STAY THE FIGHT! STRENGTH, EFFORT, AND DISCIPLINE. THESE ARE THE WATCH WORDS OF A WARRIOR -- Kevin Michael Vance
Title - Kevin Michael Vance - writer/musician/purveyor of raw materials
STAY THE FIGHT! STRENGTH, EFFORT, AND DISCIPLINE. THESE ARE THE WATCH WORDS OF A WARRIOR -- Kevin Michael Vance
STAY THE FIGHT! STRENGTH, EFFORT, AND DISCIPLINE. THESE ARE THE WATCH WORDS OF A WARRIOR -- Kevin Michael Vance

www.kevacho.com
©2002-2019
Kevin Michael Vance
Writer - Portland, Oregon


When creating this spot for my web page I was trying to think of how I might best not come off as the biggest buffoon on the forehead of this great, big, planet. Then I realized something... I am human. For me this bespeaks volumes. It means that I am fallible, that I am not perfect. I have made mistakes, am making mistakes even as I write this, and will, inevitably, make mistakes in the future. When I wax romantically about myself and my role in this cosmic-shit tub we all dubiously call life I like to think of myself as the warrior- strong, loyal, full of discipline and honor. In reality, there are parts of me that follow those codes, but more to the point, I am a worker, and very proud of that. I finish what I start. I relish the journey. And I live... as well as any white heterosexual male could hope to live in this world of skewed ideals and twisted attitudes.

Suffice it to say, here within these "random thoughts" I will contradict myself, I will be wrong in some points and right in others, and I will make mistakes. However, as always, I hope in a small way that you, the reader, might garner a modicum of enjoyment.

Hell! I know I do.


November 26, 2019
The City of Portland, Oregon.

Anyone who has lived in Portland, OR for more than ten years has witnessed its steady inevitable decline into what could only be described as "third-world" territory.  All one has to do is look around and wonder... what the hell happened?  There are tenement cities everywhere: camping tents on every sidewalk, filth littering the streets, the insane, drug-addicted, and drunken humanity uncared for and unwanted walking the boulevards and back alleys like filthy, urine reeking zombies.  I have never made any strong claims of love concerning my sodden city.  It is, in fact, just a city, but it has been good to me, in its own twisted way.  However, for the past couple of decades or so it has been changing, irrevocably and horribly.  What once was a city with a unique feel and flavor all its own, is now just another California transplant, riddled with uninspiring architecture, uninspired citizens, and a lackluster social scene dominated by out-of-staters and miscreants who would rather change the neighborhood to suit them than shut up and acclimate.  This is nothing new.  It is a problem infecting most major cities in the country.  But its insidious viciousness is no less felt by your humble, if not opinionated, narrator. 



However, I learned something the other day about the city in which I try to live with honor and decency that made me want to puke.  So, not only do we have the worst drivers in the nation; according to Quote Wizard, which looked at four factors: speeding tickets, DUI's, traffic crashes, and other traffic violations.  It also turns out that it's legal to poop on Portland city streets. 



Fucking disgusting!



Portland.  Now, not only do your drivers suck, but you will also be considered, by anyone and everyone, to be the most foul-smelling and disgusting city in the country.



Hope all'a you who think this is okay are proud.  Good on ya'.  Now Portland's a health hazard.



 




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November 18, 2019
The other night...

... I went out with a very lovely young lady who nearly fell off her bar stool when I told her I didn't own a cell phone.




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November 14, 2019
And yet again...

...I am treated like a leper, nay more than that, a pariah: outcast and alone, adrift in a sea of my own making.  Why is that?  Well I’ll tell ya’, it’s because I eschew the pernicious influence of modern contrivances and modern conveniences in the simple, yet somehow rebellious and controversial act, of NOT owning a cell phone.



What the fuck is wrong with people?



Just because I DO NOT own a cell phone doesn't mean I'm inhuman, abnormal, amoral, and abhorrent.  Just because I DO NOT own a cell phone does not mean I have been shunned by society and my family and friends.  Just because I DO NOT own a cell phone doesn't mean I have no social graces, no regards towards manner, etiquette, and protocol.  Just because I DO NOT own a cell phone doesn't mean I'm stupid; on the contrary, I think it supports intelligence to do without.



And finally (this might be the strangest thing of all) just because I DO NOT own a cell phone doesn't mean there's no way in this great big world to get in touch with me, or talk to me.



This whole thing is starting to sicken me.  Let me leave you with a quote from Giles, Buffy the Vampire Slayer's "Watcher" from the aforementioned show, circa somewhere between 1996 and 1997.  The following is he describing his reaction towards computers.  I'm beginning to think it was prophetic, as far as your humble narrator's concerned.



Smell is the most powerful trigger to the memory there is. A certain flower, or a-a whiff of smoke can bring up experiences long forgotten. Books smell musty and-and-and rich. The knowledge gained from a computer is a . . . it, uh, it has no-no texture, no-no context. It’s-it’s there and then it’s gone. If it’s to last, then-then the getting of knowledge should be, uh, tangible. It should be, um, smelly.



 




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July 10, 2019
Maybe...

Maybe it's the nostalgia I feel watching "Stranger Things- 3".  Maybe it's the fact that everyone I speak with makes me feel like a pariah, like a leper, like some reeking wild man that has come down from the mountains after years and years living in total isolation, because I simply eschew the pernicious convenience of owning a cell phone.  Maybe it's the fact that I'm nearing the half a century mark and feeling it... feeling my age.  Whatever the reason, I find myself yearning, more and more, for the 1980's: simpler times, dare I say it?... better times.



Maybe I should fall in line, and "get with the program."



Fuck that.




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