beautiful, funny, sad & true

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.

Be advised; this will be a very long entry.

Here’s my weekend, in chronological order, with quite a few ‘visual aids’ to help out. As usual, you can click on the pictures to enlarge them.

I left Portland and turned off at the Historic Columbia River Highway. It’s in the process of being restored and gradually reopened bit by bit, so I always like to see what’s been done since the last time I’ve been through.

This cleared-out tunnel made me very happy.

I’m a big fan of abandoned places, and this road has been a fascination of mine ever since I was a little kid. I’m also fascinated by Sam Hill, who is a very influential and interesting person in his own right, and who is tangentially related to the construction of this road. More on him later.

So I continued along the old road, to the eastern section that I rarely get to, and I was rewarded with a clear day and a stunning view.

Then, on the other side of the summit, a view of the road looping back onto itself, in a similar way to that of Crown Point.

From there, I crossed over to the Washington side of the river, and stopped in for a rest on the lawn at the Maryhill Museum. Remember Sam Hill, who I mentioned earlier? He’s the turn-of-the-century multi-millionaire who built this huge ‘castle’ for his wife Mary, along with the recreation of Stonehenge, and the entire little town of Maryhill.

This place is remote now, but a hundred years ago, it was almost unthinkably remote. Sam’s wife Mary was a Seattle socialite, and she was less than thrilled with the idea of living out in this desert wasteland, so she hardly spent any time there before saying, “Thanks, hon, but let’s go back to Seattle now.” Construction of the mansion was completed after Sam’s death, and it was turned into an art museum soon after. Today it boasts one of the largest collections of Rodin sculptures in the world.

And while we’re on the subject of Maryhill Museum, I should mention the peacocks, because there are tons of them living all around the grounds, and they’re an integral part of any visit, as far as I’m concerned.

I’d never seen an albino peacock before. Its tail was particularly amazing; I couldn’t get enough of it. I was hoping it would display for me, but none of them did. They’re all completely unfazed by people walking, picnicking and driving amongst them, and the alpha male went so far as to challenge my car. He walked straight over to it while I was photographing the albino one, and made it clear who was boss, in no uncertain terms. He strutted clear around the back of it, along the passenger side, and then stopped at the front to stare down my unsuspecting Honda.

It was at this point that I started to wonder just what was going to happen next. This little tough guy could quite easily have climbed or jumped onto the hood, and I wasn’t too excited about that prospect. I also knew better than to physically mess with him (there are signs everywhere warning against doing that), but luckily he just circled around until he found what he determined to be its weak spot; just behind the door on the driver’s side quarter panel. He stalked over and started doing this display with his neck, trying to pick a fight, and then began to peck the side of the car repeatedly. He didn’t seem to be doing any damage, so I knelt down and took a bunch of pictures, trying to capture one of those moments. I was able to get close, but capturing a split-second peck is nearly impossible to do, so here’s the best one.

This picture wasn’t touched up with Photoshop or anything. His coloring is really that vivid and beautiful. I decided that I’d had enough of his pecking, so I walked around behind him and opened the door. He was so intent on winning the battle that he didn’t even notice me walking or opening the door (I even leaned out and took a few more pictures of him through the open window), and he watched in triumph as I drove away.

Next picture stop was just outside of Goldendale, Washington, at this abandoned house, with Mount Adams in the background. This view is different every day, and is also especially beautiful when the fog has rolled in. I was glad to have the view of the mountain, though.

Finally rolled in to Yakima in the mid-afternoon, to go to the rehearsal for Chris and Nicole’s wedding. I was the best man, and I also brought my accordion, in order to provide music for the ceremony, which was simple, but very touching and nice. One of my music teachers from high school was there – an amazing surprise – and it was great to see him. Here are some of the pics from the rehearsal night and from the actual wedding the next day.

You can take the girl out of the 80’s, but apparently you can’t take the 80’s out of the girl.

The reception finished about 7:30 or 8:00, and then I drove home for a bit, before DrummerAdam (who lives in Yakima) called to invite me to the SportsCenter to watch my drummer friend Ty play in a cover band. I hadn’t seen Ty since I moved to Portland, so he was completely blown away to see me there on his turf. Very nice. Got home around one in the morning.

Next morning, my mom’s friend came by to join us for lunch, and during that conversation I was reminded of lots of the things that have always driven me crazy about Yakima, and how empty life can be there. I also kept thinking how much more I enjoy life now, in a way I never did back then. Friends are much better, music is much better, dating is much better, natural surroundings are much better. . .in fact, the only thing I can think of that’s better in Yakima is the Mexican food. There’s some good stuff to be had here in Portland, but you can get the real thing in Yakima.

After lunch, I headed out to meet my college friend GuitaristAl at one of said excellent Mexican restaurants. Since I had eaten at my mom’s house, I stuck to chips and salsa (which were fan-friggin’-tastic, by the way) and talked while Al ate his taco salad. So much fun to see him again. He’s really a great guy.

I drove home to Portland via another scenic route, this time over the switchbacks and hills of Highway 142 – it narrows to one lane for a few miles, with a sheer drop of hundreds of feet on one side – and down along the Klickitat River, to the point where it meets up with the Columbia and I turned back downriver toward home. I stopped to take a picture of one of my favorite spots along the way, which is Cape Horn, Washington, where the road clings precariously to the edge of the high cliff wall. Here’s the view.

This view never gets boring. Not even a little bit.

Finally arrived in Portland at 8:30 p.m., unpacked my clothes and climbed right into bed, where I slept for the next ten hours.

Great weekend. Great times. Great friends. Great memories. I can’t believe it was all compressed into three days.

I have to hand it to Tossed In for coming up with the best opening line of a blog that I’ve read in quite a while.

“Considering it was Hitler’s birthday, today was so-so.”

Cracked me up. And silly me for missing such a special occasion. How should someone celebrate that, anyway? What do you get for someone who’s responsible for the deaths of eleven million people? I ask you.

Anyway.

The mixing with Andrea went great, and we’re really satisfied with the results. Special kudos once again to DrummerAdam, who completely ruled on those songs, and every time I listen to them, I’m reminded of that fact.

Saturday I was awakened by a strange knocking sound. I got up and walked into the studio, to find a robin sitting in the tree outside the window, staring in at me.

I also couldn’t help but notice how much snow had fallen overnight, so I walked out front to find this tranquil scene:

I must’ve been quite a sight, in my long-sleeved T-shirt, pajama pants, and Doc Martens with no socks. Well, sometimes looking ridiculous is a small price to pay for the sake of Great Art.

I was the first one awake, since I’d slept (or should I say NOT slept?) in my sleeping bag on the floor in the drum room, so I dinked around online for a while, until everyone else woke up. Once they did, Andrea and I went for a walk through the golf course, to take pictures and just get some fresh air for a while, after being cooped up inside all the day before.

We both took about a million pictures, and good thing we did, too, because all the snow had melted by mid-afternoon.

After we were done with mixing, I drove the hour back to Portland, showered, changed my clothes, and then went on a really great date. We were lucky enough to get two rainbows; one in its actual form, in the sky – “Hey, that’s a good omen!” she said – and the other in sushi form; a rainbow roll. It was a wonderful evening – “Let’s do that a whole bunch more times,” I said – and here’s to a ‘whole bunch more’ weekends just like this one.