beautiful, funny, sad & true

Tossed In, an avid and extremely prolific blogger in his own right, and I were talking the other day about the bad reputation that blogs have. Most people don’t consider them legitimate forms of writing, even though more and more blogs every day are cited as sources for (start reading in stentorian tones. . .now) ’serious’ news and reporting.

We wondered what it will take to get blogging taken more seriously. We didn’t really come up with an answer - other than to keep writing as well and as interestingly as we can, of course - but we both agreed that there’s more than enough material out there cluttering up the internet that gives bloggers in general a bad name. I’m sure this blog would NEVER fall into the ‘clutter’ category. Noooo way. Not even remotely possible.

I don’t have any delusions. I write to help myself remember things, and to have fun, and to share things that, with any luck, other people will enjoy as well. So far, most have. Some have not; c’est la vie. The precious few dissenters over the years have been blow-darted, or crushed by boulders, or bisected by light-rail commuter trains. In a few cases, pianos have mysteriously fallen on them from a great height. If you ask me to my face, I will vehemently deny all knowledge of these things.

But that, as they say, is neither here nor there; back to Tossed In. He called at eight o’ clock on Thursday morning to invite me to see a play that night. I had a gig with Susie, but luckily it was a super-early one, so I was able to go, and I’m very glad that I was. The play was A Long Christmas Ride Home, and it was strange, and surprising, and excellent. We may go see it a second time, which would actually be his third time. Afterwards, we went to the Blue Monk, the jazz club up the street from the theater, to say hello to some of the actors (he pretty much knows all of them, I know only a few) and to get some of the Blue Monk’s excellent food.

In other news, I’m borrowing a theremin for the next few days. This makes me very, very happy. One of my friends in the play-reading group wrote a semi-biographical play about the instrument’s inventor, and the group will be reading it this week. Since I’m the music guy in the group, I kept wondering what instrument I could bring that would sound even close to that. I was going to bring the cello, because it could be used in a similar way, but when Matt suggested I use his theremin, I jumped at the chance. Yay! I just know that I’m going to end up wanting (and buying) one of my own after this.

And while we’re on the subject, can I just take a minute to say how much I appreciate the play-reading group? Cause I do. They’re such tremendous people, who are interesting and professional and. . .alive, in a way that is very refreshing. It’s always nice to be around people who really ‘get it.’ They’re such a source of entertainment, friendship, and camaraderie that I make it a priority to be there, no matter how busy the rest of my life gets.

I’m thinking of rearranging the furniture in my apartment, but I don’t quite feel up to that task just yet. I don’t have a Plan for it, but I have a feeling I’m just going to end up doing it one weekend in the near future. It’s been about nine months or so since the last rearrangement, which was really more of a replacement than a rearrangement, because I got rid of some bookshelves and a computer desk that I’ve had for ages, and replaced them, but the new stuff is pretty much in the same spot that the old stuff was in, and it’s getting to be about time to shake things up again.

Wow, that was a really long sentence.

Oh yeah. . .and you can stop reading in stentorian tones now. Thank you.

OneYearAgo

Tonight was supposed to be a rehearsal for my gig tomorrow, but the rehearsal got cancelled.  So naturally, instead of sitting at home doing the things I should be doing - such as laundry - I looked for something fun to do, and tonight it was the Blue Cranes.

I called and texted and e-mailed, trying to get some friends to come to the show, but the overall concensus was that it was too short notice, so I ended up going by myself.  I did see some musician friends there, however, which I had a feeling might be the case.

My friend Keith is the bass player in this very swanky and melodic jazz group.  I’ve seen them before, but tonight was the release party for their new album (at one of my favorite venues), so I had no choice but to go.  And yes, I bought a CD.

Super good times.

You’ll also be interested to know that I checked in on yesterday’s fire twice today - once on my lunch break and once on the way home from work - and both times, there was still smoke coming up from the basement of the building.  I didn’t get a chance to watch the news, but I do know that at 5:30 this evening, the site was still smoking noticeably, and there were plenty of fire trucks and camera crews on the scene.

But right now, it’s time to chill out and listen to my new Blue Cranes CD.

Northeast Broadway in Portland was quite the happening place today.

When I came home for lunch–I live off Broadway, in the Irvington neighborhood–I stopped at the grocery store on 30th and Broadway first. As I was leaving, there were police cars blocking off Broadway, because a car had driven up onto the median and ripped out its transmission, sending pieces of metal skittering out all over the roadway.

At about 4:30 this afternoon, the old Albina Fuel building caught fire, and it’s still burning strongly as I’m writing this. I drive not too far from there on my way home from work, so I decided to take a smallish detour to hopefully get a closer look, or possibly even a picture - yes, I was one of THOSE people today - but the road was closed off, and all of the drivers were being diverted into the surrounding neighborhoods. The black smoke and occasional flames were clearly visible, even from many blocks away. There isn’t much wind, luckily, so the firefighters are already starting to get the fire under control.

Tonight I’m going to see a documentary about the closing of a famous record store in Northwest Portland, which has been a neighborhood mainstay for thirty years. It’s going to be a bit surreal, because the filmmaker is a woman I actually kinda know. I came across her profile on MySpace, on a page dedicated to a recent Japanese movie that I really enjoyed. “Wow,” I wrote to her, “we have enough in common that it seems like we’d make really great friends, at the very least. Take a look and see what you think.” So we met for coffee, and talked for over three hours. We went for a walk up and down Northwest 23rd, and even went to that record store for a while, before we had any idea that it was going to be closing its doors. We had a really great time, but I haven’t seen her since. Which is kinda weird, and I don’t have a good answer for why we aren’t closer than we are. I thought for sure that we would be. Just another instance, I suppose, to illustrate that sometimes things don’t work out in quite the way you think they’re going to. She’s tried to come to some of the things I’ve been involved with, and I’ve tried to come to some of the things that she’s involved with, but we both have fairly crazy schedules, so it hasn’t happened yet. Tonight may very well be the first time that we run into each other.

Weird.

Should be cool, though.

I gotta go. Sort of nowish.

I woke up this morning with this ancient They Might Be Giants song burning a hole in my skull.

I thought it would make for better (and funnier!) reading, if I would edit it a bit, and then just turn it into a miniature short story.

A woman came up to me and said, “I’d like to poison your mind with wrong ideas that appeal to you, though I am not unkind.” She looked at me; I looked at something written across her scalp, and these are the words that it faintly said, as I tried to call for help:

“There’s only one thing that I know how to do well, and I’ve often been told that you only can do what you know how to do well, and thats be you. Be what you’re like. Be like yourself. And so I’m having a wonderful time, but I’d rather be whistling in the dark.”

A man came up to me and said, “I’d like to change your mind by hitting it with a rock, though I am not unkind.” We laughed at his little joke, and then I happily walked away and hit my head on the wall of the jail, where the two of us live today.

There’s only one thing that I like, and that is whistling in the dark.

Hilarious. If I was any kind of graphic designer, I’d have found a picture of a woman with a shaved head, and Photoshopped that quote around her scalp in Gothic calligraphy. (I know, I know, ‘photoshopped’ isn’t a real verb! It’s called artistic license.) Perhaps that kind of picture manipulation is a skill that you have, and you’d like to take on this little project. Perhaps you’re a tattoo artist, and you will one day be lucky enough to find some woman with a shaved head who would like to have “There’s only one thing I know how to do well. . .”, et cetera, emblazoned on her head forever. You just never know.

After all this, of course, I wanted to know what the phrase ‘whistling in the dark’ really means. A quick search showed that it means “confident that something good will happen when it is not at all likely.”

Hunh.

What a strange morning this is already turning out to be. And now it’s time to eat breakfast and pack for my trip to Seattle.

Speaking of which, through a beautiful example of irony, my brother and his family, who live in Seattle–and whose house I’m staying at–will be in Portland this weekend for a little getaway, so that means I’m going to be up in their town while they’re down here in my town at the same time.

Praise the Lord for the gift of laughter.