Day One: It’s snowing! It’s snowing, snowing, snowing. I hope it sticks. Maybe it’ll stick. Do I have a sled?
Day Two: Everything is white. This is beautiful. No problem. Let’s go pick up a friend at the airport. Four and a half hours of waiting because the Max line froze up. Kill me now.
Day Three: Sledding almost works. There’s a little bit of snow on the ground.
Day Four: It takes 10 minutes to leave the house. Long-johns under jeans, jeans under snow pants, snow pants into snow boots, two sweatshirts and a down vest, coat over the top of it all.
Day Five: Feels like an End of Days Movie. Snow ball fights abound.
Day Six: Movie indoors, under thirty pounds of blankets. Hot tea. Heaven.
Day Seven: Sledding with a boogie board. Reaching face-flapping speeds. Broke up a fight between teenagers at top of sledding hill. Was I ever that big of a dumbass?
Day Eight: Sledding again. Snow down front of coat.
Day Nine: Sledding again. New distance and speed records set.
Day Ten: One movie and a Blazer game watched. Barely left shelter. Worked six hours at the store. Sold out of ice-scrapers.
Day Eleven: Didn’t leave house until 2:30pm. Getting cabin fever. Long for cross-country skis. Marshall Islands. A sunburn. Went to Starbucks inside Safeway just to get out. Everywhere else is closed. Deli is packed.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Published Poems
OK, so two poems, "Montana Trailor Life," and "Morning After Lightning on Kearny" of mine are in the newest edition of Four and Twenty Poetry.
Go and check it out. There is some other really good stuff there besides mine too!
Go and check it out. There is some other really good stuff there besides mine too!
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Stuck on the Max
Thursday, December 11, 2008
On Success
This is what my father tells me when he speaks of success:
“My boy,” he says, “do everything just a little better. Put a little more into everything and you’ll be great. Where is the difference between Dostoyevsky and the author of a gossip article? Is it in the single word? The single sentence? The single paragraph? Maybe old Dostoyevsky chooses a word that’s just a little, tiny, small and insignificant amount better than that hack writing for People. You look at the single word and you say, ‘well, damn, Dostoyevsky don’t have too much on this other guy.’ But that adds up, my boy, it all adds up.”
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Lost California
Outside, P took photos of Alex leaning against a wild-west mural and taking desperate drags on the dog-end of a last chance cigarette.
He looked like a desperado.
Like a movie poster.
Like a new suit in a shop window the day of the dance.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
The Smallest Hours
In the smallest hours, when all else is asleep, things seem the biggest. Like a balloon wrestled from a hand by the wind, suddenly things of great height and consequence are possible. Extraordinary ideas and fantasies march through the brain and the body responds with clenching and scheming.
Action! Action! Action!
Sometimes the things that come in the smallest hours are phantoms pumped up and away from reality and spread over the peace of the night with claws and teeth bared. There is nothing you can do that is worth anything, they hiss into ears and dreams, everyone else is better, more accomplished, and you have failed again. The body begins to sweat. Your paper for tomorrow is crap. You will not pass the class. Hands grab hold of sheet’s edge as if waiting in a boat for the storm to break. Your interview will be a disaster. You will be jobless, friendless and wifeless. Eyelids flutter in the wasteland between asleep and awake and the shapes of towels hung to dry look like villains holding knives. You will eat too much and then you will not look fabulous and you will not surprise anyone at the high school reunion.
Awake finally, with brain washed clean by morning, the struggles and doubts from the night before color the day in washed out grey’s.
Sometimes it is different though. Sometimes something purer in nature takes hold of these smallest hours and alights them to fly unabated through sweet skies of possibility, creativity and productivity. Minds snap to thought smartly and in line. You are on your way now, this is what you’ve been trying to get at this whole time. Bodies cease to grow weary and eyelids remain light. You’ve worked for hours now, can you believe it? For hours and no rest. Toes tap happily on the floor beneath. I’ll be the walking dead tomorrow and I don’t care. I don’t care at all.
It is after that the mornings seem the best. The smallest hours gave license to the deepest and best fantasies, and even if in the daytime the scheming seems silly and impossible, distance was covered and progress was made. Extraordinary ideas and fantasies had marched through the brain and the had body responded with clenching and scheming.
Action! Action! Action!
Action! Action! Action!
Sometimes the things that come in the smallest hours are phantoms pumped up and away from reality and spread over the peace of the night with claws and teeth bared. There is nothing you can do that is worth anything, they hiss into ears and dreams, everyone else is better, more accomplished, and you have failed again. The body begins to sweat. Your paper for tomorrow is crap. You will not pass the class. Hands grab hold of sheet’s edge as if waiting in a boat for the storm to break. Your interview will be a disaster. You will be jobless, friendless and wifeless. Eyelids flutter in the wasteland between asleep and awake and the shapes of towels hung to dry look like villains holding knives. You will eat too much and then you will not look fabulous and you will not surprise anyone at the high school reunion.
Awake finally, with brain washed clean by morning, the struggles and doubts from the night before color the day in washed out grey’s.
Sometimes it is different though. Sometimes something purer in nature takes hold of these smallest hours and alights them to fly unabated through sweet skies of possibility, creativity and productivity. Minds snap to thought smartly and in line. You are on your way now, this is what you’ve been trying to get at this whole time. Bodies cease to grow weary and eyelids remain light. You’ve worked for hours now, can you believe it? For hours and no rest. Toes tap happily on the floor beneath. I’ll be the walking dead tomorrow and I don’t care. I don’t care at all.
It is after that the mornings seem the best. The smallest hours gave license to the deepest and best fantasies, and even if in the daytime the scheming seems silly and impossible, distance was covered and progress was made. Extraordinary ideas and fantasies had marched through the brain and the had body responded with clenching and scheming.
Action! Action! Action!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
The Awkwardness
Things can get awkward in the retail business. This mostly comes because I try and be stupidly charming in the corniest of ways. Here are some of my favorites from the last few weeks.
“Hello ma’am, how are you doing?”
“Don’t call me ma’am. I’m not that old yet.”
“No you’re definitely not. You’re a spring chicken.”
“I’m a chicken?”
“I didn’t say that. Who said chicken?”
“How are those jeans working for you, sir?”
“Um, they’re OK… let me ask you a question, are they OK in the butt?”
“Excuse me?”
“The butt, are they OK, in the, you know, well, hey, take a look. Are they OK in the butt?”
“It looks, it looks just great.”
“Really?”
Phone rings in the background.
“Oops, I got to take this.”
“Wow it’s really raining out there, ma’am.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Don’t get too wet.”
“OK… Good advise, kid…”
“Any time.”
“How’s life, ma’am?”
“Terrible, my husband ran off with another woman.”
“Wow. That’s… that’s terrible.”
“I know. That’s why I said terrible.”
“Well, you look like you’re getting through it OK.
“It’s hard to wake up most mornings.”
“Wow, yeah, I heard that… so… out for a little shopping therapy, I see, haha.”
“Yeah, my sister and I are going away for the weekend and we’re going to look fabulous. Her husband left her for someone else six months ago.”
“Runs in the family, hey?”
“What?”
“Um, nothing. So, you dating around now?”
“Yeah, but I read this book about dating and the book says no sex with new guys for a month. It’s like, God, a whole month, really?” Lady shakes her fist at the sky and laughs so hard she cries. A beat passes between us and the tears keep coming even after the smile fades away.
“Well, um, that’s going to be $86.50.”
“You take Discover?” she says and buries her face in a hankie.
“We certainly do.”
“Hey, do you have black jeans?” a man asks me.
“Yes, we do,” I say.
“You are NOT getting black jeans,” says his wife.
“OK,” says the man.
“Give him the boot cut jeans,” the wife says.
“OK,” I say.
“I don’t like boot cut,” the man says.
“They make your butt look good,” the wife says. “And I’m not letting you get black jeans, damn it. Don’t you hate black jeans?” she asks me.
“I, I, well, I’m not fond of them, but…” I stammer.
“See, everyone hates black jeans. Now go try the boot cut jeans on.”
“Yes, honey.”
“Sir, that’s a woman’s sweater.”
And on and on…
“Hello ma’am, how are you doing?”
“Don’t call me ma’am. I’m not that old yet.”
“No you’re definitely not. You’re a spring chicken.”
“I’m a chicken?”
“I didn’t say that. Who said chicken?”
“How are those jeans working for you, sir?”
“Um, they’re OK… let me ask you a question, are they OK in the butt?”
“Excuse me?”
“The butt, are they OK, in the, you know, well, hey, take a look. Are they OK in the butt?”
“It looks, it looks just great.”
“Really?”
Phone rings in the background.
“Oops, I got to take this.”
“Wow it’s really raining out there, ma’am.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Don’t get too wet.”
“OK… Good advise, kid…”
“Any time.”
“How’s life, ma’am?”
“Terrible, my husband ran off with another woman.”
“Wow. That’s… that’s terrible.”
“I know. That’s why I said terrible.”
“Well, you look like you’re getting through it OK.
“It’s hard to wake up most mornings.”
“Wow, yeah, I heard that… so… out for a little shopping therapy, I see, haha.”
“Yeah, my sister and I are going away for the weekend and we’re going to look fabulous. Her husband left her for someone else six months ago.”
“Runs in the family, hey?”
“What?”
“Um, nothing. So, you dating around now?”
“Yeah, but I read this book about dating and the book says no sex with new guys for a month. It’s like, God, a whole month, really?” Lady shakes her fist at the sky and laughs so hard she cries. A beat passes between us and the tears keep coming even after the smile fades away.
“Well, um, that’s going to be $86.50.”
“You take Discover?” she says and buries her face in a hankie.
“We certainly do.”
“Hey, do you have black jeans?” a man asks me.
“Yes, we do,” I say.
“You are NOT getting black jeans,” says his wife.
“OK,” says the man.
“Give him the boot cut jeans,” the wife says.
“OK,” I say.
“I don’t like boot cut,” the man says.
“They make your butt look good,” the wife says. “And I’m not letting you get black jeans, damn it. Don’t you hate black jeans?” she asks me.
“I, I, well, I’m not fond of them, but…” I stammer.
“See, everyone hates black jeans. Now go try the boot cut jeans on.”
“Yes, honey.”
“Sir, that’s a woman’s sweater.”
And on and on…
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
Lists, Oh Sweet Lists
Things That Excited Me From November:
1. Greg Oden playing three straight games. He’s looking huge, athletic and intimidating.
2. Eggnog hitting the supermarket shelves. I drink a glass a day. I figure it’s good for my health. It tastes so good I store it in the pouches of my cheeks so I can let it trickle down my throat throughout the day. All in all, it works out pretty well until about hour three when the natural warmth of my cheeks heats up the egg portion of the eggnog a little too much and rancidness starts to occur.
3. The cold, dark weather. I’ve complained before about the darkness, but in reality, the terrible weather has been fun so far. I never got to bundle up last year, aside from when I went into the frigid air-conditioning of the movie theater, so this is a treat.
4. The election being over and Obama winning. It takes a lot of worry off my plate. I don’t know what I would’ve done if McCain had been elected… Probably just not include it on my “Things That Excited Me From November,” list.
5. My work got published on two online zines. Whoop, whoop.
Things That Depressed Me From November
1. Anything to do with the financial crisis. Seriously, will any good news come from this thing? The Dow dropped close to 500 points yesterday and is seriously flirting with doing the limbo beneath 6,000 and no one seems to have a clue as to what to do. Not that I care specifically about the health of Caterpillar or any of the other industrial companies comprising the Dow, but when people lose jobs it gets me down cause I hope to have one of those in the future…
2. The cold, dark weather. Yeah, this one goes both ways. One of my favorite things from the summer to do was ride my bike around. When it is cold and dark I don’t do that as much. Sucks.
3. My feet. They are always cold. It is the curse of tall people to have poor circulation. It has been this way my whole life…
Well, I can’t think of a full five to fill out the rest of the “Things That Depressed Me From November” list so I guess it’s been a pretty good month… Well, the month isn’t over yet, so if anything comes up, I’ll update the list.
1. Greg Oden playing three straight games. He’s looking huge, athletic and intimidating.
2. Eggnog hitting the supermarket shelves. I drink a glass a day. I figure it’s good for my health. It tastes so good I store it in the pouches of my cheeks so I can let it trickle down my throat throughout the day. All in all, it works out pretty well until about hour three when the natural warmth of my cheeks heats up the egg portion of the eggnog a little too much and rancidness starts to occur.
3. The cold, dark weather. I’ve complained before about the darkness, but in reality, the terrible weather has been fun so far. I never got to bundle up last year, aside from when I went into the frigid air-conditioning of the movie theater, so this is a treat.
4. The election being over and Obama winning. It takes a lot of worry off my plate. I don’t know what I would’ve done if McCain had been elected… Probably just not include it on my “Things That Excited Me From November,” list.
5. My work got published on two online zines. Whoop, whoop.
Things That Depressed Me From November
1. Anything to do with the financial crisis. Seriously, will any good news come from this thing? The Dow dropped close to 500 points yesterday and is seriously flirting with doing the limbo beneath 6,000 and no one seems to have a clue as to what to do. Not that I care specifically about the health of Caterpillar or any of the other industrial companies comprising the Dow, but when people lose jobs it gets me down cause I hope to have one of those in the future…
2. The cold, dark weather. Yeah, this one goes both ways. One of my favorite things from the summer to do was ride my bike around. When it is cold and dark I don’t do that as much. Sucks.
3. My feet. They are always cold. It is the curse of tall people to have poor circulation. It has been this way my whole life…
Well, I can’t think of a full five to fill out the rest of the “Things That Depressed Me From November” list so I guess it’s been a pretty good month… Well, the month isn’t over yet, so if anything comes up, I’ll update the list.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
The End of the World
Have you heard that the world is ending? Our economy is in a (dare I say it aloud?) recession. It’s true, so get your money under your mattress, learn how to tie a tight bindle, and work on your timing so you can hop trains without losing legs. The stock market is pitching like a boat lost at sea and because of our global interconnectivity most other developed countries are following suit. (You're not safe either, China, this financial scourge doesn't play favorites.)
Listen up, Oregon, it's every man for himself!
Salmon-heads on the coast, pause your incessant casting, bronco riders in the east, quit your rodeoing, tree-huggers in the south, stop your Shakespeare and everyone listen up! The sky is falling, Chicken Liken, the sky is falling.
Of course the day-to-day is going to pass without fail so don’t get too worked up. I’m going to go to sleep tonight and I can almost guarantee I’ll wake up tomorrow. Even if the stock market goes poof and is gone from existence, I’ll wake up tomorrow. Even if the financial health of our country gets so low-down sickly that Warren Buffet is panhandling for spare change at freeway off-ramps, tomorrow will come.
Then what’s going to be left when our economy is crumbled away and we are at the GDP level of, let's say, Sweden?
I guess everything from before, right? But did people do stuff when the Dow was below 7,000? Did they even have wireless internet then? I guess if tomorrow is still going to come you might as well fill it with something good. Salmon-heads, pick up your poles; bronco riders, get back on your horses; and tree-huggers, hug your trees and recite your pretty words.
That is unless you have nothing to eat and there's begging to do, cause in that case, get to your begging - there's a recession going on these days, haven't you heard? I'll see you in car 18. I'll be the one they call Flap-Jack (I always wanted that nickname).
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Poems
OK, so a little more exciting news for me. Two of my poems have been accepted to an online magazine to be published in their December issue. While it isn’t that big of a deal, just a little something something, I’m excited about it.
It’s going on a journal called Four and Twenty Poetry.
The basic idea is that all of the poems have to be four lines or less and twenty words or less. Now I’m not sure if the four and the twenty were chosen because of the obvious drug connotations (I’ve seen nothing to support that connection on the site – just good poetry) but one never can tell...
And besides, just getting my stuff out there is good, right, right?
Anyway, when it goes into “print” online, I will update it right here.
It’s going on a journal called Four and Twenty Poetry.
The basic idea is that all of the poems have to be four lines or less and twenty words or less. Now I’m not sure if the four and the twenty were chosen because of the obvious drug connotations (I’ve seen nothing to support that connection on the site – just good poetry) but one never can tell...
And besides, just getting my stuff out there is good, right, right?
Anyway, when it goes into “print” online, I will update it right here.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Coffee and Words
I decided to step out of my world the other day. I got into my car and drove to the other side of town.
I’ll branch out, I said to myself, there are plenty of coffee shops in Portland and it’ll be a shame if I don’t ever visit more than a handful. So I left. I found a coffee shop off of Williams street and I sat down with a steaming cup of joe. I pulled out my computer and got to work, but I couldn’t help but overhear people talking next to me.
They were three authors in town for the recent Wordstock festival that Portland puts up every year. They spoke nonchalantly about their new books that were coming out, and complained in an off-the-cuff way all about their struggles to find an agent who really understands their artistic vision…
They talked about all the other authors they new, about how their friends got started, about how they themselves got started, about who they sent their first manuscripts off to and it all just seemed so impossibly possible. Like, on one given day, just because of whatever reason, it would all just fall in place.
Damn I wanted their life.
At least I know it’s out there… At least I know they drink coffee at the same place as I do.
Well, at least on days I’m feeling adventurous.
Monday, November 10, 2008
The Black Death
I’m just going to say it. I hate daylight savings time. I mean, screw this, right?
Daylight savings is like a payday loan. OK, fine, you get some cool, hard cash in your hand right now and you go out and get a new toaster with a timer on it, or better yet, some new clothes that get it right and get it tight for the next big date, but then you realize that the interest rates are something the devil dreamed up on a day he was feeling grumpy and you owe double whatever it was you took out in the first place and now your toaster is broken and your clothes are out of style so you ask your neighbor if he’s going to use the Maytag box he threw out last week because you need a house, goddamn it, after the bank repossessed your old one.
Longest sentence ever.
Anyway, the first day you realize you have an “extra” hour you’re stoked. At least I was. I laid around in bed for an inordinate amount of time, used up all the hot water in my monster-length shower (sorry Youlee) and still felt ahead of schedule.
Daylight savings is like a payday loan. OK, fine, you get some cool, hard cash in your hand right now and you go out and get a new toaster with a timer on it, or better yet, some new clothes that get it right and get it tight for the next big date, but then you realize that the interest rates are something the devil dreamed up on a day he was feeling grumpy and you owe double whatever it was you took out in the first place and now your toaster is broken and your clothes are out of style so you ask your neighbor if he’s going to use the Maytag box he threw out last week because you need a house, goddamn it, after the bank repossessed your old one.
Longest sentence ever.
Anyway, the first day you realize you have an “extra” hour you’re stoked. At least I was. I laid around in bed for an inordinate amount of time, used up all the hot water in my monster-length shower (sorry Youlee) and still felt ahead of schedule.
It didn’t take long to realize my interest rate on daylight savings was ridiculous.
The Black Death started to rain down. At least, that’s the term my friend Hump has taken to calling it. The fact that it gets dark at five in the afternoon everyday seems like to big a price to pay for that measly “extra” hour.
It feels like I have an hour of light every day before the sky darkens, heavy with rain, to brood all night long. I have the vague feeling I haven’t been fully awake in days.
The Black Death started to rain down. At least, that’s the term my friend Hump has taken to calling it. The fact that it gets dark at five in the afternoon everyday seems like to big a price to pay for that measly “extra” hour.
It feels like I have an hour of light every day before the sky darkens, heavy with rain, to brood all night long. I have the vague feeling I haven’t been fully awake in days.
This whole thing does have logic behind it. Good old Ben Franklin wanted to fire cannons and ring church bells at daybreak so as to save people money on buying candles. The modern idea is not that different. If we have an hour more in the day, theoretically, we will get more stuff done and our economy will be stimulated… Also, traffic accidents go down when there is an extra hour of daylight.
Still I don’t know if it’s worth it…
Yesterday the sun went down before I was finished with lunch. It feels like the End of Days.
Still I don’t know if it’s worth it…
Yesterday the sun went down before I was finished with lunch. It feels like the End of Days.
Damn this daylight savings.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Check Me Out
Hey, check out some travel writing of mine that has just been published on the site www.pology.com! Mine is the one on the Marshall Islands!
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