. . . to the Blazers, who, thankfully, took care of business tonight.
. . . to my brother Ryan, or Jimmy, or Rimmy (whichever you prefer) for making it to 33 and celebrating by fishing, snowboarding, kiteboarding, mountain biking, and skateboarding. All in one day. (J-Bro dubbed today "Jimmy's very extreme day") He also did it all wearing a Breakin' tee.
. . . to the interwebs for providing me with this recipe, which, halved, cooked in a loaf pan and topped with chocolate ice cream, strawberries and whipped cream, made a very serviceable birthday cake for said brother.
. . . to Jim Rome for making me laugh out loud by talking about KG's bench antics. Seriously, that is some funny shit.
. . .to Qwanty for bringing the Brain Scientist and her sweet self to PDX tomorrow. Here's to our old haunts and to reconnecting with people we haven't seen in a long time. And to Black Butte Porter and Grilled Cheese Deluxe and DJ Greg. It's going to be super fun to have you here, K-dot!
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
21 April 2009
06 March 2009
Happy Birthday!
I just returned home from the second and final night of Mikey J's birthday extravaganza 2009. (He mildly objects to the "extravaganza" part, but that's how I like to think of it.)
Tonight was the mellow part of the celebration--dinner at Dots (eat your heart out displaced Portlanders!) and our now customary Friday night drinks at North, which we redecorated in our heads as we downed our bevies.
For his birthday, I got Mike tickets to the Reading Frenzy benefit at Holocene last night. It made me happy to be able to support RF, which is my favorite alternative media outlet. I also figured it would make Mike happy to attend an event where he could see Carrie Brownstein (who was showing some of her Thunderant shorts) and Corin Tucker, who was playing a short set of all-new solo songs. He loves those Sleater-Kinney girls!
There were also a couple of readings, and other bands (we both sort of liked Explode into Colors) and there were a lot of hipsters. Mike had a few drinks, and found one guy and one girl who he wanted to rumble with. The guy, he argued, deserved an ass kicking for sporting a ridiculous mullet-becomes-a-rat-tail. The girl's offence was wearing overly ironic garb. She was dressed like Bailey from WKRP, but she wasn't as cute. He kept his cool though. During Tucker's show a drunk, loud, obnoxious S-K fangirl almost got a beat down. I could have gotten behind that one. She was truly deserving. But, ultimately, Mikey is a lover (so I hear), and not a fighter. Thus, she got off easy with just a well-justified verbal lashing.
We also heard a horrible short story about a giant slug and a "vixen" named Teresa, delivered by the guy behind How's Your News and we saw one of the ladies that Mike has recently been on a date with. All in all, it was an entertaining evening.
Happy birthday, Mikey J! The anniversary of your birth is something worth celebrating.
Tonight was the mellow part of the celebration--dinner at Dots (eat your heart out displaced Portlanders!) and our now customary Friday night drinks at North, which we redecorated in our heads as we downed our bevies.
For his birthday, I got Mike tickets to the Reading Frenzy benefit at Holocene last night. It made me happy to be able to support RF, which is my favorite alternative media outlet. I also figured it would make Mike happy to attend an event where he could see Carrie Brownstein (who was showing some of her Thunderant shorts) and Corin Tucker, who was playing a short set of all-new solo songs. He loves those Sleater-Kinney girls!
There were also a couple of readings, and other bands (we both sort of liked Explode into Colors) and there were a lot of hipsters. Mike had a few drinks, and found one guy and one girl who he wanted to rumble with. The guy, he argued, deserved an ass kicking for sporting a ridiculous mullet-becomes-a-rat-tail. The girl's offence was wearing overly ironic garb. She was dressed like Bailey from WKRP, but she wasn't as cute. He kept his cool though. During Tucker's show a drunk, loud, obnoxious S-K fangirl almost got a beat down. I could have gotten behind that one. She was truly deserving. But, ultimately, Mikey is a lover (so I hear), and not a fighter. Thus, she got off easy with just a well-justified verbal lashing.
We also heard a horrible short story about a giant slug and a "vixen" named Teresa, delivered by the guy behind How's Your News and we saw one of the ladies that Mike has recently been on a date with. All in all, it was an entertaining evening.
Happy birthday, Mikey J! The anniversary of your birth is something worth celebrating.
25 February 2009
HA! Pextrix
Qwanty is right--when one thinks about Peter, there are almost too many things to say. He's a strange, and complicated, guy. In that way (and probably in that way only) he is like my dad. To those of you who don't know (and who doesn't?), Peter is my favorite teacher I have ever had in my whole life. Ever. In my whole life. And I've had a lot of teachers and I've been really into a lot of them, but none come near to the almost mythical standing of Peter. (Not even Doc B)
Here are some interesting things about Peter:
1. He really likes the phrase "will-he-nil-he" which, for those of you who don't speak "peter", is willy-nilly. Even though he knows that people will be put off by this, he refuses to use the colloquial version of the saying, either in his writing or speaking. He's stubborn like that.
2. He referred me to his therapist. And I went. He also referred Qwanty to his wife's hairdresser. I don't think that she went. He believes that he can be that intrustive into certain student's lives. I guess maybe he can be.
3. Sometimes for Valentine's Day I make homemade fortune cookies and write out little haiku to stuff inside them. One year, I made one for Peter. The haiku was especially mushy. This should not surprise anyone. Several months later I was sitting in office (probably crying, because that is mostly what I did in his office), feeling uncomfortable because I realized that he had a weird naked woman fertility talisman statue on his desk. I kept trying not to stare at it, because it was such a weird thing to see there. At some point he mentioned the Valentine, and I sort of shrugged it off, but he reached FOR THE WEIRD NAKED WOMAN FERTILITY TALISMAN (at this point I wanted to run screaming from his office) and he showed me that it had a little box in the base and inside that box was the little slip of paper on which I'd written the hakiu. To this day I don't know if this is the sweetest memory I have of him, or the creepiest.
4. Peter, as of a few years ago, only considered me the 7th smartest student he'd ever had. Um. 7th? Talk about your faint praise.
5. I have seen Peter throw an eraser at a student. I also saw him throw chalk at the same student. I have also heard him ask another student, in complete seriousness, "who put you in charge of the obvious today?"
6. One of Peter's greatest friends in the world is a fairly well-known academic who writes like an angel. His prose is so conciliatory and has such a reasonable tone. Peter's writing is,well, cranky and scrappy. It is fun to read them back to back. One wonders what their friendship must be like.
7. Peter likes to eat. A lot. Let him take you out to lunch sometime. You only eat at nice resturants, and you can order whatever you like, and he forces wine on you. (And sometimes dessert as well.) He once told me that the only food he thinks that he doesn't like is cucumber. Cucumber?
I'm sure Qwanty has her own factoids about PC that she might like to share, but these are my favorites---
Here are some interesting things about Peter:
1. He really likes the phrase "will-he-nil-he" which, for those of you who don't speak "peter", is willy-nilly. Even though he knows that people will be put off by this, he refuses to use the colloquial version of the saying, either in his writing or speaking. He's stubborn like that.
2. He referred me to his therapist. And I went. He also referred Qwanty to his wife's hairdresser. I don't think that she went. He believes that he can be that intrustive into certain student's lives. I guess maybe he can be.
3. Sometimes for Valentine's Day I make homemade fortune cookies and write out little haiku to stuff inside them. One year, I made one for Peter. The haiku was especially mushy. This should not surprise anyone. Several months later I was sitting in office (probably crying, because that is mostly what I did in his office), feeling uncomfortable because I realized that he had a weird naked woman fertility talisman statue on his desk. I kept trying not to stare at it, because it was such a weird thing to see there. At some point he mentioned the Valentine, and I sort of shrugged it off, but he reached FOR THE WEIRD NAKED WOMAN FERTILITY TALISMAN (at this point I wanted to run screaming from his office) and he showed me that it had a little box in the base and inside that box was the little slip of paper on which I'd written the hakiu. To this day I don't know if this is the sweetest memory I have of him, or the creepiest.
4. Peter, as of a few years ago, only considered me the 7th smartest student he'd ever had. Um. 7th? Talk about your faint praise.
5. I have seen Peter throw an eraser at a student. I also saw him throw chalk at the same student. I have also heard him ask another student, in complete seriousness, "who put you in charge of the obvious today?"
6. One of Peter's greatest friends in the world is a fairly well-known academic who writes like an angel. His prose is so conciliatory and has such a reasonable tone. Peter's writing is,well, cranky and scrappy. It is fun to read them back to back. One wonders what their friendship must be like.
7. Peter likes to eat. A lot. Let him take you out to lunch sometime. You only eat at nice resturants, and you can order whatever you like, and he forces wine on you. (And sometimes dessert as well.) He once told me that the only food he thinks that he doesn't like is cucumber. Cucumber?
I'm sure Qwanty has her own factoids about PC that she might like to share, but these are my favorites---
23 December 2008
Year-end Mix
One of my favorite traditions that belongs to this time of year is the year-end mix. For many years now, I have been trading mixes with Mikey J and Dr. Awesome that somehow represent the year that has just passed. Last year my mix was populated with songs that all came out in 2007. The year before that, I chose a song that represented each month of 2006 somehow. I know that Mikey and Shane have different kinds of criteria for their mixes.
This year's mix (entitled "Spin it Again") is now done, and mailed off to the regular recipients (or sitting under my tree for Mikey and J-bro and Jane), so I thought I'd "publish" the list here. For posterity, or whatever. Before I do it, I have to say--I have felt very uninspired this year. And I admit that this is mostly a very depressing mix. Which is to say that it sort of befits a mostly depressing year.
*"Ride" The Old 97s
*"Chinatown" Luna
*"Too Drunk to Dream" The Magnetic Fields
*"A Dustland Fairy Tale" The Killers
*"The Bleeding Heart Show" The New Pornographers
*"Disorder" Joy Division
*"Love Song" The Dandy Warhols
*"Stone Cold World" Caroline Herring
*"Librarian" My Morning Jacket
*"All in It" British Sea Power
*"Clouds" The Go-Betweens
*"Lost Coastlines" Okkervil River
*"Mapped by what Surrounded Them" The Twilight Sad
*"Walls" Beck
*"Ruin" The Pierces
*"Believe" The Bravery
and, because it wouldn't be 2008--
*"Madagascar" GnR
(You will notice for the second year in a row, there is no Frank Black on the list---!)
This year's mix (entitled "Spin it Again") is now done, and mailed off to the regular recipients (or sitting under my tree for Mikey and J-bro and Jane), so I thought I'd "publish" the list here. For posterity, or whatever. Before I do it, I have to say--I have felt very uninspired this year. And I admit that this is mostly a very depressing mix. Which is to say that it sort of befits a mostly depressing year.
*"Ride" The Old 97s
*"Chinatown" Luna
*"Too Drunk to Dream" The Magnetic Fields
*"A Dustland Fairy Tale" The Killers
*"The Bleeding Heart Show" The New Pornographers
*"Disorder" Joy Division
*"Love Song" The Dandy Warhols
*"Stone Cold World" Caroline Herring
*"Librarian" My Morning Jacket
*"All in It" British Sea Power
*"Clouds" The Go-Betweens
*"Lost Coastlines" Okkervil River
*"Mapped by what Surrounded Them" The Twilight Sad
*"Walls" Beck
*"Ruin" The Pierces
*"Believe" The Bravery
and, because it wouldn't be 2008--
*"Madagascar" GnR
(You will notice for the second year in a row, there is no Frank Black on the list---!)
01 August 2008
For Those About to Rock
Or for those of you who have been rocking this Thursday night:
Tonight I went out with Qwanty. To Rock 'n' Roll karaoke at the Yucca in Tempe.
In all of my, well, let's face it, my zany years of friendship with Qwanty, we have always made it home on our own. Safely.
Tonight we had to call a cab.
I fell down on the job. It was my fault, really. I had a reasonable number of drinks. And then we met a band. Yes, a whole band. Top Knot, Francis and Dreads (also known as "Nick"). These "gentlemen" offered us 2 rounds of "Irish Car Bombs" (Jameson, Baileys, dropped into a glass of Guinness). Um. We tried to be polite, and so we accepted.
That was a mistake.
For the record, Qwanty was on exceptional behavior.
I, however, made multiple physical contacts with Dreads, and spent about 20 minutes outside with Top Knot while he smoked. I think that we talked about the fact that he wrote "prose". (And works at a nursing home.)
Qwanty asked our cab driver (who I think could accurately describe as a "wigger") about his experiences driving late night cab. He told us about some girl who got him to "take off [his] hat and shirt and roll around with her" for a total cab fare of 250 bones. Wow.
Now we are going to bed. Rest assured, fans, Double Trouble is alive and well. Our thirties, graduate school, children and everything. Some things never change.
Tonight I went out with Qwanty. To Rock 'n' Roll karaoke at the Yucca in Tempe.
In all of my, well, let's face it, my zany years of friendship with Qwanty, we have always made it home on our own. Safely.
Tonight we had to call a cab.
I fell down on the job. It was my fault, really. I had a reasonable number of drinks. And then we met a band. Yes, a whole band. Top Knot, Francis and Dreads (also known as "Nick"). These "gentlemen" offered us 2 rounds of "Irish Car Bombs" (Jameson, Baileys, dropped into a glass of Guinness). Um. We tried to be polite, and so we accepted.
That was a mistake.
For the record, Qwanty was on exceptional behavior.
I, however, made multiple physical contacts with Dreads, and spent about 20 minutes outside with Top Knot while he smoked. I think that we talked about the fact that he wrote "prose". (And works at a nursing home.)
Qwanty asked our cab driver (who I think could accurately describe as a "wigger") about his experiences driving late night cab. He told us about some girl who got him to "take off [his] hat and shirt and roll around with her" for a total cab fare of 250 bones. Wow.
Now we are going to bed. Rest assured, fans, Double Trouble is alive and well. Our thirties, graduate school, children and everything. Some things never change.
08 July 2008
Time and the Secular Sacred
In my early 20s I went through a period of time when I thought very seriously about converting to Catholicism. (Well, not really converting, since that suggests moving from one religion to another, and since I was raised basically agnostic, I was really just thinking about joining the Catholic Church. "Converting" is a better and more interesting word than "joining"though.) My reasons for pursuing this were complicated, but also sort of strange, so I'm not going to go into that here. And that isn't the point anyway.
What is useful to know is that, for at least one year, I attended church regularly--first on Sunday mornings, and then on Sunday nights--and for several years I went for the major holidays, and one year I actually did "Inquiry", which, for the uninitiated, is sort of confirmation class for adults. Somewhere in there I heard a very, very good sermon on the liturgical calendar. The priest talked about how the Church calendar is split up into three kinds of time: feast time, fast time and ordinary time. He explained that the purpose of the fasting time is to give us a structured opportunity to meditate on our lives--to slow down and think about the blessings in our lives, but also to consider the nature of suffering, to remember (history, those who have died), to look within ourselves and evaluate our relationship with God, with others and with ourselves, and to identify space for improvement. The function of feast time is to celebrate, to give thanks, to bless one another. To live in joy. Then he argued that the important thing about both feast and fast times is the way in which they can (and are meant to) impact our lives within ordinary time, which constitutes the bulk of the liturgical year. Feasting and fasting provide perspective through which to see the rest of our days--the not-so-special days--imbuing them with more meaning and more intention.
This is one of the things that I find beautiful and profound about the Church; something I can recognize and incorporate in my life, even though I have ultimately decided that Catholicism is not something that I can really do.
***
For the past week my friend Nikki has been staying with me. She is moving out of Texas, to take a great job and to be closer to her family, and to be in a place that she loves, and doesn't just have to tolerate. She had to be out of her place by the 1st, but wanted to stick around another week, so she came here. And it has been great to have her. Not just because she is fun and we have a good time together, but because we are at similar points in our lives--both ending one chapter of our lives and opening another. We are both very much in transition.
Major moments of transition are a secular version of feast and fast time. When you have one foot in one world and one foot in another, life suddenly becomes so much more than it is in ordinary time. Time moves more quickly. There are more opportunities for celebrating and for socializing, but also for becoming introspective and for noticing the profound. It is a time for intense feeling and also for intense experiencing.
I feel lucky to have been able to have my transition overlap with Nikki's, because it has meant that I have been able to spend this non-ordinary time in a kind of communion with her. And over the course of the past week we have squeezed in a lot of living by:
Drinking (a lot) at all our favorite establishments.
Spending an hour in Best Buy trying to buy a radar detector from a nice (but rather clueless) guy named Daniel L.
Returning the radar detector when we realized that well-meaning Dan didn't sell us the right equipment.
Watching the whole third season of Weeds and the whole first season of 30 Rock on DVD.
Running into "the monster" three nights in a row.
Arguing over yoga (her for, me against).
Eating at suburban chain restaurants and hanging out at the mall.
Getting lost on the way to AAA and then ordering Trip Ticks that will take us to opposite coasts.
Staying up until 4 am every night.
Hanging out on my rarely-used patio furniture so that she could smoke and we could talk. Mostly about "moys" (Nikki's word for guys who are chronologically men, but still behave like boys.)
***
When she left this morning I walked back into the house and felt how empty it was and it was that much easier to put things in boxes. Tonight I had dinner at Rebecca's with Laura and Amanda and Tim and Brooke and we talked about our ultimate deal-breakers with men and then about religion. After the group broke up I went to Laura's to pick up the things that she has been collecting from my house over the past two or three years. CDs (how have I lived without my copy of Standing by the Sea for well over a year?!), my boxed set of the My-So-Called-Life DVDs and lots of books--most of them about bibliography. Rebecca left us there, and when the door closed I started crying, because I thought she was mad at me. She came running back in the door 15 minutes later, worried that I was mad and her and telling me that she'd gone back to her place and cried while she did the dishes.
Feasting and fasting. Living that is more vibrant on the one hand, and deeper on the other. Within two months I'll be living in ordinary time again and it will be different, infused with more meaning and wisdom (I hope) because of this time.
What is useful to know is that, for at least one year, I attended church regularly--first on Sunday mornings, and then on Sunday nights--and for several years I went for the major holidays, and one year I actually did "Inquiry", which, for the uninitiated, is sort of confirmation class for adults. Somewhere in there I heard a very, very good sermon on the liturgical calendar. The priest talked about how the Church calendar is split up into three kinds of time: feast time, fast time and ordinary time. He explained that the purpose of the fasting time is to give us a structured opportunity to meditate on our lives--to slow down and think about the blessings in our lives, but also to consider the nature of suffering, to remember (history, those who have died), to look within ourselves and evaluate our relationship with God, with others and with ourselves, and to identify space for improvement. The function of feast time is to celebrate, to give thanks, to bless one another. To live in joy. Then he argued that the important thing about both feast and fast times is the way in which they can (and are meant to) impact our lives within ordinary time, which constitutes the bulk of the liturgical year. Feasting and fasting provide perspective through which to see the rest of our days--the not-so-special days--imbuing them with more meaning and more intention.
This is one of the things that I find beautiful and profound about the Church; something I can recognize and incorporate in my life, even though I have ultimately decided that Catholicism is not something that I can really do.
***
For the past week my friend Nikki has been staying with me. She is moving out of Texas, to take a great job and to be closer to her family, and to be in a place that she loves, and doesn't just have to tolerate. She had to be out of her place by the 1st, but wanted to stick around another week, so she came here. And it has been great to have her. Not just because she is fun and we have a good time together, but because we are at similar points in our lives--both ending one chapter of our lives and opening another. We are both very much in transition.
Major moments of transition are a secular version of feast and fast time. When you have one foot in one world and one foot in another, life suddenly becomes so much more than it is in ordinary time. Time moves more quickly. There are more opportunities for celebrating and for socializing, but also for becoming introspective and for noticing the profound. It is a time for intense feeling and also for intense experiencing.
I feel lucky to have been able to have my transition overlap with Nikki's, because it has meant that I have been able to spend this non-ordinary time in a kind of communion with her. And over the course of the past week we have squeezed in a lot of living by:
Drinking (a lot) at all our favorite establishments.
Spending an hour in Best Buy trying to buy a radar detector from a nice (but rather clueless) guy named Daniel L.
Returning the radar detector when we realized that well-meaning Dan didn't sell us the right equipment.
Watching the whole third season of Weeds and the whole first season of 30 Rock on DVD.
Running into "the monster" three nights in a row.
Arguing over yoga (her for, me against).
Eating at suburban chain restaurants and hanging out at the mall.
Getting lost on the way to AAA and then ordering Trip Ticks that will take us to opposite coasts.
Staying up until 4 am every night.
Hanging out on my rarely-used patio furniture so that she could smoke and we could talk. Mostly about "moys" (Nikki's word for guys who are chronologically men, but still behave like boys.)
***
When she left this morning I walked back into the house and felt how empty it was and it was that much easier to put things in boxes. Tonight I had dinner at Rebecca's with Laura and Amanda and Tim and Brooke and we talked about our ultimate deal-breakers with men and then about religion. After the group broke up I went to Laura's to pick up the things that she has been collecting from my house over the past two or three years. CDs (how have I lived without my copy of Standing by the Sea for well over a year?!), my boxed set of the My-So-Called-Life DVDs and lots of books--most of them about bibliography. Rebecca left us there, and when the door closed I started crying, because I thought she was mad at me. She came running back in the door 15 minutes later, worried that I was mad and her and telling me that she'd gone back to her place and cried while she did the dishes.
We sat at Cafe Laura and they smoked and we talked about marriage pacts and how my lack of boundaries sometimes causes me to be rude. And Rebecca said, "When people know you are leaving, they feel urgency to show you how they really feel about you."
Feasting and fasting. Living that is more vibrant on the one hand, and deeper on the other. Within two months I'll be living in ordinary time again and it will be different, infused with more meaning and wisdom (I hope) because of this time.
26 June 2008
For You,
James: Thank you for mentioning Robert Culp. I don't think about him often enough.
J-Bro: Missed you before I left.
Some Occasional Reader: I thought that you would appreciate the fact that I went out for a drink tonight and ran into a friend who was wearing patchouli and he wrote down his number for me on a piece of paper that totally smells of it . . . I sort of smell of it too, because he hugged me. (It does linger, does it not?)
Congratulations to Mullins. Damn it. Is there anything that girl can't do? It's depressing for the rest of us who are wondering what we are doing with our lives . . .
Also, I suggest that all of you read Qwanty's blog about smelly boys and Tom Waits. As usual, she is brilliant and insightful. She's sort of preoccupied with her lady-parts these days, but she has good reason, so give her a break.
J-Bro: Missed you before I left.
Some Occasional Reader: I thought that you would appreciate the fact that I went out for a drink tonight and ran into a friend who was wearing patchouli and he wrote down his number for me on a piece of paper that totally smells of it . . . I sort of smell of it too, because he hugged me. (It does linger, does it not?)
Congratulations to Mullins. Damn it. Is there anything that girl can't do? It's depressing for the rest of us who are wondering what we are doing with our lives . . .
Also, I suggest that all of you read Qwanty's blog about smelly boys and Tom Waits. As usual, she is brilliant and insightful. She's sort of preoccupied with her lady-parts these days, but she has good reason, so give her a break.
25 June 2008
Today Is Your Birthday
I have just finished making the annual birthday mix for Dr. Awesome, the awesome doctor. He turned 33 today (yesterday, technically) and I had to miss his soiree at the home of the Moody Blues Bros. due to packing. That is sad. But my guess is that they had a great time, even without me.
I'm not totally happy with this mix. In spite of the fact that Dr. A and Mikey J. were just making fun of me for including a Frank Black song on every mix I've ever made (and this is not strictly true--those of you who got a copy of the 2007 mix know that I didn't include any Frank Black), there is, in fact, a song from Show Me Your Tears on this mix. There are also three covers. That wasn't on purpose either. But one of them is particularly good--the Future Bible Heroes covering "Don't You Want Me." But I'm sure that I'm losing my touch and that is sad.
Anyway, happy birthday to my favorite partner in crime. I'm glad that we got to spend some time together before I have to return to Austin (yuck) and you get swallowed up by Long Island.
And yes, I did say packing. Tomorrow (today, really) I leave the sunny, breezy 80 degree perfection of the PDX summer for Austin, where the weather is less than desirable.
Once I'm there, I'll write a little about what comes next. And I'll finally post Rose Festival pictures. I know you want to see some Rose Festival pictures!
I'm not totally happy with this mix. In spite of the fact that Dr. A and Mikey J. were just making fun of me for including a Frank Black song on every mix I've ever made (and this is not strictly true--those of you who got a copy of the 2007 mix know that I didn't include any Frank Black), there is, in fact, a song from Show Me Your Tears on this mix. There are also three covers. That wasn't on purpose either. But one of them is particularly good--the Future Bible Heroes covering "Don't You Want Me." But I'm sure that I'm losing my touch and that is sad.
Anyway, happy birthday to my favorite partner in crime. I'm glad that we got to spend some time together before I have to return to Austin (yuck) and you get swallowed up by Long Island.
And yes, I did say packing. Tomorrow (today, really) I leave the sunny, breezy 80 degree perfection of the PDX summer for Austin, where the weather is less than desirable.
Once I'm there, I'll write a little about what comes next. And I'll finally post Rose Festival pictures. I know you want to see some Rose Festival pictures!
10 June 2008
Golden Evenings
Friday night I was out working at a coffee shop and my parents called me and asked me to meet them at Acapulco's Gold for dinner. Which was awesome.
My parents love Acapulco's Gold, which is sort of weird, because it isn't really a "parents" kind of place. But they have (according to my mother) great chicken nachos and the strongest, cheapest, and most easily drinkable margaritas I've ever had. The margaritas taste sort of like lemon-lime crystal lite, but with a kick. That sounds disgusting, but it is actually sort of marvelous.
Further, all the servers are heavily tattooed and pierced, there are always a couple of tables of gay boys, and the restaurant is all the way over in deep NW--a long drive from the Happy Valley compound.
But Bruce and the Kare Bear love it.
There are two strange consequences of this for me:
1. Many of my adult family memories actually take place at the Gold. My parents have taken all my out-of-town guests there (Laura has an especially good story about the night that we went there). We've celebrated family birthdays there. Dr. Awesome and I took our parents there together. AND, the Gold is where my brother and sister-in-law told us that they were having a baby. (Not just any baby, it turns out, but rather the lovely Lady E.)
2. Because so many of my family memories take place at the Gold, but also so many of my 20-something memories happened there too, I have some serious cognitive dissonance about the place. After all, I also have memories of going there with Anita and Katie (Katie got so drunk BEFORE dinner that she spent most of the meal outside throwing up). And of the time that I walked there with Emily after work at the pharm and we split 2 pitchers of margaritas (which could easily kill a horse) and then walked back to the pharm and, because I was still drunk, I had to take the # 15 bus down Belmont and call my dad to pick me up. And there have been lots of nights there with Qwanty (when she dated the bun-wearing guy) and Dr. Awesome and my brother and who knows who else.
I don't mind Acapulco's Gold as a crossroads for my youthful memories and my family memories, but shoot me if I ever start hanging out at the Space Room or BOG with my parents--it'll be all over then.
My parents love Acapulco's Gold, which is sort of weird, because it isn't really a "parents" kind of place. But they have (according to my mother) great chicken nachos and the strongest, cheapest, and most easily drinkable margaritas I've ever had. The margaritas taste sort of like lemon-lime crystal lite, but with a kick. That sounds disgusting, but it is actually sort of marvelous.
Further, all the servers are heavily tattooed and pierced, there are always a couple of tables of gay boys, and the restaurant is all the way over in deep NW--a long drive from the Happy Valley compound.
But Bruce and the Kare Bear love it.
There are two strange consequences of this for me:
1. Many of my adult family memories actually take place at the Gold. My parents have taken all my out-of-town guests there (Laura has an especially good story about the night that we went there). We've celebrated family birthdays there. Dr. Awesome and I took our parents there together. AND, the Gold is where my brother and sister-in-law told us that they were having a baby. (Not just any baby, it turns out, but rather the lovely Lady E.)
2. Because so many of my family memories take place at the Gold, but also so many of my 20-something memories happened there too, I have some serious cognitive dissonance about the place. After all, I also have memories of going there with Anita and Katie (Katie got so drunk BEFORE dinner that she spent most of the meal outside throwing up). And of the time that I walked there with Emily after work at the pharm and we split 2 pitchers of margaritas (which could easily kill a horse) and then walked back to the pharm and, because I was still drunk, I had to take the # 15 bus down Belmont and call my dad to pick me up. And there have been lots of nights there with Qwanty (when she dated the bun-wearing guy) and Dr. Awesome and my brother and who knows who else.
I don't mind Acapulco's Gold as a crossroads for my youthful memories and my family memories, but shoot me if I ever start hanging out at the Space Room or BOG with my parents--it'll be all over then.
02 June 2008
Rules to Sing By
Late-ish last night I got back from spending the weekend at the chalet (or as Dr. Awesome calls it, the "shallot") with Jane. Spending time with Jane always convinces me that I want to sing karaoke. This is because Jane has a deep political and philosophical fondness for karaoke since it is, according to her, the most democratic of all leisure activities. (Everyone gets a moment on the stage, other singers understand that it is important to be a good audience, it is less about talent and more about heart, so on and so on.)
The problem is that I'm not built right for karaoke. Sadly, I do care about sounding decent. I am not a "performer," so I don't have the option of pleasing a crowd by being purely entertaining. (Whatever that means. For instance, I can't jump on a table and belt out "Sweet Caroline" like Andy Z.) As a result, I'm really uptight about picking the right song, and then I get honestly nervous until I get called. So, I'm not really much fun.
This is completely exacerbated by the fact that (and try to hold in your surprise about this one, readers) I am sort of a control freak, so I can't get drunk as a way to enjoy the karaoke experience and calm the nerves. In fact, I tend to only engage in karaoke when completely sober.
Let's be honest, people, I'm just not that much fun.
But I do (and I say this very, very self-consciously) love to sing. So I can't NOT sing karaoke, if it is offered to me.
As a result, I have developed a set of strict rules for choosing karaoke songs for myself. Here, for the first time in print (well, not print, but you know what I mean) are:
Kristin's Rules for Karaoke Song Selection:
1. The song must be under 4 minutes. No one wants me up there for the whole of "Carry on Wayward Son" or the long version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" or anything by Meat Loaf. It's too long. I don't need that much stage time.
2. The song must not have an intro, outro or bridge that lasts more than about 4 measures. I get nervous. So I don't want time to wonder what to do with myself (and particularly my hands) while I am up there. I want it to be all singing, all the time, if possible. You do too. No one wants to watch me wring my hands onstage during a guitar solo.
3. The song must be in my range. No struggling to make high or low notes. That's a bad scene.
4. The song must not have any potentially embarrassing lyrics. Hey, I know that my brother once won a karaoke contest by doing a ripping version of the Divinyls' "I Touch Myself", but I couldn't get through it in front of strangers. Or people I know. I just couldn't get through it. I am a lady, after all.
5. No power ballads. This one breaks my heart, because no one wants to bust out some "Angel" or "What About Love" or (the king of all power ballads) "Still Lovin' You" as I do. But power ballads usually break 3 or 4 out of the other criteria, and so I have had to ban them as a class. These are songs that, sadly, are relegated to my car.
6. The song must have lyrics that are already completely known to me. I'm going to watch the words the whole time that I'm singing, but it isn't because I don't already know them. It is because I don't want to make eye contact with anyone watching me. I don't want to screw up, and the best way not to screw up is to already know the words.
These are some songs that meet all the criteria above, and that I have thus approved for possible karaoke choices: "Manic Monday", "Johnny Angel", "Teenager in Love" (which becomes somewhat more inappropriate the older I get), "Love is all Around", and, occasionally, "Ramblin' Man". I have also recently come around to thinking that I should add the Violent Femmes song "American Music"--there are lots of fun uh-uh-ohs in that one . . .
The problem is that I'm not built right for karaoke. Sadly, I do care about sounding decent. I am not a "performer," so I don't have the option of pleasing a crowd by being purely entertaining. (Whatever that means. For instance, I can't jump on a table and belt out "Sweet Caroline" like Andy Z.) As a result, I'm really uptight about picking the right song, and then I get honestly nervous until I get called. So, I'm not really much fun.
This is completely exacerbated by the fact that (and try to hold in your surprise about this one, readers) I am sort of a control freak, so I can't get drunk as a way to enjoy the karaoke experience and calm the nerves. In fact, I tend to only engage in karaoke when completely sober.
Let's be honest, people, I'm just not that much fun.
But I do (and I say this very, very self-consciously) love to sing. So I can't NOT sing karaoke, if it is offered to me.
As a result, I have developed a set of strict rules for choosing karaoke songs for myself. Here, for the first time in print (well, not print, but you know what I mean) are:
Kristin's Rules for Karaoke Song Selection:
1. The song must be under 4 minutes. No one wants me up there for the whole of "Carry on Wayward Son" or the long version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" or anything by Meat Loaf. It's too long. I don't need that much stage time.
2. The song must not have an intro, outro or bridge that lasts more than about 4 measures. I get nervous. So I don't want time to wonder what to do with myself (and particularly my hands) while I am up there. I want it to be all singing, all the time, if possible. You do too. No one wants to watch me wring my hands onstage during a guitar solo.
3. The song must be in my range. No struggling to make high or low notes. That's a bad scene.
4. The song must not have any potentially embarrassing lyrics. Hey, I know that my brother once won a karaoke contest by doing a ripping version of the Divinyls' "I Touch Myself", but I couldn't get through it in front of strangers. Or people I know. I just couldn't get through it. I am a lady, after all.
5. No power ballads. This one breaks my heart, because no one wants to bust out some "Angel" or "What About Love" or (the king of all power ballads) "Still Lovin' You" as I do. But power ballads usually break 3 or 4 out of the other criteria, and so I have had to ban them as a class. These are songs that, sadly, are relegated to my car.
6. The song must have lyrics that are already completely known to me. I'm going to watch the words the whole time that I'm singing, but it isn't because I don't already know them. It is because I don't want to make eye contact with anyone watching me. I don't want to screw up, and the best way not to screw up is to already know the words.
These are some songs that meet all the criteria above, and that I have thus approved for possible karaoke choices: "Manic Monday", "Johnny Angel", "Teenager in Love" (which becomes somewhat more inappropriate the older I get), "Love is all Around", and, occasionally, "Ramblin' Man". I have also recently come around to thinking that I should add the Violent Femmes song "American Music"--there are lots of fun uh-uh-ohs in that one . . .
23 May 2008
Feels Like Vacation
I'm having a slightly hard time with the transition from Austin to Portland. It's hard to go from 95 and sunny to 62 and rainy (even if you LOVE the rain, as I do). I went to pick up Mikey for drinks tonight (on Foster--THAT is awesome) and he made fun of the fact that I was wearing flip flops.
The truth is, I didn't even get out of bed for most of the day because every time I tried, I nearly froze. It turns out that the air conditioning was on in the house. On accident. It was seriously cold, but it was also a good excuse for watching back-to-back episodes of Nanny 911 while curled up in a quilt, eating toast with strawberry jam.
Tomorrow I'm heading to Eugene--my dad's there to see a track meet this weekend--and then my parents and I are going to the chalet, and Ryan, Joy and the kids will meet up with us there later in the weekend. Good times.
I brought my niece, the lovely Lady E, two pairs of hello kitty socks (I like to have something in my carry-on to bring her when I get into town). She was really excited about them, and told me that she, "loves hello kitty" and has a new hello kitty toothbrush.
I am so proud.
That's about all the news. If you can even call it that.
The truth is, I didn't even get out of bed for most of the day because every time I tried, I nearly froze. It turns out that the air conditioning was on in the house. On accident. It was seriously cold, but it was also a good excuse for watching back-to-back episodes of Nanny 911 while curled up in a quilt, eating toast with strawberry jam.
Tomorrow I'm heading to Eugene--my dad's there to see a track meet this weekend--and then my parents and I are going to the chalet, and Ryan, Joy and the kids will meet up with us there later in the weekend. Good times.
I brought my niece, the lovely Lady E, two pairs of hello kitty socks (I like to have something in my carry-on to bring her when I get into town). She was really excited about them, and told me that she, "loves hello kitty" and has a new hello kitty toothbrush.
I am so proud.
That's about all the news. If you can even call it that.
08 May 2008
Thursday Night
Thai food. "Cute and skirty." Warm and healing Jesus hands. Driving through North Austin neighborhoods. "Bohemian Like You." Rock star parking. Juicy limes and a bartender who knows how to squeeze them. Rooftop lounge. Boy energy and green shirts. "Won't it be sad when?" Pinning a dress. Perfect temperature. Not seeing the band we were seeing. Toes out the window. Phish food and half baked. "Are your toes waving at me?" Big Daddy. Sleepy, home, future, now, future.
01 May 2008
In the interest
of full disclosure, I feel like I should admit that I went to see Baby Mama with Nikki last weekend. She had good reasons for wanting to see it--particularly in terms of wanting to see how the film dealt with race. I had no such critical curiosity. I just went because she suggested it, and it looked sort of funny.
Now, I'm not going to spend a lot of time really "reviewing" this film, but I thought that I would share with you some of the impressions/experiences that accompanied seeing the film.
1. What is truly great is about this film is seeing 2 women who have serious on-screen chemistry and are funny. This is a very, very rare thing. I read a review that suggested that this was a "chick flick" which actually surprised me. I didn't think of it as such when I saw the trailer, although I can understand that categorization now that I've seen the film. That said, I think that it does Fey/Poehler a disservice as a comedy team because I'm pretty sure that they can make dudes laugh. And everyone (guys and lesbians alike) seems to understand that Tina Fey has that smart/sexy thing going on. (Like someone I know who occasionally reads this blog, so I will not call her out, but I think that most of us know who I am talking about. OR like a certain short, brunette, bespectacled and nervous PSU prof--)
2. I found too much of the humor in the beginning of the film uncomfortable because I realized I was laughing because it felt true. In one scene, Tina Fey, who now knows that her t-shaped uterus is not conducive to conceiving and bearing a child, coos and waves to a baby looking at her over its mother's shoulder. Then she leans in and actually makes contact with the baby. I have done this. I have, for my own gratification, talked to, made eyes at, and even touched, some stranger's baby. It's disturbing, I know, but it's like I can't help it. (And apparently I am not the only woman to have done so.) Anyway, I can assure you that this is not a comfortable thing to see reflected back to you in a film.
3. The film makes fun of Whole Foods. And that is funny. Steve Martin is integral to the humor surrounding this storyline, and that makes it even funnier.
4. This was much more of a romantic comedy than either of us expected. I don't know if that is good or bad. Since I generally hate romantic comedies (except Secretary--which I know some of you don't consider a romantic comedy, and If Lucy Fell--shut your damn trap, Marcus), I suppose that is mostly bad.
5. (And this is actually the thing that I most want to say about the experience of this film.) The worst part of Baby Mama, for me, was having to buy my ticket to it. Because I had to say the name of the film. Out loud. And that turned out to be a problem. There are two issues here: first, I think that I was a little embarrassed to be seeing the film in the first place. And I am somewhat concerned about my "cool" in that I DO, on occasion, worry that the book or music that I am buying, or the film that I am renting or seeing somehow makes me not look at all cool. I am guilty of trying to pass some of this consumption off as "ironic". It is because I do actually care what people who work around these particular cultural products think about me. It's lame. I know it is lame. I know that people who work at bookstores aren't all that cool (given the fact that I have worked at bookstores myself, and know lots of other people who have too), but I'm still weirdly worried about it.
This, of course, all goes back to the horrible over-identification I (and many others--c'mon, a lot of you do this too) have with my "things." I know in my head that I am not my CD collection, my library, my DVDs (oh god, I wonder what 8 seasons worth of Charmed really says about me--), my jewelry and barrettes, but part of me does believe that these things are who I am. And, frankly, there are some possessions that do, in fact, seem to stand in for me to the world outside. (I am thinking specifically about my hello kitty traveler's mug, which I am starting to develop a bit of a complex about.) What all of this means is that I am quite susceptible to the judgment of others about these things, particularly to the judgment of those who pedal the crap with which I surround myself.
But maybe that is a bit of a digression. The second reason that buying the ticket pained me was that I had to utter the phrase "baby mama" aloud, to a stranger. I am not linguistically daring. This is part of the reason why I suck at foreign languages. I don't like to sound stupid. And saying a phrase like "baby mama", which has no business coming out of my mouth, ever, for any reason, makes me feel stupid. And, frankly, I can't say it without sounding really uptight and awkward and, well, white. The phrase sticks in my mouth, I feel and sound self-conscious using it, and it ends up sounding that much more ridiculous. It is very much like when I try to say something in French, which also comes out sounding really uptight, awkward, and, well, American.
Ultimately it is probably good for me to have to use language that I am not comfortable with and that I don't own. But I couldn't help thinking that someone was out there laughing at me for doing it--and paying to do it--in this case--
Now, I'm not going to spend a lot of time really "reviewing" this film, but I thought that I would share with you some of the impressions/experiences that accompanied seeing the film.
1. What is truly great is about this film is seeing 2 women who have serious on-screen chemistry and are funny. This is a very, very rare thing. I read a review that suggested that this was a "chick flick" which actually surprised me. I didn't think of it as such when I saw the trailer, although I can understand that categorization now that I've seen the film. That said, I think that it does Fey/Poehler a disservice as a comedy team because I'm pretty sure that they can make dudes laugh. And everyone (guys and lesbians alike) seems to understand that Tina Fey has that smart/sexy thing going on. (Like someone I know who occasionally reads this blog, so I will not call her out, but I think that most of us know who I am talking about. OR like a certain short, brunette, bespectacled and nervous PSU prof--)
2. I found too much of the humor in the beginning of the film uncomfortable because I realized I was laughing because it felt true. In one scene, Tina Fey, who now knows that her t-shaped uterus is not conducive to conceiving and bearing a child, coos and waves to a baby looking at her over its mother's shoulder. Then she leans in and actually makes contact with the baby. I have done this. I have, for my own gratification, talked to, made eyes at, and even touched, some stranger's baby. It's disturbing, I know, but it's like I can't help it. (And apparently I am not the only woman to have done so.) Anyway, I can assure you that this is not a comfortable thing to see reflected back to you in a film.
3. The film makes fun of Whole Foods. And that is funny. Steve Martin is integral to the humor surrounding this storyline, and that makes it even funnier.
4. This was much more of a romantic comedy than either of us expected. I don't know if that is good or bad. Since I generally hate romantic comedies (except Secretary--which I know some of you don't consider a romantic comedy, and If Lucy Fell--shut your damn trap, Marcus), I suppose that is mostly bad.
5. (And this is actually the thing that I most want to say about the experience of this film.) The worst part of Baby Mama, for me, was having to buy my ticket to it. Because I had to say the name of the film. Out loud. And that turned out to be a problem. There are two issues here: first, I think that I was a little embarrassed to be seeing the film in the first place. And I am somewhat concerned about my "cool" in that I DO, on occasion, worry that the book or music that I am buying, or the film that I am renting or seeing somehow makes me not look at all cool. I am guilty of trying to pass some of this consumption off as "ironic". It is because I do actually care what people who work around these particular cultural products think about me. It's lame. I know it is lame. I know that people who work at bookstores aren't all that cool (given the fact that I have worked at bookstores myself, and know lots of other people who have too), but I'm still weirdly worried about it.
This, of course, all goes back to the horrible over-identification I (and many others--c'mon, a lot of you do this too) have with my "things." I know in my head that I am not my CD collection, my library, my DVDs (oh god, I wonder what 8 seasons worth of Charmed really says about me--), my jewelry and barrettes, but part of me does believe that these things are who I am. And, frankly, there are some possessions that do, in fact, seem to stand in for me to the world outside. (I am thinking specifically about my hello kitty traveler's mug, which I am starting to develop a bit of a complex about.) What all of this means is that I am quite susceptible to the judgment of others about these things, particularly to the judgment of those who pedal the crap with which I surround myself.
But maybe that is a bit of a digression. The second reason that buying the ticket pained me was that I had to utter the phrase "baby mama" aloud, to a stranger. I am not linguistically daring. This is part of the reason why I suck at foreign languages. I don't like to sound stupid. And saying a phrase like "baby mama", which has no business coming out of my mouth, ever, for any reason, makes me feel stupid. And, frankly, I can't say it without sounding really uptight and awkward and, well, white. The phrase sticks in my mouth, I feel and sound self-conscious using it, and it ends up sounding that much more ridiculous. It is very much like when I try to say something in French, which also comes out sounding really uptight, awkward, and, well, American.
Ultimately it is probably good for me to have to use language that I am not comfortable with and that I don't own. But I couldn't help thinking that someone was out there laughing at me for doing it--and paying to do it--in this case--
25 April 2008
Renumeration
So-----I know that I already wrote today, and I'm starting a dangerous precedent by actually providing some sort of regular content, but I have had a delightful evening, and felt like writing about it.
After a week of temperatures and humidity that were too high, it is finally storming tonight--the air is cool and clean and there is rain (but not too much of it) and some truly amazing lightening, which, once I am done writing this I am going to watch out the skylight from my bed.
Tonight Jennifer and I dressed up and went out to dinner at the Eastside Cafe to celebrate the beginning of her writing successes (some contest wins for her first two novels and acceptance to the Tin House summer program) and to whatever small help I've been to her as her amateur creative editor and literary agent. (Seriously amateur. Since I have no chops whatsoever in either of these fields.) Still, she is on her way to being a serious literary talent, as far as I am concerned, and I'll be awfully happy to be able to say in the future that "I knew her when . . . " and "one time she took me out to dinner."*
We had a lovely meal, and too much wine (which I am sure shows not at all in this post) and we talked about mothers, geniuses, Steve Almond (one of her choices of people to workshop with at Tin House. How jealous am I about that.), the relationship between feminism and hetero sex (a topic about which I have a lot to say), new cars, 12 Angry Men and restaurants that serve Brie appetizers. We both had some costume malfunctions (I was wearing a dress that consistently needed readjustment so that I remained covered and she lost a shoe in a puddle on the way to the car) and her husband called to make sure that we were doing alright in the storm.
All in all, it was a perfectly lovely evening. I don't write much about sort of everyday happenings, but sometimes you have a night that you know that you are going to remember for a long time and that you are going to think back on nostalgically, and this was one of those nights. I think that it is sometimes nice to acknowledge those things when they happen.
I hope that you all had equally lovely Friday nights.
*By the way, if any of you are looking for an amateur (although rather talented) literary agent/creative editor, I do work for cheap. Wine and dine me and I'll make things happen. Just ask Jen. Or Dr. Awesome.
After a week of temperatures and humidity that were too high, it is finally storming tonight--the air is cool and clean and there is rain (but not too much of it) and some truly amazing lightening, which, once I am done writing this I am going to watch out the skylight from my bed.
Tonight Jennifer and I dressed up and went out to dinner at the Eastside Cafe to celebrate the beginning of her writing successes (some contest wins for her first two novels and acceptance to the Tin House summer program) and to whatever small help I've been to her as her amateur creative editor and literary agent. (Seriously amateur. Since I have no chops whatsoever in either of these fields.) Still, she is on her way to being a serious literary talent, as far as I am concerned, and I'll be awfully happy to be able to say in the future that "I knew her when . . . " and "one time she took me out to dinner."*
We had a lovely meal, and too much wine (which I am sure shows not at all in this post) and we talked about mothers, geniuses, Steve Almond (one of her choices of people to workshop with at Tin House. How jealous am I about that.), the relationship between feminism and hetero sex (a topic about which I have a lot to say), new cars, 12 Angry Men and restaurants that serve Brie appetizers. We both had some costume malfunctions (I was wearing a dress that consistently needed readjustment so that I remained covered and she lost a shoe in a puddle on the way to the car) and her husband called to make sure that we were doing alright in the storm.
All in all, it was a perfectly lovely evening. I don't write much about sort of everyday happenings, but sometimes you have a night that you know that you are going to remember for a long time and that you are going to think back on nostalgically, and this was one of those nights. I think that it is sometimes nice to acknowledge those things when they happen.
I hope that you all had equally lovely Friday nights.
*By the way, if any of you are looking for an amateur (although rather talented) literary agent/creative editor, I do work for cheap. Wine and dine me and I'll make things happen. Just ask Jen. Or Dr. Awesome.
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