(A big tree I photographed in Portland this week, while waiting for a ride on the corner of 25th & NW Pettigrove.)
The six months I spent in Portland in 2005 weren’t spent well. I realized this more fully this time around, while perusing the city this past week for my brothers wedding. Powells is absolutely the best bookstore around, the streetcars are free and the MAX train is faster than the awful San Diego Trolley, there are trees all about, great restaurants, local shops, excellent coffee, and bikes, bikes, bikes. Safe bike lanes, bike racks, bike shops, bike people, bike-minds. More than a few theatre/restaurant lounge combos, tiny pubs, and little nick nack establishments everywhere. If I hadn’t spent so much time moping back in ’05, perhaps I could have opened my eyes more to the possibilities of living in a city that is so entirely art & music focused. But alas, I love my band, and truly, only a few things keep me here in San Diego, and those lines are thin but steady. My band and my father, and a small handful of special friends are the only anchors.
Yesterday I missed my bus stop because I was lost in a visualization of a life post-San Diego. Travels in another country, without anything in my life but passion perhaps? I am going through a purge in which I want to rid myself of all unnecessary evils. From my old couch to old clothes to old photos. Why drag these things on for the sake of entertainment value? I want to minimize the STUFF I have and PRODUCE something worth a damn. I want a desk and a writing tablet. A freshly sharpened pencil and a clean bed to sleep in. What else should I really concern myself with? A dusty couch? A handful of old books I don’t glance at for years at a time? Old clothes I swear that I will one day find a pair of shoes to match? Off with it!
Yard sale on Saturday.