Current Events

I admit that I'm not exactly up to speed on current events. The reasons are thus: I'm not very well connected to media. The recurring sameness of it all - and I realize that this sounds terrible - bores me. I once counted myself among the NPR nerds of the world. I listened to Morning Edition on my drive to work and All Things Considered on my way home. I had the web page pulled up on my monitor. I found the various dispatches so interesting and the journalistic integrity so refreshing that I looked forward to seeing what was going on in the world. I considered the reporting to be balanced and unbiased - like it's supposed to be. I liked that after listening to a piece on, say, prison health care I would have to decide for myself the right thing to do, having been given all sides of the complex issue.

I'm not sure what happened. I suppose that I got caught up in the here and now, which can be a truly wonderful place and time, and found that I tired of hearing about which childish side had most recently retaliated in the middle east 'peace' process. Likewise, riding the daily Washington spin cycle just feels ridiculous. And, hey, I recognize that there's a lot that I don't know about the way the world works and so I'm hardly qualified to speak on some of these issues, but I just can't truly care about which role a given Capitol Hill actor is playing on a given day.

Take Idaho Senator Larry Craig for instance. First of all, I'm no one to judge to anyone. I've lived long enough to know that people make mistakes and I've sure as hell let people down in my own life. But that's not my point. If you're not aware of Larry's particular problems, then here's one perspective of the situation. You get a little bit different feel for it here. Regardless, his particular actions and belated ownership are not my real concern because, to me, it's just another example of an elected mercenary holding up whatever symbol will be recognized by the most people - today.

Yeah, I know that this post is mostly just grousing. It points out the problem without offering a solution and that's not really productive. And, no, there is nothing new under the sun. I just wanted to get it off my chest.

Sunrise Thursday

What the heck...I was up.

Here's the thing...

I've been working on something. It's a little bit longish. And I'm not really sure where it's going, but it feels good. I want to complete it and post it and see how it looks and reads. I want to know what people think. I suppose that in order for that to happen, people would have to know to look. But never mind that. The thing is that I've been working on it for a while now, pecking away here and there, thinking about it even when I'm not working on it, trying to give it shape and direction. I don't mean to actually compare myself to a great writer, but like Flannery O'Connor I suffer from a debilitating need to edit and re-write. It reads differently to me every time I sit down to it. I would hope that I'm working toward a better product each time I start reading it from the beginning, but I can't be sure. Maybe I'm just bending to my present frame of mind and not really achieving improvement at all. It's worrisome. I confess there's an outside chance that I'm afraid of ever actually getting it right because then I might actually have to let go of it, post it and let it stand on its own and be done, saying, "There. That's the best I could do". Because of course it never will be. That being said, it's late and I'm now tired. Also, the baristas want to close up shop. So it is that I must let this post stand on it's own because it is as good as it's ever going to be.

And...

...I'm spent.

A funny thing happened on the way to the coliseum

As previously alluded, downtown Eugene is probably as safe a place on a sunny Sunday morning as anywhere I know, but there's just no accounting for some of the random encounters in life.

I set out yesterday capturing some of the images in the previous post, which seems to me a pretty innocuous activity. I stood at the corner of Broadway and Willamette and casually photographed what I unofficially call Kesey plaza, given the bronze statue of our native son reading to his grandchildren. It is arguably the most public place in Eugene. I turned my camera east down broadway, walked about 20 yards and was caught a little off guard when a man, a little taller than me, approaced from the right. If you've spent any time in Eugene, then you know the type: 20-something, bearded, shaggy, possibly stoned but probably under the influence of something at any rate. He walked straight to me and asked, not in a kind way, if I'd taken their (apparently referring to him and his friends) picture. It didn't seem likely to me that he was an agent for this or any other country and so I wasn't really sure where this was going. I told him that I hadn't, which was absolutely true. I had taken pictures of the plaza and hadn't, frankly, noticed the man or his friends standing in the shadows of the far corner. He then asked, no more kindly, if he could see my camera in order to check. My mind quickly scanned the range of possible responses, starting with the one which would end the conversation then, there and for good. In less than a second, I decided that the only appropriate response was to reply flatly that No, no he couldn't. I then turned from him and continued taking pictures, not at all sure that the ordeal had passed. For whatever reason, he apparently decided not to press the issue. When I looked again, he had walked back over to his group of friends. The one thing I do know is that...you never know.

My Town Redux

OK. So I don't know much about photography beyond point. shoot. hope. Still, you get the idea.

Me and My Soapbox

I'm not saying that Eugene is the best place on earth or the only place for me or really anything like that. What I am saying is that I've quit fighting it. I don't know...the winters just don't seem as long as they used to be; the days not as short; the rain, somehow, not as wet. Yes, I know: Global Warming. But there's more to it than that. Like Verlon Thompson, I ain't been everywhere yet, but I've seen enough to know that, all things considered, Eugene is pretty darn liveable.

If you wanted to live a pedestrian lifestyle, you could. You like outdoorsy things? That's cool. If you want to see live theater, there are more than a half dozen venues. Art? More than twice as many galleries. Live music? More than three times as many stages and something somewhere every night of the week. Crime is low, pedaling is easy, coffee is good, parks are clean, bathrooms are free, kids are welcome, there's a university, a baseball team and...oh...the trees!

Sure, The Willamette spills its banks once in a while and the ground trembles about every two or three years; they say that the Cascades are still an active volcano range and of course we should always know what to do in the event of tsunami but - basically - we don't have any tornados. There is no hurricane season. We're not expected to fall into the Pacific. The weather fluctuates all the way from 30 degrees clear up to 100 during the seasonal cycle.

We have box stores, strip malls, food chains and the google-o-plex like everywhere else. BUT(!) You could do all of your shopping, eating and big screen viewing in local establishments if you wanted. I refuse to beat the diversity drum, but you can find a little bit of everything located between Portland, Medford, Florence and Bend.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

This is my town.

I don't want to complain...

but it appears that I'm going to anyway. I have a few favorite places around Eugene. With regard to food, the closest to my house is affectionately called the Turtle store. They serve all manner of comfort food: mac & cheese, ribs, philly cheese steak sandwiches...They're open until midnight; I know the owner and really like the bartender; their produce is good. Tonight, however...what the H? Believe me, I understand the nature of things. I have an idea of the disruptions which might occur in the restaurant business. I don't think I'm being picky, but I confess that I became impatient with the wait for my order. Again. Looking around, they didn't seem to be overly busy or understaffed. Suffice to say that at 10:00 I was ready for a chicken caesar. At 10:45 I was ready for bed. And so, for the second time in as many weeks, I amended my order 'to go'.

Et tu, Kanotey?

Yes, it's true; even I have a space of my own. And I ask myself: aren't you a little OLD for that sort of nonsense? Mmm...probably. So what. I readily admit that its existence serves absolutely no practical purpose. Moreover, I seriously doubt that it will ever be full of clever comments as posted by my clever Myspace friends, of which I have but one (yes, him). Well, not that I'm choosy about my friends, exactly, but I have ignored friend requests from fun, honest and outgoing women with web pages containing their hot pics. Regardless, I'll say this about that. It was fun. Moreover, I think it was a worthwhile process: What DO I know about myself. What WOULD I want a random browser to know about me? CAN I be candid with still just a bit of a wink and a smile? I don't know. You be the judge.

Once

I saw the movie 'Once' a couple of weeks ago. Mostly I liked it. I don't have this great ear for music or anything and I believe that is what the movie is most acclaimed for. I don't even know if it was much of a story, but it was sweet and funny and a little bit sad. I think that, ultimately, it was a lot more realistic - it turns out - than most movies involving unlikely young couples in a world of infinite possibilities. Do I recommend it? Sure. Probably, you'd like it, too.

A Simple Pleasure

I got up early, or at least early for a Saturday in Eugene. That seems to happen these days. I suppose it's possible that a small part of my mind might be on eastern daylight time.

No matter.

This is not civic pride. It's generally accepted that summers in Eugene are one of the best places on earth and this morning was near to perfection in that regard. I stepped outside and just kind of breathed it in, you know? The smell of it all. The straight. up. FRESHNESS! of the world at that hour is something to be absorbed into your bloodstream. It was sunny and bright with long but shortening shadows and cool, in my shorts and bare feet, and the garden was still moist and the world seemed to be in order so I felt compelled to take my morning cup at my favorite spot downtown while everything was still quiet and the Saturday Marketeers were just arriving to set up their tents and booths.

In my admittedly limited experience, Cafe Perugino has the best coffee in the world. You know how it feels to drink a hot, black cup of dark-roasted goodness when you haven't had one in a couple of weeks? You know that kind of tingle that comes over your body and makes you smile, if only on the inside? You know how you can actually feel the caffiene when it hits your stomach and then feel it accelerate as you inhale? Well, it's like THAT - every time. It just feels so - good! You know?

Anyway, I sat on the empty and nearly silent sidewalk at a favorite table, just a little bit cold despite my sleeves and felt the coffee coursing in my veins as I savored my bagel and my book and everything in the world. For a few moments everything was very nearly perfect.

As I Was Saying

...you have to start somewhere. It's true that I started a blog solely so that I could post comments on my friend's blog, which is quite good, by the way. Perhaps more on that later, but the point is that I had no intention of doing any actual blogging myself. Hence, the clever title, etc. Eventually, though, I thought that I might actually get around to it, you know...someday. I don't know why, but the thought of typing things about yourself that anyone in the world could read but that, more likely, no one in the world will ever read is strangely appealing. Anyway, it seems that today is the day. I'm not sure why.

I had always figured (and somewhat rehearsed) that my second post would be some elaborate introduction: The who-I-am, what-I-believe and why sort of thing. There will probably be time for that later, but I'm striking while the keys are hot and I just don't care to go into that sort of thing today. So you'll have to check back if you think that you might remotely care.

Whatever.

Last night I saw a local band that I've long heard acclaim for. Mood Area 52 played at Sam Bond's Garage. Being interested and not especially having anything better to do, I paid my $5.00, sat at the bar and drank some Ninkasi (so good, with just a hint of grapefruit) from a pint jar. The opener was frankly kind of a downer. I don't know. I don't have an especially keen ear for these kinds of things. It could be that he (and I didn't catch his name) might just be a hell of a good song writer. I couldn't tell, because I couldn't actually make out the stories behind the songs due to the monotone droning into the microphone. The guy next to me seemed somewhat of a normal sort of fellow and so I asked him if he'd ever seen Mood Area 52 before. He said that he had, that he knew the singer, that these guys weren't them and that he was actually kind of pissed off about the whole thing. Anyway, the singer managed to avoid taking his own life and after playing only one more song that at one point promised, eventually exited the stage.

Pint jar# 2. Mood Area 52 is kind of an ecclectic ensemble: More or less local talent. I believe the bass player to be French. Or at least from France. They announced that he flew in from Paris yesterday, at any rate. There were 4 or 5 other instruments and a singer who, according to my new friend, Joe, is an area teacher. I would categorize them as kind of a Pink Martini - Lite (I like the video). They were fun enough, but I don't know that I have to see them again sort of thing. Hey, again, what do I know about music? Not a hell of a lot, it's true. Actually, there's a hell of a lot that I don't know a hell of a lot about. You may as well be advised of that fact now.

I got to know Joe a little bit while we were waiting for the main event. Left to my own devices, I'm not too much for the light conversation, but Joe was the friendly sort and so it went. It did occur to me early on that Joe might be heteroflexible but that don't confront me, long as I get my rent money by next Friday. He asked what I did and so I told him. It turns out that he used to date someone in the trucking business and the name was familiar to me. Although he's 51, Joe and I both have 9 year-old sons and so we briefly engaged in that obligatory exchange, but didn't linger; seemingly agreeing that it's better to move on in life and in conversation. It didn't take long after that for Joe to disclose that he's a real tomcat. He did in fact seem to know a number of the women in the bar besides the singer.

Pint jar# 3 and slice of Greek pizza. Two 20-something women sitting at the end of the bar, next to Joe. One of them had some large-ish tattoo on her shoulders; not wings, really, but you get the idea. This is where Joe reveals to me - and this is funny - that he's 51. He tells me that he gets around but that, at his age, there are some things that he knows he just can't go for, like those two beautiful women sitting next to him. "That's maturity" he tells me. "A year ago" he confides, "I probably would have gone for it".

Sidebar: I think it's kind of funny that it's just assumed that I want to fuck every woman in the bar, too. He's sharing with me because it's kind of understood that we're members of the same fraternity. Maybe I need to change my look.

Anyway, it's more the whole conversation that's made me a little uncomfortable. I agreed that they were indeed attractive, but flatly allowed that I was neither interested nor looking to be. Which, of course, he toasted and then he and another guy who had sidled up immediately became embroiled in a conversation around northwest beers with said (young) women and began ordering them tastes of various flavors.

The band took a break and I headed for the door. I don't know. It was kind of hysterical.

Perhaps I'll figure out how to put links in my post and then you can take a few side trips if you care.

Wow. That was easy. I hope they actually point to their intended destinations.

OK. Now it's a legitimate blog. And I suppose that I've posted my way to immortality in the endless Google cache. We'll see if I'm ever motiviated to post again. No promises.

...and Publish.