Next week in the promised land

Happy, belated, passover.

I know that if things look bleak, if I suffer from persecution, if I'm forced to leave this land, being chased by angry bigots with bats and empty beer bottles...

There's always next week in the promised land.

That's not a real word

These are my new shoes. While they are not plaid slip-ons, I still like them.

Oh shizzle.

Izzle.

This is a creepy painting of a woman being watched through a key hole.

Played Scrabble with Megan and Steve, did I mention that I hate Scrabble.

This is a playing card picturing two wrestlers garbing each others junk.

Non-linear Geodesics

Here I am looking cool in the big city.

In my dream; Roseburg has an array of charming breakfast places that all serve something different that I like, and on weekends we have to decide which one to go to and when we get there; there is a line and we have to wait, but it's ok because they give us good coffee and Bloody Marys.

This is an add for an all lesbian realty company. Maybe they are investment bankers. Maybe that's not the point.

The man walking on the sidewalk had these very strange bouncy stilt shoes. I was unclear as to their purpose and/or possible benefit. (I will note that I found them by searching "bouncy stilt shoes").

This was a book on how to shoot your own porn. It may have been called DIY Pornography.

Do I need to comment?

I was driving and saw the cupcake sign and had to stop.

Here is my assortment of delicious (and expensive) cupcakes.

Here are the beginnings of a geodesic dome in Mary's back yard. Who knew that the "artistery" was so into Buckminster Fuller?

Here is Mary looking less terrified by my presence.

While I don't remember what it was; there was something very strange about this funeral home/mortuary/whatever place. I think it had something to do with dead hippies.

I got strawberry chipotle ice cream. The guy told me that as summer progresses; he will continue to make the ice cream spicier and spicier. I whole heartedly approve.

Before I left; Mary and I went up to the bluffs and looked out over the train yards. Oh, how I miss urbanity.

Farewell city life. Possibly better put: farewell traffic, breakfast restaurants, slow service, gentrification, ethnicity, culture, a selection of bars where there is very little risk of the patrons wanting to hurt you, young people, fashion, public transportation,...

The list goes on.

I got a hot dog at a Chinese restaurant/hot dog place.

Driving back from Portland I had the revelation that Roseburg holds little prospect of love for a smart and charming boy with good fashion sense.

And, one day, when I leave this land of Mar-Far chicken and things that are "spendy", will I be too old to find love?

Does that make me a country boy?

Here I am, prepared for the big city.

This was my first time out of the sticks in a dogs age.

While we do have homeless people in Roseburg; it takes an urban hobo to just throw his used sign on the ground.

Mary is, apparently, happy (or terrified) to see me.

This Thai restaurant was inside an old house and had festive tableware. It was quite adorable.

However, they only had one person working the floor, so our meal took forever.

Maybe my life in the country (or shall we call it the land of meals that are delivered too quickly) has made me impatient. Which is strange; shouldn't I be annoyed at these fast paced city-slickers?

I had come up to see my good friend Lyn Goeringer. She was in town from Rhode Island doing a performance as part of a evening of women in experimental electronic music.

When I had gotten to town (city) Marie wasn't sure if she wanted to come out to the show because she thought that I was going to drag her to see some singer/song writer with a guitar.

I don't even think I know any singer/song writers...

Here is Lyn; rocking out with her instrument (the ExOSkeL).

We hung out with Lyn as we listened to the electro-___ stylings of the Electrogals.

We tried to convince Lyn to come out dancing, but she had to catch a flight at 3am.

I don't really feel smart enough, anymore, to write a compelling critique of the performances of the evening. And I also feel that as a representative of Whitey and The Man; I am in no position to critique lesbian fashion.

Think of it like the sorbet

I feel like we need a moment before I can proceed with the "story line" as it was proceeding prior to this week.

I wish I had some music to review.

Or maybe a humorous anecdote.

I wish there was a way we could just fade to black for a moment an then pick up where we left off.

Instead here is a picture of a cowboy.


Heart,
Gabe

Elephants in the room

This morning at breakfast I renounced Roseburg. The previous evening some angry man threatened to tear our heads off and shit down our neck holes. This morning there was snow on the ground, I mean WTF it's supposed to be spring. I fear that I live in a town where I will not find love and when I do leave, someday, I will be too old to find it.

Why does Roseburg hate me so?

I went out to the college to work on my lesson plan. There was snow on the ground and a class in the room I needed.

I called Megan to tell her that God hated me and that I needed something to do. She asked what I wanted to do. I said cry.

We left the dark clouds of Roseburg and headed to the coast.

I told her every gruesome detail.

It was a cathartic afternoon.

The sad seems mostly gone now.

For dinner at the Captains' Catch we got sides of coleslaw. They brought them to us as an appetizer.

We had "fish" and chowder. I thought about asking what kind of "fish", but then I forgot.

When our waitress came to clear our table; she told me that I needed to eat a few more "fish" before I could leave.