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Tuesday, September 18, 2018

A Dearth of Fizz

Coco is unimpressed
I’m not rising and effervescently shining as bright and early as usual. WHY?

Oh yeah, it’s not light out at 4AM anymore. We’re heading into a new, darker season. Also, just FYI, I may be over my jet lag but DAYum, it’s still hard to get going on dark, rainy mornings. Plus, and I'll bet you figured this one out already, I miss Ten.

Whine, snivel, mewl.
Do not be angry with the rain; it simply does not know how to fall upwards.
~ Vladimir Nabokov
We could engage a tutor, a coach. Ya know, give the rain some damn lessons. Right?
Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.
~ Roger Miller
So, this is MY fault, hmmm? What? And I should smile more too?
think that the
world should be full of cats and full of rain, that's all, just
cats and
rain, rain and cats, very nice, good
~ Charles Bukowski, Betting on the Muse: Poems and Stories

It was a rainy night. It was the myth of a rainy night.
~ Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Never dance in a puddle when there's a hole in your shoe (it's always best to take your shoes off first).
~ John D. Rhodes

The rain fell like dead bullets.
~ Scott Nicholson
Wow. That’s just about as emo as I feel this morning too. Excellent!
It's all nonsense. It's only nonsense. I'm not afraid of the rain. I am not afraid of the rain. Oh, oh, God, I wish I wasn't.
~ Ernest Hemingway
Brutha, can I get ya a cuppa joe? I just made some. And a cookie. I didn't make the cookies so they' to eat AND tasty!
It was raining in the small, mountainous country of Llamedos. It was always raining in Llamedos. Rain was the country's main export. It had rain mines.
~ Terry Pratchett, Soul Music

It has been raining here for ten years. I keep an accurate record of time and can state this with no fear of contradiction.
~ Alastair Bruce, Wall Of Days
The Valhalla forecast for the next ten days (years?) is rain, rain, rain. I like rain but C'MON!
It rained toads the day the White Council came to town.
~ Jim Butcher, Summer Knight
So yur saying “things could be worse.” K. Gotcha. At least it’s not raining toads here. Fine.
Nothing reminds us of an awakening more than rain.
~ Dejan Stojanovic
Yeah. No. Nothing puts a nap in mind more than rain.

Monday, September 17, 2018

Home and then some

Someplace over a Great Lake
Huh. I appear to be home and, today, I should be thoroughly over my jet laggyness.
Recovering from jet lag depends on the number of time zones crossed while traveling. In general, the body will adjust to the new time zone at the rate of one or two time zones per day. For example, if you crossed six time zones, the body will typically adjust to this time change in three to five days. (source)
I crossed three so *PING* today’s the magic day when I, finally, won’t feel the desperate need for a nap or three. Right? RIGHT!

Now that I'm home, I’ve started paying attention to the news again. Oh boy.

Yet another Border Patrol agent has committed mass murder. Given the vic’s are all female….emmmm, how much ya wanna bet they were also sexually assaulted?

Lava mountain
On the assault note, the Serial Harasser in Chief says he’s standing behind Brett I-did-not-attempt-to-rape-that-woman Kavanaugh. Of course he is! Look at the trail of vics he’s left behind!

Now then, theoretically moderate //snort// Republican senators Murkowski and Collins were mega quick to condemn and demand Al Franken’s resignation after a former fellow performer's accusation surfaced.

Collins called the accusation ‘credible, disgusting and appalling.

Murkowski said:
my personal lava
“We’re seeing a culture of harassment & assault being exposed on a daily basis. Whether you are in the media, politics, or anywhere else abuse of power is unacceptable & shouldn’t be tolerated at any place at any level. Sen. Franken must know that & that’s why he must step down.” (source)
Drake Park duck
Where are they on Rape-y Boy Kavenaugh? Collins is undecided. Murkowski thinks they ‘might' need to consider delaying Kavanaugh vote.  Gee…rilly? Ya think?!!!

Senator All-talk-no-actual-action Flake has said that he’s “made it clear that I’m not comfortable moving ahead with the vote on Thursday if we have not heard her side of the story or explored this further.”

A chandelier at Zeus Café
He’s also
…declined to address whether Kavanaugh should withdraw his nomination: "I'm not responding to that question at all." (source)

Of course not. Commit to actual, real decency and humanity? Goodness no – I'm a Republican!
While his friend watched, she said, Kavanaugh pinned her to a bed on her back and groped her over her clothes, grinding his body against hers and clumsily attempting to pull off her one-piece bathing suit and the clothing she wore over it. When she tried to scream, she said, he put his hand over her mouth. (source)
But, hey, to Republicans it’s all Boys will be boys and C’mon, who amongst us hasn’t tried to rape a woman? Ya know?

Midterms are November 6th – 50 short days away. Let’s vote these can't-get-it-up-unless-it's-a-force-play, rat bastard s OUT!

Sunday, September 16, 2018

I Often Dream of Trees

Just LOOK at that gorgeous, handsome as all hell, bark!
Thieving from Mister Robyn Hitchcock:
I often dream of trees when I'm alone
I lay underneath them, reaching another zone
I dream of them constantly
Standing tall into paradise or Brattleboro or Quincy
I often dream of trees when I'm awake
They reach the sky beside a frozen lake
And there in an upper branch
I wait for eternity or Brattleboro or Quincy
Drake Park in Bend, Oregon has the most fabolicious trees. Tall, tall Ponderosa Pines. Ten has a post up over at his place about one of them – a three hundred year old babe who had to, molto sadly, come down.

Me, the tree worshipper, immediately jumped to the conclusion that it was taken down for some no good, nefarious-fucking, blindingly selfish, it-ruins-my-view, bullshit reason.

Ah…no. Ten filled me in:
It’s a public park, the threat to the many outweighs the nostalgia of the few.

Those Ponderosa Pines, being a desert species, don’t have a tap-root per se, but a system of shallow spreading roots that don’t hold well in the wind. The butt six foot or so was about a third “punked out” as well, not necessarily rotted but not the sort of thing you would want to build a house with. That tree, back in the day, would have provided enough lumber to frame out one of today’s McMansions, and would’ve probably been worth in today’s dollars ten thousand.

Not a question of if but when it would blow over. It needed to come down. One of those things.
All the same, I haz a sad.

There are some stone beauties here (particularly right here in Valhalla) BUT we’re not quite as tree-rich as I’d like. I am greedy for trees!

Saturday, September 15, 2018

Portland AHT!

Meanwhile, back in Portland and the last day of Donna and Ten’s big adventure…

The day started with a bang. We went to the Roxy for brekkie. I was in love with this dark, funked up joint before I even opened the menu.
On it I found things like:
  • Soylent green omelette – We put a little bit of ourselves in every one.
(spinach/mushroom/cheese omelette)
  • The Ghost and Mrs. Chicken – Don Knotts was a cool nerd
(Chicken fried steak with biscuits and gravy)
  • Standard Breakfast  v. 2018 – Register yourself or someone else to vote for the 2018 elections, Our lives depend on it.
(two eggs, hash browns and toast)
  • Steve Buscemi Breakfast – So that’s your breakfast in the wood chipper?
(Corned beef hash, two eggs, hash browns and toast)
Jane Burton
Rick Bartow
The fabola waiter set down a full pitcher of hot coffee.YEA!!! But then…DA DA DUNNNNN… disaster struck when I attempted to fill my wee mug. The jug’s lid wasn’t snug, the place was so beautifully, atmosphere-heavy dark that I couldn’t tell how fast the jolt juice was flowing and *BOOM* I emptied a half dozen cups worth of steaming coffee ALL over meself. Even my sneakers were soaked.

Yes. OUCH!

Ten and I went back to our, thankfully, nearby hotel where I stripped and rinsed the hot brew outta my duds. Ten then brought them down the hall to the hotel dryer. Afterward, despite my extreme embarrassment levels we returned to the Roxy and it was AWESOME PLUS. Also…yes…I had Ten pour this time – obvs I can’t be trusted with carafes of hot bevs.

Post OMG-if-yur-in-Portland-you-MUST-eat-at-the-Roxy brekkie, we set out on the Portland Art Gallery Tour.

Kris Hargis
Our first stop was Gallery 903 where I found Jane Burton’s mindblowing life size figures. Also E. Tyler Burton’s (are they related?) evocative (tell me a damn story NOW!) torsos trapped in blocks.

The Froelick Gallery had paintings by Rick Bartow and Kris Hargis which ripped my head clean off – like into the next dimension.

Yeah sure there were other galleries with cool as fuck shit but there was also this funky home furnishings joint with hilarious work. Who doesn’t need formal, Warhol-ish animal portraits, hmmmm? We trolled through an antique shop which had dull as pale dirt paintings as well as wondrous landscapes. And then there was the street – not QUITE as vibrant as Montreal but really bloody close.

 I only mention it but Boston needs a LOT more street art
More Burtons – E. Tyler and two by Jane

Friday, September 14, 2018


On my second night in Oregon, sharing a bed with Ten, I had a dream about The Amazing Bob and me. We were giggling and having the bestest time. He then remembered there was something very important in our bedroom closet that he abso-needed. The closet was a Victorian wardrobe – very Lion, Witch and Wardrobe-y.

He opened the door, stepped inside and the door swung shut. The entire wardrobe, with TAB inside, was then sucked INTO THE WALL. Absorbed without a trace of ever having existed, not even dust bunnies remained

I was beyond freaked and ran to the wall. I clawed at it, looking for a way in, an opening so’s I could pull TAB back into being. In my sleep, I began screaming and then woke. Ten held me close while I came to the knowledge that I’d had a spectacularly nasty nightmare.

What’s it mean? I had this on the second night with my new squeeze – seems related, eh?

Is TAB going to disappear/cease to exist now that I’m molto happily involved with someone new? Yes, I do happen to know that TAB is dead – has been for 802 days now, in fact. But will I lose my cherished memories, his deep significance, those 30 big years of me and him, now that I’m tripping the light fantastic with someone new and awesome?

Ten doesn’t mind that I talk about TAB. I mean, it’s not nonstop but, when we tell each other stories, TAB’s bound to come up. I mean…there were 30 years packed with a ton of bliss, giggles, life and shit, ya know?
"He’s a part of you," sez my new man.
Ten knows. Ten’s wise. Ten reminds me of TAB and that’s AOK and cool.

And I’m insecure. In the day before leaving I could see/feel myself experiencing old, stupid-ass, once crippling fears/insecurities.
He doesn’t really dig me and this’ll never work out because:
  • I’m fat and he’s fit
  • I’m deaf and he’s not
  • I’m tippy as hell and he’s an agile, athletic hiker-type
  • I’m fluorescent and he’s more serious
  • I’m from Mars by way of Alpha Centauri and he’s from Saturn
  • He lives in Oregon and I live in Boston
Hey, here’s a fabtastic good idea – let’s take this one bleedin’, motherfucking step at a damn time! K? Also too, we're lovely creative types – bridges happen.

For right now, it’s fabulous, flattering as hell, inspiring and a wild wonder that Ten likes me. That we stumbled onto each other – that like called to like across the miles and weirdness of the world – is just cool as rainbow colored, talking unicorns and calorie-free, cream cheese frosted carrot cake cuppycakes at a summer picnic on Pluto. Ya know?!

That he and I were both bright enough to pay attention to how we were feeling, that we were brave and open enough (reckless mebbe?) to move, to act says to me one mondo bit (at least). Maturity/evolution happens. We’re gonna walk, not run, into this new world of ours. We’re gonna live in the moments, not put carts before horses and be here now and shit.

We’re gonna keep going.

Whoa babies, second acts happen!

Thursday, September 13, 2018

The Last Day

This is my last day here in Oregon. It’s also the final one, FOR NOW, with Ten.

We returned the rental car to the airport yesterday morning and took the MAX into Portland. We were (and by we, I mean ME), after all our adventuring, dog tired and stone weary and shit.  So then, after locating our blindingly awesome hotel, we chilled (AKA napped) and then zipped out to the cool Zeus Cafe for lunch (located just below the Crystal Ballroom where, back in the day, Ten caught more than a few Dead shows) and then a buzz through Book Heaven (AKA Powell’s).

Today we’re just gonna wander – check out art galleries and whatever else catches our fancy. Later this afternoon we’ll take the MAX back to the airport. Ten will see me off and then catch his commuter flight back to the high desert.

I’m having some fierce separation anxiety, just FYI. OF BLOODY COURSE I AM!

Ten will come to Boston this winter though. The fun WILL continue!

OK, time to hit the wonderfully weird streets of Portland.


Wednesday, September 12, 2018

Green Day

Clearly…CLEARLY, Ten thinks my look of utter, stunned amazement is dead sexy. He keeps taking me places that thoroughly knock me out. Of course, it helps that, at least while we’re gazing on such brilliant beauty, I’m pretty much speechless. Yup, that doesn’t happen too often.

Yesterday, just outside Portland AND right on the damn highway (!!!) we hit Multnomah Falls. and the U.S.Forest Service site both tell me that:
According to Native American lore, Multnomah Falls was created to win the heart of a young princess who wanted a hidden place to bathe.
“According to Native American lore.” What? ALL Native American’s lore? Y’all DO know that there ARE different nations and tribes, fer fuck's sake.

The Wasco legend of the Falls is different, more detailed and tragic. I’m gonna go with their story versus the generic Native American lore.

Back to the Falls though – it was cool and raining when we pulled in, giving the green, green moss covered, stunningly, beanstalk tall tree scene a stone primordial vibe. We walked up to Benson Bridge, recently reopened after the Eagle Creek Fire, started by a kid carelessly, stupidly setting off firecrackers.

We’ve passed through so many areas devastated by fires. That we nasty-ass humans have, as a species, so far survived the wounds, the heinous damage we’ve wrought on this poor planet just blows my fucking mind.

And sometimes the Earth sez FUCK YOU big and bold. After the Falls we drove up to the Mount St. Helens.


Tuesday, September 11, 2018

Blow Donna's Mind Tour Day Four

Yeah, I know, I know –  I was on the Slack-Jaw Tour bus but yesterday we zoomed all the way up into the realms of Utterly Blown Mind. How? Emmmmm…

Painted Hills, fossil beds, Badlands...Imma let Ten say a few words about these pics. The man knows his geologic history!

Take it away, Ten!

First: it is my long standing conviction that we cannot even begin to understand the world until we can grasp geological time. The Painted Hills (above and left) puts it all out there to see: forty-five million years of history, seven volcanic epochs, three climate changes and two ice-ages.

Palisades and vents (at right) are the youngest, hardest rock that remain when a vent has exhausted itself. Like a plug, it is the last to "erode" or shake away.

Though formally a part of erosion, erosion as we think of it – wind and water – is not the primary factor in the landscape. Out here we shake, everyday, to low intensity earthquakes in the 2.0 to 3.0 range on the Richter Scale. What has happened over millions of years is not unlike shaking out a cat box through a screen: the finest stuff slides away quickly, the larger, courser material more slowly and inconsistently, finally leaving the largest, hardest chunks behind.
Me again – dunno if you can see them in this (or other pics) but there are ripples in the rocks, the mountains. I asked Ten was ist das? and 'the hell!? He replied:
The ripples: at the end(s) of the ice age(s), there were periods of enormous flooding. It was during the end of the last ice age that the Colombia Gorge (and it is thought the St. Lawrence Seaway) was carved out as the ice dams east and northeast failed and successively spilled the contents of great lakes sized lakes through the weakest points in the geology. The ripples represent the water level of these successive floodings.
What's on the Blow Donna's Mind schedule today? We'll travel through the Columbia Gorge on our way up to Vancouver, Washington where we'll visit with my fab nephew Adam and fam. Away we go!
I can't name them off the top of my head, but three of the volcanic epochs are remarkable by their color: a pink, a pinkish-white, and the green.