Are & Are (Arrgh! & Arrgh!)

Rant and Rave. Rest and Recreation. Rittenhouse and Reidiculousness.

Nail polish remover and a blow dryer. The practical things I miss about not having a woman in the house. Don’t get me wrong, I miss everything greatly but those two everyday items are invaluable to a plucky, dirty finger nailed, fiddler of nifty and handy things.

Is there something wrong with me and my sense of timing, physics and ability to recognize octagons? If an intersection has a stop sign for one street but not for the other and you’re driving down the latter, you do not have to come to a complete stop since YOU DO NOT have a stop sign on your street. Between the legendary passivity of Portland drivers and their inability to negotiate a 2 or 4 way stop correctly, I’m surprised if I make it home without frothing at the mouth. Oh wait…

A shot of whiskey at 10 am is likely not the best the way to start the day. But it certainly isn’t the worst.

I love my city. (Despite its drivers.) I LOVE PORTLAND. It’s a modern-day utopia that glows with fresh ideas and is a model for every other city in the country in terms of art, music, infrastructure and social services.

The W-word is verboten in social media unless it’s positive or promotional.

There is a terrarium in my house that will soon house frogs. Dart poison frogs! I don’t care what anybody says.

Pop has a bad case of the gout. One of my best pals has a bad case of being hit by a car. I’m recovering steadily from an insanely bad breakup. We all got some trauma or drama, we all have some sideways business putting us out of sorts but if we count all the beautiful people and wonderful things that decorate this world and define our lives then everything else just becomes part of the composition. It’s all a part of who we are, distinguishing our personalities and defining our character.

Ice Cube is the man. Some of his writing is just ridiculous.

Finally, I’m somehow just recently learning about the beauty and logistics of stencil and street art. Guerrilla stickers and wheat paste. Social commentary through vandalism? That’s a thing. Been a thing. Will always be a thing. It’s called (art). See below.

Open to the World, Blind to Your Surroundings


4 Way Hell

Drive to the store. Jog through the neighborhood. Sit and wait for the bus. Get into the elevator. Get out of the bathtub. Cross the street.

Parachute from airplanes. Or tall bridges. Race cars in circles bumper to bumper. Climb mountains that have no business being traversed. Walk tightropes, swing trapeze, ride motorcycles to the edge of inertia’s limit. Dare every devil you’ve ever had just to see who will win.

Then cross the street while at work and get hit by a car.

Then go to work one day after 20 years and get hit by a car.

Then walk like you’ve done your entire life and get hit by a car.

There is no rationality in the world because random tragedy occurs and throws the everyday into chaos and pain. Just as there is no reasoning with how instant joy and the luck of fortune befalls us unexpectedly.

Peace only occurs when one accepts the world as it is: an uncontrollable and savage beast seething with violence, beauty, strength, sorrow, laughter and love.

People’s Republic of Platonica

Is Platonicville a place? Because I know this beautifully grey area where there is no messing around from the neck down and the sunsets are often witnessed from a river gorge or a cascade mountainside. If there’s a city council on which I could run, it would be in Platonictown. I’ve heard their trees are as green as giant crayons and their ice cream looks like diamonds while tasting like pure gold. Or is it pure god?

The Isle of Platonic has no weird complications from unspoken expectations, there is freedom of affection without pressure to perform, no need to lay claim or to please the other party for needless validation or acceptance through pleasure and there’s no obligation of explanation or exclusivity.

It’s a special place where every other quality of a relationship grows more prevalent and relevant, like intellect, perception, beliefs, values, ambitions, histories and ideas. Character and personality push to the forefront of conversation and the mundane pursuit for the endgame of sex is weirdly relegated to the forgotten areas and dilapidated neighborhoods of Platonicburg. Remaining unimportant, redundant, basic.

This is Platonic City. A place of beautiful ambiguity and endless possibility where I will find solace until both confidence and desire rises again and takes over my body like a reckless teenager drunk on ambition or a blind alien who just jumped from a crashing, flaming, punk rock spaceship.

Strangely, finding this place will be just as much fun as staying there for awhile.

Grin > Chagrin

From seeing them together on the street to sharing great company with new girls, from bringing cheer to a dark hospital to painting on a smile while making drinks…

Every face I peel over this skull is determined to win the moment, every persona I deliver to every different room either fuels my desire to distract which feeds my spirit or drains a little bit of my blood and soul away. Every time.

The smile you see means one of two things: either it’s genuine in its foolishness and happiness or it’s a cloak and a dagger masking my eye roll and exasperation.

I’ve heard that a fresh eye roll is a delicious type of sushi. Or is it a pastry? I can never remember.

Narcissistic Blog Post

How much gin does it take to bury the past? How much whiskey does it take to drown the present? How much day drinking will it take to change the future and how much longer can this go on?

Lots. And not long.

The decisions we lightly make sometimes have dire consequence while the decisions we’ve been contemplating our entire lives sometimes change very little around us.

We must be convicted in ourselves and bear no responsibility upon anyone else for our happiness. We must continue to enjoy those who make us smile and inspire us to be great while being true to ourselves.

Initially, this was a test of will and discipline, a perpetual balance of rage and sorrow, an internal war between my wild spirit and my sense and reason that tore my insides up as if a molten screw were slowly boring into my chest.

Rode that black bike beyond reckless. Half suicidal and pushing each moment like a big red button connected to a nuclear bomb. So I had to get rid of it or I would have become crinkled skin and broken bones like the ashes from the past year and a half.

Now that I’ve been reminded of the beauty that is in this world I’ve been voracious in finding its explanations. Searching and devouring, tentative but wanting to be wanton in swallowing everything that isn’t bolted down. Learning and absorbing gal pals and dude friends, everyone that brings smiles, wisdom and inspiration to this silly man will earn dividends of his love and loyalty.

Cannot not love again. Cannot not trust again.
Must love the women who love me.
Must trust the friends who know me.

The true love of a good woman and the confidence of a great friend is absolutely worth the heavy hell of heartbreak and betrayal.

I forgive but cannot forget. I love but cannot care. I had what I could not keep and wish for what I still do not know.