Interesting Reading

Got some time on yer hands? Here’s some interesting reading that has kept me up late at night in the last bunch of days:

A hero. Bookmark this gem and visit him daily: Michael Moore.
- - - -
Diversified communites are productive and thriving.
- - - -
I smell rats. Be sure to read the list of those who support this so-called “Aim for global leadership.”
- - - -
Very heavy, very chaotic.
- - - -
Give peace a translation.
- - - -
Whoa. Tons of information. Very, very scary. Forward, factual (?), nevertheless, very comprehensive and vast. Lots of links, pro and anti concerning the state of the world.
- - - -
Anti-War designers.
- - - -
On a lighter note: This looks super funny.
- - - -
Keep yer eyes on negativeb.com, as my favorite Hebrew is updating his website with a new look. Shalom!

FAIR AND HONEST REPORTING...

"The first casualty when war comes is truth." –Hiram Johnson

"The news automatically becomes the real world for the TV user and is not a substitute for reality, but is itself an immediate reality." –Marshall McLuhan

- - - -

I’ve been trying to limit my intake of the nauseating “war” news coverage. The addictive quality of a “real time war” is a new vice. We all come into work and relay the previous night’s transmissions, in awe…blown away by the reality of what is going on over there.

I’m watching this bullshit unfold in front of me, harrowing reports from these smiling, fire-eyed anchor fucks more or less rooting for the onslaught. What has sickened me the most is the cheerful quality when reporting the news of Iraqi casualties...go team! They are people too. Right? We’ve reduced them down to these blinded, subhuman drones…

Lots of questions: If Saddam is so “bad”, why is there resistance? Who are the bad guys here? 5000 lb bombs? (What the fuck? 5000 pounds!!!) Terrorism? Al-Jazeera? Al who? What happens one he is removed? Then what? What if we can't remove him? Fuck. A mess.

I don’t feel good about any of it.

- - - -

Not too much else to report.

1. Work is busy and getting busier. That’s good. Super productive.

2. Melissa will be back in a month. That is better. Gonna make a run back to get her. 2nd annual rescue mission. She's a good trooper on the road. Melissa is my co-pilot.

3. Derek Denoyer called today with the big day of his wedding: August 23rd. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Bachelor’s party plans are in the works. I told him today, wasting up expensive cellphone minutes, “Y’know, I was thinking…I guess I just want to see you lose yer cool…y’know, get you beat up or arrested or something. One last mean bender.” Derek always kept his cool. He’s gonna lose it real bad at his pre-hitch party. I'm "standing up" for the wedding. Much pride is felt.

4. Coming up on my “one year anniversary” with CINCO. Big news. One whole year. Wow. It has been good. I like it here.

Glad the weekend is coming up.

History? Herstory? Ourstory?

Thanks to everyone for the nice comments in yesterday’s post.

Wednesday night: Basically, I laid there in awe, frozen by the unfolding events.

One part of me wishes things didn’t have to come to this.
One part of me hopes ‘we’ are doing the right thing.
One part of me hopes ‘he’ is doing the right thing.
(Bush better be doing the right thing.)
One part of me feels like the Iraqi regime needs to be ousted.
A bigger part of me feels like our regime needs to be ousted.
One part of me feels like this should have been done long ago.
One part of me wants to sell my car and ride my bike instead.
One part of me feels we are gonna get “what we’ve had coming for a long, long time.”
A giant part of me can’t fathom the uncertainty in our near future.

I’m thankful for the protesters who believe in peaceful resistance.
I’m thankful for the folks on the corner who are supporting our troops.
I’m thankful I have the choice to agree, disagree or not give a fuck.

Patriotism? Optimism? Pessimism? Capitalism? Totalitarianism?

Lots of ‘nisms out there.

I think the voices of our nation are starting to be heard, refined, loud and clear. From all sides of the conflict. Hopefully, it is a good thing–overall–for the spirit of the country.

I get excited for the next chance to vote. I plan on voting, I plan on recruiting others to do so too. I feel like the vast, disenchanted sea of voices who usually don’t care, who are often overlooked, will be heard, coming out in numbers as defining citizens with a choice. George Bush…you pampered, privileged prodigal son…your days are numbered. You won’t squeek by next time.

I’m watchin’ the news, I’m reading the websites and blogs…from all angles…everything...from slick, cinematic mainstream sources to cynical watchdogs to human weblogs inside Iraq. I just want to “know.”

- - - -

Thank you to our troops who are out there doing their jobs. I’d like to think they are upholding our values, in a world that gets smaller every day. Not just “the elitist” values of "our" regime, (…fuckin’ Cheney’s slimy, greedy regime of corporate stockholders) but, the values of common folk who get to live in a free society.

Liberation? I hope so. Hope. My hope is that Iraqis will be able to enjoy the freedom I get to enjoy.

Melissa flew back this morning. Her six days out here we good.

Highlights include:

1. Melissa locking us out of the apartment. Lots of fun. A brick remedied the predicament, as handled by one Scott Sullivan. We broke a window, unlatched it and I slithered through.

2. Treasure shopping around Portland. Melissa picked up a “Luck-O’-The-Irish” kelly green sport suit (pictured above in the affectionate “Oh-kye Deathgrip”) at a little shop in the Clinton district. Melissa has a keen eye, and believe me, there is no rest for the wicked when she gets something in her sights.

3. Wrastlin’ on the couch. (And hey, in the name of real estate. Settle down truckers.) See, Melissa has a tendency to “hog” the bed, the closet and the couch. I put up a mean fight for my space and won’t give in until my girth is comfortable and well represented.

4. Multiple battles of wits.

I already miss her. So good to have her out here. She’s gonna get her affairs in order back home, readying herself for her triumphant return in May. Much excitement. Big plans. Big contracts. Bigger promises.

Melissa Flew In On Tuesday.

The week has been a good one. Hanging out, enjoying big nights out and hearty grub. Seeing friends, watching tube, laughing and general horsin’ around together. It’s good to have her back out here. Shouldn’t have left in the first place.

We caught Sea and Cake & Califone at the Aladdin Theater on Wednesday night, caught a “real story behind the 1991 Gulf War” documentary at the Clinton Street Theater and enjoyed yet another documentary on the “mullet phenomena” also at the Clinton Street Theater. Good times.

A good routine: Work a good day at CINCO then go out with Melissa for good grub and good entertainment.

In news of Melissa’s return, she made things “permanent” with the acquisition of an Oregon driver’s license. She has plans of attending PCC (Portland Community College) this fall, and needs to get all her ducks in a row for the registration process.

This new license is the center of much talk between us. Turns out Melissa passed the test with flying colors on the first try. I, on the other hand, didn’t do as well. It took me three times to pass it. Ha-ha, laugh it up. All I can say is, that DMV had something against me. They gave me the “hard test” or something. Persecution comes in many forms.

Melissa had this to say: “You are such a dipshit.”

She’s flying back to Sioux Falls tomorrow afternoon. Some sadness is felt, but for the most part, a calm peace looms knowing she’ll be back in six weeks to shack back up for another run together.

- - - -

Jay Farrar has a new record coming out. It’s titled “Terroir Blues.” Highly anticipated by all on the DDC factory floor. It’s coming out on his new label, “Act/Resist Records.” His own label? Hmmm, interesting.

In yet another cryptic move by Farrar, one has to wonder what the hell the title means. “Terroir” means “soil” in French. “Soil blues.” Read into it what you will.

- - - -

Scott Sullivan and Natalie stopped through on their way up to Seattle. We did a little settling up on his album design. Good to see them. Good people. Scott was on his way out to the East Coast to shoot some snowboarding at a Burton contest or something.

Melissa turns 26 today. She is on a flight headed west as this update is posted. Real good. She's coming out for the week. Big plans are in the works. Stay tuned.

NOTE: Very excited to have the girl back in Portland.

The comments section is up too, so this one goes out to all the scrubs who read these questionable words: Get on there and leave some good words for Melissa. Don't even think of getting vulgar or obtuse, as we'll rectify any tomfoolery with a viper tongue.

Late, Late Sunday Night

And just as the weekend was wearing down to a non-descript, sad, soft-yet-sinewy little nub, I had to come across a link that is not only absolutely mind-blowing, but chock-full of item after item of amazing peculiarity.

Got some time to kill? "Busy" at work and need something to pass the time on the boss' dime? (I know, I know.) Get that mouse-a-clickin' right here, and take a tour through Mr. McClintock's home.

I went through his every drawer and nook...reading, wondering, collecting, bookmarking, etc. I don't know what else to say. Very good.

That goddamn link took me well past midnight, up to about 1:30 in the AM.

- - - -

Then, then, then...in yet another moment of "you oughta be sleeping" masochistic fury, I went and clicked on PJ's site, just to see if the sonofabitch had the decency to fill us in on his last 7 or 8 meals." Low-n-behold, I spent another 10 minutes of coveted beauty sleep hanging on his every word.

Hell, even Ryno made his way onto PeeJay's update and fucked me up with this little gem.

Facts are stubborn things: Every time I check into PJ's site, I get a hankering for a meal. It's either the dilectible descriptions or the seductively-saturated "record shots"; something inside me makes a little room for a couple bites.

Goodnight.

Wacky Willy's doesn't have a thing on us.

I picked up Ben Munson this afternoon for a little foray out to Wacky Willy's surplus emporium on the edge of the industrial sector of NW Portland. (Same deal as the Axman chain of retail wonders back in sweet home Minneapolis...) We scoured the joint, tracing the our signature hunting paths. We agreed to meet–with a series of coded hang signals–by the "interesting adhesive random sign numbers+letters" bins. Some chatter ensued. Many purchases had been made out of these sacred bins, by many walks of life.

I passed this time around. I made my way out, empty-handed. Ben jumped in line, patiently waiting to check out. Once he made his way outside–as I leaned on Big S–we had “post game” chat about the aforementioned odd lot of adhesive characters.

With a couple of loose-lipped threats, we were back inside, ready to go to war. Just before he left, in a moment of angled strategy, Ben offered the young lady behind the counter a juicy number for the whole mess. When he came out and parlayed the news to me, something inside me snapped and I knew–absolutely knew–we were gonna make her a deal that she couldn't pass up.

I guess she offered Ben the larger of two bins for 35 bucks. Not bad. But why settle for only one bin when we can fight for both? I looked the tattooed punker right in the eye, did a little sweet-talkin' and said, "Tell you what, how about 45 bucks for the whole damn lot!"

She squinted a bit, pondered and leaned in a little closer: "Uh, how about... 50 bucks?"

"We got a deal." I proclaimed and we were outta there.

Stay tuned, all readers of these words will have access to these treasures, that is, once Ben and I finish the delicate sorting process.

Unbelievable score. Decades of adhesive enjoyment. Small numbers. Visceral colors. Not really useful for anything. Big waste of money. Giant fun.

Still Clogged

Things still aren't right in my head. The sinuses are playing some sort of cat-n-mouse game, tricking me here and there. Things are aching, things are clogged...these "things" will dissipate and come back again and again. The runny nose has been replaced by a congested, dry ache. I’ll wake up feeling real good, hoping for the best, and like clockwork, around 2pm or so I’ll be all off-kilter and messed up.

I just want to be "well" again. It's been 12 days or so of this garbage. Enough already. It is sort of holding me hostage. I'm glad I've got my freelance demons at bay, otherwise, things would be ugly.

Saturday afternoon… Saw Rod Snell yesterday, as well as Fred Green. I ran into Fred downtown, amid a serious bout of suffering. We crossed paths in Ozone records. I brought him back across the river, as he was going to the Laurelthurst Pub to check out some long-haired backwoods band. Hmmm. Rod came up from Oregon City and we tended to some errans and enjoyed some Thai food on Hawthorne and 40th. Good stuff.

- - - -

On a bright note: Melissa will be here on Tuesday, and let me tell you, that's better than a whole lotta things. I miss the gal real bad and look forward to hanging with her this next week.

Melissercise

"I don't like feeling 'out of breath'." –Melissa, in reference to exercising.

Our Soil, Our Strength

Went and caught Calexico at the Aladdin Theater last night.

Man, so refreshing.

In Minneapolis, back in the reckless days of my mid-twenties, I basically burned myself out on “live music.” It seemed like something worth seeing was going down each night. I saw a ton of good shows. But the whole experience started to get a little old after awhile. I often found myself standing there thinking, “Man, I should just be listening to this stuff on my stereo, hanging on my couch.” Some bands just do that to me in the live setting.

I’m in it for the entertainment. I’m not into this sort of “suffering with the band” shit. Who’s worse off, the band who has to stand in front of some mangy fans or the fans who have to stand in front of some mangy band? Things just got to the point where “going out” felt a bit too predictable.

So I took a break. Nowadays, I limit my shows to experiences where I know I be entertained or fascinated or surprised or flat out blown away.

Last night took the cake.

1. The joint had theater seats. Sitting down, watching a real “show.”
2. Calexico is a band. Musicians. Multiple talents. Swagger.
3. Considered lights, good sound and no smoke in my face.

They were excellent. Horns, stand up bass, marimbas… and not in that “Widespread Panic” or “Cherry Poppin’ Daddies” "wow-we're-diverse" sort of way…the real deal. Musicians, inspired by the sultry sounds of the Southwest. It’s the sort of live show where you could take yer parents and they’d enjoy the contagious rhythm.

John Convertino plays the drums. Once again, he plays the drums. His punctuated blasts, his swagger and rolls. His elegance. His grace. Contained and confident. A relaxed professional.

Mark these words: I will roll through the dusty backroads of the great Southwest again, with Calexico on the dashboard stereo.

Out Of The Woods?

Spent the whole weekend trying to rehabilitate. I don’t know if I’m out of the woods either. I still have sinus pressure, that seems to fade away, then the runny nose comes back, I clean things out, and the irritation starts back up. Real tired of blowing the nose.

Pretty worn out. I feel sluggish and spent. My head feels cloudy and heavy. Being down for the count has allowed me to think about a million things, including: buying a house, staying in the northwest, my family, Melissa, my job, the upcoming summer, the monthly budget and of course, the “meaning of life.”

All heavy stuff. Too much thinking.

I actually look forward to getting back to work, being around the crew and being busy. Hopefully that will convince my constitution to snap out of this slump.