portland

i think it's good for people to just roam around. stay where your car breaks down. get on the damn bus, get off when you have to pee, then move there. that's good.~gretel ehrlich

i love portland. i first came to portland in the summer of 2001. i stayed with my friend chuck at her invitation in sandy, an old time logging town about an hour south-east of portland. not to long after my arrival, chuck found out she was pregnant--she had terrible morning sickness. i ended up spending the summer wandering around downtown portland. i made a few trips back to portland, including a trip to see jonathan carroll in november 2002. it's then that i realized i really wanted to live in portland.

so, i lived in portland briefly with david in the fall of 2003. things really fizzled out on me, and i decided to come back and finish school. but i still long to live there and will return to my heart's home one day.

sairy ann and i at mill's end park, thanksgiving 2003. mill's end park is the smallest designated park in the world. leprechauns live here. it can't help but make me happy.

portland has more strip clubs, brewries, and bookstores per capita than anywhere else in the world. does portland have it's priorities straight, or what?

one of the the biggest attractions portland held for me was every blocked sported its own bookstore. portland boasts the world largest independent bookstore, powells. powells fills a whole city block and is four stories. the top floor holds mecca, the rare and collectables book room. i saw a first editions of the hobbit and catcher and the rye (ahhh, one day when i am rich...). if paradise is a kind of library, portland must be an extension of heaven.

here is a little ditty that i wrote after my trip to see jonathan carroll in november 2002...

Portland that I love

Buzz, Buzz, Buzz.

Wake up. Open your eyes. Get out of bed. Got to get going. Wake Up. Open Your Eyes. Get Out Of Bed. Got To Get Going. WAKE UP. OPEN YOUR EYES. GET OUT OF BED. GOT TO GET GOING.

I wake up and open my eyes. I use my toes to find the edge of my bed and then roll out. It�s cold. I need to pee. I can hardly see. I got to get going. First the bathroom. OK.

I light the incense; smoke goes up. I remember why I love you.

Today is the day.

At breakfast I sit by Paul. He was sitting at this table last night. He was waiting for his girl to call him and had been all day. He slept on the couch. He is still waiting this morning. I can�t wait with him. I got to get going.

Outside the front door this morning I find the city of Portland, Oregon. It�s a good day. Portland is the one big city that smells like trees, mountains, and rain. The streets are close together in a homey way. Portland is a city full of book people. When I say book people I mean people who aren�t afraid to go looking for a world as they imagine it. When I come here I like to dye my hair black to fit in.

This is the easiest part of the day. Even easier because I�m in a city I love to wander in. I remember the first time I came here. I was dropped off at Taylor and Broadway right in the middle of Westside downtown, a madhouse of coffee-buying professionals headed off to work at 8:30. I was supposed to go job hunting but instead I just wandered from eclectic shop to eclectic shop, until I found the museum where I spent the rest of the day. And that was before I found out about Portland being full of book people. So anyways, I just wait until something happens here. The best thing to do is wander around following my own nose. I always know when I find it.

I remember why I love Portland. This is the place where we belong together. Here we would be just two more book people, searching for the world, as we know it really is.

First I go to the record shops. I have a hard time getting LP�s of my favorite contemporary bands in other cities, but not here. I buy Radiohead�s Amnesiac and while I�m in there a man enters the store. It�s voting time again. He tells loudly, �There�s a man outside shouting vote Republican! Is he joking? HA! HA!� �HA! HA! I�d like to hear that back in Salt Lake City,� I think. This isn�t it. I leave the record shop.

I get on a bus in the free zone and head to The Square. I hate rules, so as I wander around the city I make up rules for myself. Rule Number One: Don�t mess with river spirits. That�s a good rule; what are the chances I�ll meet a river spirit? As soon as I�m done thinking this a river spirit gets on the bus. I recognize him immediately, although he is disguised as a human, because every detail about him is florescent green. And he has the audacity to act like he is just another human. I decide I should walk the rest of the way to the Square and get off the bus at the next stop.

Walking is a terrific idea, walking across Portland always is. First a man asks me for money, because he doesn�t understand that I am actually poorer than he is. Next a rather nice looking man asks me for my phone number. I think, �This isn�t it.� I say �NO!� and politely smile and nod and keep walking. I hear bagpipes and I follow the sound to a Scott dressed in full kilt playing bagpipes. This man I do give money, because he reminds me of my Grampa�s funeral, and how I have to be better for him.

The Square is a good place to find things. That�s why I came here. There are always lots of people enjoying themselves here. I see people playing chess, kicking hacky sacks, drinking coffee, eating late breakfasts with friends, and school children on field trips. Some day I know I will get off the MAXX and find you here amongst these people. I make another rule for myself. Always bring a book and hot chai to The Square. I better find some chai and a book. Back to Rose District for hot chai. I�m walking all the way this time.

My favorite coffee shop has murals of trees and fairies and mountains painted all over the walls. They serve the largest helping of chai in the whole city. They have the greatest mugs, too! I better get chai �to stay� instead of �to go.� Chai is the best because it tastes like Christmas and spreads that �Joy to the World� feeling through your whole body, no matter the time of the year. It isn�t here either. I leave quickly, when I�ve finished my Christmas cheer.

I need a book too. I could go to the next-door bookstore, but I will go to the biggest bookstore in Portland, a bookstore that fills a whole city block. Powell�s, here I come! Rule Number Three: Never own a bookstore smaller than a full city block. It�s only a short hop and a skip to Powell�s, so by the time I�ve finished writing Rule Number Three I�m inside the door.

Deep Breath.

I love the smell of new books, coffee, and book people. It always turns me on. Today I want to find a book on Sen no Rikyu, the greatest Tea Master ever. I think I could find one here. In the purple section I find a book on Tea Masters and then it hits me where it is. I think of another rule: don�t write more than three rules, because three is my lucky number. I better hurry. Up, up and up the stairs I run to the top floor, to the art gallery where there is an author presenting.

I know I will find it here.

But I find you instead.

I wait at the end of the line. And finally I present you your book to be signed. You look up at me.

�You always did have good taste in authors,� You say.

I did find it. This time it is love.

I wonder what it will be tomorrow and where it will be hiding.

a special girl.

home - 2004-3-28