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March 06, 2003 Yah it rains... but the beer is good. Portland is a weird city.No really, it truly is a bizarre place to call “homeâ€. The people in “Portland town†are, for lack of a better word, strange. They either present themselves so courteous as to be problematic or difficult, or so rude they are quite simply, assholes, and or bitches... as the case may be. (I tend to find these terms gender specific- obviously- when screaming at drivers whose level of intelligence is far surpassed by a bucket of vomitus or a GLAD trash bag filled with crusty toe nail clippings. Seeing as how no one in this god forsaken town seems capable of operating their turn signal, let alone such a complicated piece of machinery as an automatic car, or hell forbid, be cognizant enough to actually stop when that little, round light in the big black “thingy†hanging above the road turns... red!) (Okay... now that was a rant.) I’ve been in Portland for about seven years. Admittedly, in retrospect, it was a good seven years. Wrote some short stories, a number of comic book stories, and a few screenplays. Met some nice people along the way. Good friends. Good happenings. Blissful times. Met the woman of my dreams and fell in love. She was with me when I got, what I assumed, was the call of my life from a Literary manager down in L.A. I was in a band; little rock and roll trio. But I quit that band. (To be fair all three of us quit, round about the same time.) I’ve been productive. Some months I’ve even been prolific. I’ve been happy and I’ve been sad. However, I find myself not wanting to be here any longer. It could be that I’ve grown apart from this city... its ragged street life, belligerent ghetto-wannabe’s, and liberally soaked hipster doofus’. It could be that I’m getting old and crotchety and set in my untimely ways. It could be that what drove me out of small town America, is the very same thing, which is somehow inexorably, inexplicably calling me back. I don’t really know. But maybe... just maybe, it’s the fact that Portland has seen fit, due to increasing budget cuts, to allow a very large number of felon’s, convicted drug dealers, and diagnosed schizophrenic’s back on the street. Maybe it’s the fact that in those seven years I’ve never been able to pump my own gas. Not once! Maybe it’s because Portland is #1 in the nation, or is it #2? Honestly, I can’t recall. Suffice it to say, Portland’s unemployment is horrendous. Oregonians, or specifically Portlander’s, have decimated their school system. Moreover, their courts are a travesty of what might loosely be construed as justice. Things are bad everywhere... granted. But this is ridiculous! Maybe it is more personal. Like the fact that the last few times Mel and I have gone running- keep in mind that we are simply trying to better ourselves and our bodies- we’ve been openly mocked by fat, lazy passersby. Maybe it’s because I work a job where the concept of a “touch-tone†phone, let alone a “touch-screenâ€, is completely and utterly beyond the grasp of the majority of my customers. I mean come on! I’ve had to stop referring to the “Start†button on copiers because it’s too complicated. People just do not get it. Period. I now call the start button... “THE-BIG-GREEN-BUTTONâ€. Think about it. We’re supposed to be the most powerful nation in the world. However, when I have to define the difference between “Full Service†and “Self Service†this countries in a heap’a trouble. Seriously, animals have more sense than some of the people I’ve seen at work. Animals, or at least some mammals, can form lines. My customers simply cannot. I have to teach... literally teach, grown, and what appear to be, mature adults how to operate a “Roll Cutterâ€. As far as I’m concerned we may as well hand over the keys to good ole G.W. and head for them freakin’ hills. (Pronounced: Jee-dub’yah!) I’ve always done my own thing. Marched, as they say, to a different drummer. Granted it’s a decidedly tribal and feral drummer, but a drummer nonetheless. Society has never been a part of me. And I, if there’s anything I can possibly do about it, will never be a part of society. Some of you may think... what a loser! Go live in a cabin in the mountains somewhere! And some of you may be... right. Is there such a place where people are judged by their actions, not their attitude? Could a town, somewhere out their in the ether, be more prone to wisdom, sincerity, and effort, rather than swaggering, insecure, petty machismo? Is it possible, in this day... in this skewed age, that there is a location where people mind their own damn business, and furthermore, think of other people besides their own damn selfish selves? Maybe. Maybe not. There’s always the cabin in the mountains. [Add Comment] 0 Comments |
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