I shot this last night at Mississippi Studios in Portland:
big weekend
3 hours ago
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Year 30 Part II: USA / Goals for 31
Year 30 Part II: USA
I came back to America trying to convince myself that it was going to be another challenge, another adventure, and that the election of Barak Obama was going to make America an awesome place. Thing is, I didn't really believe any of that. I was miserable, sunk into a depression deeper than anything I had experienced since high school, and trying to force myself to be optimistic absolutely destroyed my energy and broke my brain. I was sent back to this country in pieces.
I had no place to go. My family had long since left New York City for rural upstate regions, where the snow was measured in feet, the temperatures were typically below zero, and the social scene consisted of kids doing meth at the laundarymat. My friends in NYC couldn't put me up, and my biological father, who lives in neighboring New Jersey, was unable to accomodate me during this terrifying period. I went upstate to try and collect my thoughts and spend time with my lovely mother, but couldn't deal with the climate and general lack of life.
My aunt and uncle offered me a room in their Maryland home, just outside of the DC beltway. I felt some optimism about moving to a big city again. I witnessed history as one of the millions in attendance of President Obama's inauguration. That was pretty cool. I felt the hope. I started applying for jobs in DC, and invested time in discovering the city. I went on a few dates and met some nice people. I spent 8 or 9 hours a day applying for jobs, sure that my experience in NYC and London would impress some DC folks, but after a couple of weeks and not getting a single response, I collapsed back into the darkness, even more drained than ever. I spent several days in my bedroom just watching episodes of 30 Rock and The Office - entire seasons were consumed. I had never watching so much TV in my life. I felt so utterly defeated, as if I was going to just give it all up and turn into some lifeless American, like I was going to live in the suburbs and take some generic IT job and spend all my free time in front of the TV playing video games or something - this became a horrible fear. I mean, like, I started shaking because I was so afraid that this is what I was going to become.
I had to stop it from happening.
I got in the car.
I didn't know where I was going exactly.
I headed west, because that was the only place left to discover.
My head said Austin. My heart said Portland. I think it was always gonna be Portland.
The road was maddening. Driving for 14 hours a day, I was quickly worn down by how oppressive and enormous this country is. For thousands of miles, everything looked the same. I constantly feared that my car was going to break down in the middle of some god-forsaken southern plain. It was not an enjoyable journey. I had left for the road in the midst of a severely depressive episode, and after a few days I was terrified because I had made such an irrational decision and all of a sudden I was 2,000 miles away from home.
I needed a hug pretty freaking badly. I gunned for Albuquerque to see James. It took me something like 1400 miles off course for Portland, but it was probably necessary. I felt like a zombie in the New Mexico desert, and I though I was so happy to see such an important and incredibly relevant friend, I had a hard time showing it due to the emotional and physical exhaustion that I was experiencing.
Arriving in Portland was marked with joy and confusion. I had decided to move across the country to a city that I had never even seen before, had no connections in, and offered no appealing job opportunities. All I really knew is that a bunch of bands I liked were living there, as well as a couple of my favorite filmmakers, and that it had a reputation as one of the most liberal cities in America.
It was March 5th, and within a few hours of arriving in Portland, I had found a place to stay for a month. Shortly after moving my stuff into a basement in the Mississippi district, I went to my first gig and made my first friend. Everything was looking up. I wrote about that first night here.
Now I'm living at my 4th address in 7 months, and am about to get laid off for the 2nd time over the same period. I'm happy with my love. I still have a hard time making friends on my own, but Amber's friends are fantastic. I miss my friends in the UK terribly...more than they could even realize.
I have now moved 30 times in my life.
Portland is my home now.
Goals for year 31:
Start Bottle Rocket PDX.
Go back to university for teaching.
Return to the UK for a visit, and guest DJ at Bottle Rocket.
Celebrate more Jewish holidays.
Learn to be a better and more understanding partner to my loved one.
Write one short screenplay.
Write one feature screenplay.
Become a substitute teacher.
Sell my car.
Buy a bus pass.
Cook at home more.
Read more books.
Take more walks.
Host a few movie nights.
Get a radio show.
Go to more gigs.
Go back to the east coast to visit my family.
Blog more.
Get new glasses.
Buy clothes that fit me.
x
I came back to America trying to convince myself that it was going to be another challenge, another adventure, and that the election of Barak Obama was going to make America an awesome place. Thing is, I didn't really believe any of that. I was miserable, sunk into a depression deeper than anything I had experienced since high school, and trying to force myself to be optimistic absolutely destroyed my energy and broke my brain. I was sent back to this country in pieces.
I had no place to go. My family had long since left New York City for rural upstate regions, where the snow was measured in feet, the temperatures were typically below zero, and the social scene consisted of kids doing meth at the laundarymat. My friends in NYC couldn't put me up, and my biological father, who lives in neighboring New Jersey, was unable to accomodate me during this terrifying period. I went upstate to try and collect my thoughts and spend time with my lovely mother, but couldn't deal with the climate and general lack of life.
My aunt and uncle offered me a room in their Maryland home, just outside of the DC beltway. I felt some optimism about moving to a big city again. I witnessed history as one of the millions in attendance of President Obama's inauguration. That was pretty cool. I felt the hope. I started applying for jobs in DC, and invested time in discovering the city. I went on a few dates and met some nice people. I spent 8 or 9 hours a day applying for jobs, sure that my experience in NYC and London would impress some DC folks, but after a couple of weeks and not getting a single response, I collapsed back into the darkness, even more drained than ever. I spent several days in my bedroom just watching episodes of 30 Rock and The Office - entire seasons were consumed. I had never watching so much TV in my life. I felt so utterly defeated, as if I was going to just give it all up and turn into some lifeless American, like I was going to live in the suburbs and take some generic IT job and spend all my free time in front of the TV playing video games or something - this became a horrible fear. I mean, like, I started shaking because I was so afraid that this is what I was going to become.
I had to stop it from happening.
I got in the car.
I didn't know where I was going exactly.
I headed west, because that was the only place left to discover.
My head said Austin. My heart said Portland. I think it was always gonna be Portland.
The road was maddening. Driving for 14 hours a day, I was quickly worn down by how oppressive and enormous this country is. For thousands of miles, everything looked the same. I constantly feared that my car was going to break down in the middle of some god-forsaken southern plain. It was not an enjoyable journey. I had left for the road in the midst of a severely depressive episode, and after a few days I was terrified because I had made such an irrational decision and all of a sudden I was 2,000 miles away from home.
I needed a hug pretty freaking badly. I gunned for Albuquerque to see James. It took me something like 1400 miles off course for Portland, but it was probably necessary. I felt like a zombie in the New Mexico desert, and I though I was so happy to see such an important and incredibly relevant friend, I had a hard time showing it due to the emotional and physical exhaustion that I was experiencing.
Arriving in Portland was marked with joy and confusion. I had decided to move across the country to a city that I had never even seen before, had no connections in, and offered no appealing job opportunities. All I really knew is that a bunch of bands I liked were living there, as well as a couple of my favorite filmmakers, and that it had a reputation as one of the most liberal cities in America.
It was March 5th, and within a few hours of arriving in Portland, I had found a place to stay for a month. Shortly after moving my stuff into a basement in the Mississippi district, I went to my first gig and made my first friend. Everything was looking up. I wrote about that first night here.
Now I'm living at my 4th address in 7 months, and am about to get laid off for the 2nd time over the same period. I'm happy with my love. I still have a hard time making friends on my own, but Amber's friends are fantastic. I miss my friends in the UK terribly...more than they could even realize.
I have now moved 30 times in my life.
Portland is my home now.
Goals for year 31:
Start Bottle Rocket PDX.
Go back to university for teaching.
Return to the UK for a visit, and guest DJ at Bottle Rocket.
Celebrate more Jewish holidays.
Learn to be a better and more understanding partner to my loved one.
Write one short screenplay.
Write one feature screenplay.
Become a substitute teacher.
Sell my car.
Buy a bus pass.
Cook at home more.
Read more books.
Take more walks.
Host a few movie nights.
Get a radio show.
Go to more gigs.
Go back to the east coast to visit my family.
Blog more.
Get new glasses.
Buy clothes that fit me.
x
Year 30 Part I: UK
Allow me to reflect for an evening.
Tomorrow is my birthday.
30 was a big year. Transitional indeed.
Last October I was living in London, and for my birthday I flew up to Glasgow to see my dear Friends. We had dinner at Cafe Andaluz in Hillhead, and at that table were Duncan, Susan, Chris, Laura, James, Patrick, and a few others. But those six people changed my life over the course of time. They were, and still are, the coolest people in the world to me. It was the beginning of a very strange year.
The day after my birthday, Chris and I went off to Sweden for a week or so. You can read about that here. Shortly after that trip was Bottle Rocket October, which was when the universe hinted something was up. While BR October was incredible and possibly the most euphoric night I've ever had, it was marked by utter shock by the news that James was getting deported. He worked at a Church, so I thought he would be safe from this fate, but no no no, the government was onto him, and he had to go back to the states. The laws started getting tougher. James was the last American friend I had. Erin had voluntarily split a while ago, and even Stacey had left. Like me, James had no intention of leaving. I wrote about James here.
November was intense. The election of Barak Obama had me very excited, and for a minute I even thought that it would be cool to be back in the states. We had a post-election party at my Brixton house, which was fucking insane, I drank too much raspberry vodka and had a very difficult time speaking to my friend Alex who was trying to discuss film with me. I only remember how difficult it was to maintain eye contact because it looked like his head was moving in circles around the room. Then there was Bottle Rocket November, which was a doozy. I remember getting so caught up in the songs, and started singing, screaming even, along to some of the songs that I played for the USA - "Remember Today" by the Thermals, "I Believe in Miracles" by the Ramones, and particularly "Mr. November" by The National, during which probably scared a few people with my shouting along. I remember that night so distinctly, how, because the CD players weren't working properly, Chris and I had to alternate songs all night and how it created a unique tension that I think the whole room felt, and how it lifted us all to heaven once Nina Simone started singing "Feeling Good". I looked out on the floor at that point and saw love bursting all over the room, and I felt so happy with my life, so good about what I was doing, being so very truly at the core of a permeating and empowering love.
At the end of November, I took a personal trip to Lisbon on my own, which I wrote about here, here, and especially here. There are pictures too. Upon returning to the UK, during what should have been a routine customs stop, I was informed that I needed to return to the US soon or be "forcefully removed" from the UK. I didn't write about this at the time because I thought that I could fight it and beat it without making much of a drama about the whole ordeal. I went to the BBC and asked for visa help, but they deemed me too insignificant an employee to waste any money or lawyers on. I gathered all of the information that the immigration people wanted, and after a few frantic days of phone calls and trying to keep myself together, I was told that I was unable to renew my visa (the International Graduates Visa), because under new immigration policies, that particular visa had been discontinued and the only way to stay in the UK was to either make twice my salary or marry a British citizen. I was now into December, with an expiration date of Jan 10th. I revealed the sad news in a post on December 4th. On December 5th I went to How Does it Feel to be Loved in Brixton and danced to The Smiths.
Bottle Rocket December was my last time DJing. It was my goodbye to the city that I loved with all my heart. It was a celebration. Several nice ladies offered to marry me, but I politely declined as I knew it wasn't a sacrifice that they would make while sober. I wrote about it here. I wonder if it was the best night of my life. I was so so sad...my setlist was terribly strange, a mix of Christmas songs and deeply personal songs. When I played "Get Up" by Sleater-Kinney, it was the first time that I felt like I was going to eventually live in Portland. I closed my set with "Sleep the Clock Around", which was the song that played like a loop in my head during my very first visit to Glasgow. I put the song on, walked away from the mixing board and hit the dancefloor, dancing with my friend Laura, who held me as I tried unsuccessfully to bite back the tears.
I still had things to do - ending my job at the BBC, visiting Amsterdam with Lacey over the New Year holiday, and getting on that goddamned airplane. But when I left Glasgow the day after Bottle Rocket, that was when the darkness came. That commute home was so difficult - I had to keep myself together whilst on trains and planes, and when I got back to Brixton I remember just running up the stairs, shutting my door, and wailing into my pillow for hours.
Year 30 Part II: USA will be posted soon.
Tomorrow is my birthday.
30 was a big year. Transitional indeed.
Last October I was living in London, and for my birthday I flew up to Glasgow to see my dear Friends. We had dinner at Cafe Andaluz in Hillhead, and at that table were Duncan, Susan, Chris, Laura, James, Patrick, and a few others. But those six people changed my life over the course of time. They were, and still are, the coolest people in the world to me. It was the beginning of a very strange year.
The day after my birthday, Chris and I went off to Sweden for a week or so. You can read about that here. Shortly after that trip was Bottle Rocket October, which was when the universe hinted something was up. While BR October was incredible and possibly the most euphoric night I've ever had, it was marked by utter shock by the news that James was getting deported. He worked at a Church, so I thought he would be safe from this fate, but no no no, the government was onto him, and he had to go back to the states. The laws started getting tougher. James was the last American friend I had. Erin had voluntarily split a while ago, and even Stacey had left. Like me, James had no intention of leaving. I wrote about James here.
November was intense. The election of Barak Obama had me very excited, and for a minute I even thought that it would be cool to be back in the states. We had a post-election party at my Brixton house, which was fucking insane, I drank too much raspberry vodka and had a very difficult time speaking to my friend Alex who was trying to discuss film with me. I only remember how difficult it was to maintain eye contact because it looked like his head was moving in circles around the room. Then there was Bottle Rocket November, which was a doozy. I remember getting so caught up in the songs, and started singing, screaming even, along to some of the songs that I played for the USA - "Remember Today" by the Thermals, "I Believe in Miracles" by the Ramones, and particularly "Mr. November" by The National, during which probably scared a few people with my shouting along. I remember that night so distinctly, how, because the CD players weren't working properly, Chris and I had to alternate songs all night and how it created a unique tension that I think the whole room felt, and how it lifted us all to heaven once Nina Simone started singing "Feeling Good". I looked out on the floor at that point and saw love bursting all over the room, and I felt so happy with my life, so good about what I was doing, being so very truly at the core of a permeating and empowering love.
At the end of November, I took a personal trip to Lisbon on my own, which I wrote about here, here, and especially here. There are pictures too. Upon returning to the UK, during what should have been a routine customs stop, I was informed that I needed to return to the US soon or be "forcefully removed" from the UK. I didn't write about this at the time because I thought that I could fight it and beat it without making much of a drama about the whole ordeal. I went to the BBC and asked for visa help, but they deemed me too insignificant an employee to waste any money or lawyers on. I gathered all of the information that the immigration people wanted, and after a few frantic days of phone calls and trying to keep myself together, I was told that I was unable to renew my visa (the International Graduates Visa), because under new immigration policies, that particular visa had been discontinued and the only way to stay in the UK was to either make twice my salary or marry a British citizen. I was now into December, with an expiration date of Jan 10th. I revealed the sad news in a post on December 4th. On December 5th I went to How Does it Feel to be Loved in Brixton and danced to The Smiths.
Bottle Rocket December was my last time DJing. It was my goodbye to the city that I loved with all my heart. It was a celebration. Several nice ladies offered to marry me, but I politely declined as I knew it wasn't a sacrifice that they would make while sober. I wrote about it here. I wonder if it was the best night of my life. I was so so sad...my setlist was terribly strange, a mix of Christmas songs and deeply personal songs. When I played "Get Up" by Sleater-Kinney, it was the first time that I felt like I was going to eventually live in Portland. I closed my set with "Sleep the Clock Around", which was the song that played like a loop in my head during my very first visit to Glasgow. I put the song on, walked away from the mixing board and hit the dancefloor, dancing with my friend Laura, who held me as I tried unsuccessfully to bite back the tears.
I still had things to do - ending my job at the BBC, visiting Amsterdam with Lacey over the New Year holiday, and getting on that goddamned airplane. But when I left Glasgow the day after Bottle Rocket, that was when the darkness came. That commute home was so difficult - I had to keep myself together whilst on trains and planes, and when I got back to Brixton I remember just running up the stairs, shutting my door, and wailing into my pillow for hours.
Year 30 Part II: USA will be posted soon.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
2,000 miles of west coast stories
Over Labor Day weekend we went down to the Bay Area - stayed with some friends in Oakland. Our temporary residence was a home atop a series of storefronts in the Asian district nearby Lake Merritt. It's a unique home known as "The Happiness Hotel" to some or simply "The China House" to others. Though it was unlike any living space I had ever seen, it wouldn't be out of place on the European Hostel circuit. Through the open door we were greeted by smiles and an adorable wee Ewok-looking doggie named Devo. The vibrant house has two kitchens, several living rooms, and around 11 bedrooms, all occupied by various creative beings, with an age range from about 20-50. The place had a colorful but dark energy; a dwelling of calm people surrounded by walls shouting art from all corners. The hub of the Happiness was the outside roof space that could be accessed from the two separate ends of the L-shaped home. Since Oakland is said to have the best climate in the USA, the outside area, bursting with flora and old house wares, naturally serves as the heart of the home. It was out here where we watched Blazing Saddles being projected onto a wall. Though everyone was fairly knackered from whatever challenges came before them, I was in awe of the place, and hope to return.
Oakland is a strange city - being just a 30-minute subway ride from San Francisco has given the city an inferiority complex over time, and it is apparent that much of the city has decayed without much care. It's one of those cities that are clearly due for gentrification, as young progressives out of college make it their cheap home base whilst trying to break into a career in a more promising place such as Berkeley or SF. It's not quite the hipster haven that Brooklyn has become over the past decade, though it will be in due time.
I did manage to get across the Bay - on Saturday night, Amber and I took the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) subway into the SoMa area in search of indie karaoke. Actually, I was hoping to get us to a club night called Leisure, which boasts both indie-pop dancing AND karaoke, which would be ideal for Amber and myself, since I'm not much for karaoke and dearly miss my dancing nights. SF had a London-type quality to the air - dense and chilling; with frosty clouds hovering around the top floors of monochrome structures. Because we only had about 3 hours before the last BART left for Oakland, we couldn't wander around the iconic bits of the city - so I never saw the waterfront, the Golden Gate, Haight, or any of the famous hippie stuff. We did manage to accidentally stumble into the Mission district during a search for a loo, which we finally found inside possibly the nicest Denny's I've ever seen. After satisfying that particular urge, we ended up on Folsom Street, where the clubs lay dormant until whenever they deem appropriate. Doormen and bouncers hung about and exchanged pleasantries with the happy wondering souls on the street. And that was quite common - happiness - seemed to permeate through the cracks of this city. Everyone was smiling. Amber drew my attention to this as I was too involved with navigating the unfamiliar streets, but once I looked around, I saw the smiles. It wasn't creepy or anything, no, it was just nice. Everything was nice. People were happy to be in San Francisco that night. I wonder if it's always the case. Since Leisure wasn’t starting until 10:30 and we had to be on the train at 11 or so, we decided to head to Annie’s Social Club, which had some sort of metal show going on, but had a wee red karaoke room in the back for a small group of singers, all of whom were friendly and accepting to Amber & I. My sweet lady belted out a few tunes before we did a little B-52s duo of Private Idaho, something I really enjoy doing because I get so sing and dance to the B-52s with my loved one.
So that was my San Francisco experience. I’ll be back someday to see the city in the daylight.
Seeing my mother for the first time in 8 months was nice too. She was in Monterey with her partner to attend his daughter’s wedding, which I’m sure was lovely because MONTEREY IS ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PLACES IN AMERICA. Monterey Bay is protected by some cool law that makes it illegal for boats or dirty things to be in it. I sat out on the rocks in the water and watched herons and other awesome birds hanging out on bits of coral while Amber and my mom got to chatting. It was quite an exceptional trip for mom, as she had never been away from her daughter before, nor had she ever traveled so far from home. It was the best trip of her life, and I had never seen her so happy.
Outside of Berkeley was Pixar studios. I became aware of this by a friend in the car as we drove by en route to food. I was tempted but didn’t stop for a look. We ate at a café just a few blocks away, and it was one of the coolest cafes ever – The Rudy Can’t Fail Café. Yes, yes, YES, it was a Clash-themed joint. Barbie-type dolls lined the wall. I had the Jimmy Shake.
We went to a movie night last night and watched Coraline. It’s still creepy and smart.
Some other things have happened recently. There’s the Seattle trip.
Miles is a friend who lives around the corner from us. He likes the Pet Shop Boys. Quite a lot, I reckon, since he bought a pair of tix to see them in Seattle, which is a 3-hour drive away.
The following is a dramatization. Names have been changed to protect me from misquoting, which I most likely am but don’t really mean to.
INTERIOR – DAY
PHONE RINGS
JOSHUA
Hi Megan
MEGAN
Um…Miles has this table, but we have to drive him to Seattle.
JOSHUA
Uh huh….
MEGAN
This table is perfect….OH MY GOD…it’s red and vintage and perfect….oh yeah, so, Miles has tickets to see the Pet Shop Boys in Seattle.
JOSHUA
OK
MEGAN
He’ll pay for gas and stuff. So you wanna go? We have to leave within the hour or so.
JOSHUA
Sure! I’ve never been to Seattle before, let’s do it.
Cut to later on…
CAR – NIGHT
MEGAN
Will there be peeing soon?
JOSHUA sees an upcoming exit for Sleater-Kinney Ave. and gets excited
JOSHUA
YES! We can pee at Sleater-Kinney!
And that’s the story of how I finally saw the street that gave the name to my favorite rock band. It’s in Lacey, Washington, just outside of Olympia.
So we went to Seattle, but like my San Francisco trip, it was brief and dark, yet enjoyable and leaving me with a desire to return for a proper visit with the city. While Miles went to the concert, Amber and I met her old friend Matt, who I chatted with me about chicken coops, writing and children. The trip back included a stop at Denny’s in Olympia, and I felt like I was 21 and in college again, since that was the sort of thing I used to do with Jeff back in the olden days.
That was Seattle. And now we have this incredible table which I’m writing on. We’re both in love with it. It’s red and has matching chairs.
Oh, so we live together now, Amber and I. I think I should have mentioned that someplace else for this to make sense, but I suppose I’m in a non-linear place and that’s ok.
Amber wants to have a DJ battle with me right now. How cool is that?!
Our home is an apartment in the Buckman neighborhood, between Belmont and Hawthorne in the 20s. Laurelhurst Park is only 1 mile away, and the bus stop is just 2 blocks away. The
‘hood is bursting with flora and nice people. I love being able to walk everywhere. I’m intent on selling my car and getting a bus pass and a bike.
We celebrated our first holiday together in our home; Rosh Hashanah was this past weekend. We rocked a sweet challah and Amber busted out some blessings. Then we started to watch Fanny and Alexander (the 3-hour version), which Amber had never seen before. We made it halfway before having nap attacks, so we’ll resume later. It’s a terrific holiday film; the last time I had seen it was on Christmas of last year, when I was alone. Jeff had recently sent a text suggesting that it may be one of the 5 greatest films of all time, a sentiment to which I am complicit.
There’s a plan in place, just no cash. It’ll be ok though.
It’s weird not being a film critic or a DJ or something like that. Those were nice identities to have, though I’ve been doing that sort of thing on and off since the end of 1997, so I’m confident that it’ll come around again. I really wanna give people something to be excited about. Now that I’m settled into an apartment, that’s got a better shot at happening. It’s still a challenge to find time to myself, but I’m working on that.
For now though, everything is nice.
Oakland is a strange city - being just a 30-minute subway ride from San Francisco has given the city an inferiority complex over time, and it is apparent that much of the city has decayed without much care. It's one of those cities that are clearly due for gentrification, as young progressives out of college make it their cheap home base whilst trying to break into a career in a more promising place such as Berkeley or SF. It's not quite the hipster haven that Brooklyn has become over the past decade, though it will be in due time.
I did manage to get across the Bay - on Saturday night, Amber and I took the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) subway into the SoMa area in search of indie karaoke. Actually, I was hoping to get us to a club night called Leisure, which boasts both indie-pop dancing AND karaoke, which would be ideal for Amber and myself, since I'm not much for karaoke and dearly miss my dancing nights. SF had a London-type quality to the air - dense and chilling; with frosty clouds hovering around the top floors of monochrome structures. Because we only had about 3 hours before the last BART left for Oakland, we couldn't wander around the iconic bits of the city - so I never saw the waterfront, the Golden Gate, Haight, or any of the famous hippie stuff. We did manage to accidentally stumble into the Mission district during a search for a loo, which we finally found inside possibly the nicest Denny's I've ever seen. After satisfying that particular urge, we ended up on Folsom Street, where the clubs lay dormant until whenever they deem appropriate. Doormen and bouncers hung about and exchanged pleasantries with the happy wondering souls on the street. And that was quite common - happiness - seemed to permeate through the cracks of this city. Everyone was smiling. Amber drew my attention to this as I was too involved with navigating the unfamiliar streets, but once I looked around, I saw the smiles. It wasn't creepy or anything, no, it was just nice. Everything was nice. People were happy to be in San Francisco that night. I wonder if it's always the case. Since Leisure wasn’t starting until 10:30 and we had to be on the train at 11 or so, we decided to head to Annie’s Social Club, which had some sort of metal show going on, but had a wee red karaoke room in the back for a small group of singers, all of whom were friendly and accepting to Amber & I. My sweet lady belted out a few tunes before we did a little B-52s duo of Private Idaho, something I really enjoy doing because I get so sing and dance to the B-52s with my loved one.
So that was my San Francisco experience. I’ll be back someday to see the city in the daylight.
Seeing my mother for the first time in 8 months was nice too. She was in Monterey with her partner to attend his daughter’s wedding, which I’m sure was lovely because MONTEREY IS ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PLACES IN AMERICA. Monterey Bay is protected by some cool law that makes it illegal for boats or dirty things to be in it. I sat out on the rocks in the water and watched herons and other awesome birds hanging out on bits of coral while Amber and my mom got to chatting. It was quite an exceptional trip for mom, as she had never been away from her daughter before, nor had she ever traveled so far from home. It was the best trip of her life, and I had never seen her so happy.
Outside of Berkeley was Pixar studios. I became aware of this by a friend in the car as we drove by en route to food. I was tempted but didn’t stop for a look. We ate at a café just a few blocks away, and it was one of the coolest cafes ever – The Rudy Can’t Fail Café. Yes, yes, YES, it was a Clash-themed joint. Barbie-type dolls lined the wall. I had the Jimmy Shake.
We went to a movie night last night and watched Coraline. It’s still creepy and smart.
Some other things have happened recently. There’s the Seattle trip.
Miles is a friend who lives around the corner from us. He likes the Pet Shop Boys. Quite a lot, I reckon, since he bought a pair of tix to see them in Seattle, which is a 3-hour drive away.
The following is a dramatization. Names have been changed to protect me from misquoting, which I most likely am but don’t really mean to.
INTERIOR – DAY
PHONE RINGS
JOSHUA
Hi Megan
MEGAN
Um…Miles has this table, but we have to drive him to Seattle.
JOSHUA
Uh huh….
MEGAN
This table is perfect….OH MY GOD…it’s red and vintage and perfect….oh yeah, so, Miles has tickets to see the Pet Shop Boys in Seattle.
JOSHUA
OK
MEGAN
He’ll pay for gas and stuff. So you wanna go? We have to leave within the hour or so.
JOSHUA
Sure! I’ve never been to Seattle before, let’s do it.
Cut to later on…
CAR – NIGHT
MEGAN
Will there be peeing soon?
JOSHUA sees an upcoming exit for Sleater-Kinney Ave. and gets excited
JOSHUA
YES! We can pee at Sleater-Kinney!
And that’s the story of how I finally saw the street that gave the name to my favorite rock band. It’s in Lacey, Washington, just outside of Olympia.
So we went to Seattle, but like my San Francisco trip, it was brief and dark, yet enjoyable and leaving me with a desire to return for a proper visit with the city. While Miles went to the concert, Amber and I met her old friend Matt, who I chatted with me about chicken coops, writing and children. The trip back included a stop at Denny’s in Olympia, and I felt like I was 21 and in college again, since that was the sort of thing I used to do with Jeff back in the olden days.
That was Seattle. And now we have this incredible table which I’m writing on. We’re both in love with it. It’s red and has matching chairs.
Oh, so we live together now, Amber and I. I think I should have mentioned that someplace else for this to make sense, but I suppose I’m in a non-linear place and that’s ok.
Amber wants to have a DJ battle with me right now. How cool is that?!
Our home is an apartment in the Buckman neighborhood, between Belmont and Hawthorne in the 20s. Laurelhurst Park is only 1 mile away, and the bus stop is just 2 blocks away. The
‘hood is bursting with flora and nice people. I love being able to walk everywhere. I’m intent on selling my car and getting a bus pass and a bike.
We celebrated our first holiday together in our home; Rosh Hashanah was this past weekend. We rocked a sweet challah and Amber busted out some blessings. Then we started to watch Fanny and Alexander (the 3-hour version), which Amber had never seen before. We made it halfway before having nap attacks, so we’ll resume later. It’s a terrific holiday film; the last time I had seen it was on Christmas of last year, when I was alone. Jeff had recently sent a text suggesting that it may be one of the 5 greatest films of all time, a sentiment to which I am complicit.
There’s a plan in place, just no cash. It’ll be ok though.
It’s weird not being a film critic or a DJ or something like that. Those were nice identities to have, though I’ve been doing that sort of thing on and off since the end of 1997, so I’m confident that it’ll come around again. I really wanna give people something to be excited about. Now that I’m settled into an apartment, that’s got a better shot at happening. It’s still a challenge to find time to myself, but I’m working on that.
For now though, everything is nice.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
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