers are pretty much my milieu, and I'll only present them when they do something worthy of attention.
Occasionally, as it's my life and my blog, I interfere - as it were - in the scene itself, so it isn't mere observation, sometimes it's experience. Also, I seldom get across the river, so almost all of these little vignettes will take place downtown, Old Town, the Nob Hill area where I live, and OHSU where I temp.
*If your goals require a change of mind, of heart, and/or of action, this is the night to successfully tackle fears that could impede the ability to fully embrace change.
I struggled to find a way to capture my experience for my first months in PDX, because - as an English major - why bother to have any experience that cannot be published somewhere?
I came upon the idea of employing random scenes and vignettes that evoked my new urban life. Many Portlanders will probably find the scenes from my first few months trite and common (the Hung Farlow building et al), but I've tried to present scenes - whether amusing, or unusual, or fairly common - that represent Portland to me. Unlike most hayseeds, I won't bore my readers with a lot of trifles like, 'I saw two homos kissing,' or 'I saw a hooker get arrested.' Kissing homos and hookers are pretty much my milieu, and I'll only present them when they do something worthy of attention.
Occasionally, as it's my life and my blog, I interfere - as it were - in the scene itself, so it isn't mere observation, sometimes it's experience. Also, I seldom get across the river, so almost all of these little vignettes will take place downtown, Old Town, the Nob Hill area where I live, and OHSU where I temp.
*If your goals require a change of mind, of heart, and/or of action, this is the night to successfully tackle fears that could impede the ability to fully embrace change.
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