string and pebbles
I've been keeping a paper travel journal in a note-book called Happy Cooking, a gift from Alexis. I may write out some of it when I get back, mostly the parts I think are interesting, if you want to read the whole thing you can ask and I shall lend.
The city here is very similar and slightly different, I haven't really connected to it yet, which I suppose is to be expected, and I miss the glittering magic of Vancouver. At the same time I like the realness of the people here; not a single plastic doll in sight, male or female, and a relaxed, if slightly jaded feel. An older sibling to Vancouver maybe, a little more world weary, a little older, but still optomistic and even happy.
Incidentally the availability of organic/vegan/vegetarian foods is better here (Portland) than in Vancouver.
I regret missing another deleted entry from bustanewt, but other than that have not missed the onlineness very much. I do so like being able to explore on my own. We're staying with the lovely wealhtheow who is amazingly accepting in regards to the invasion of her home and hostile takeover of the bed. I fear secret retaliation, but as of yet have seen no signs of a plan.
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This Belongs To You
At twenty-four you commit suicide, but this bores you. What you remember, what makes you ache for hours, what melts you through your eyelids: your father on a bridge, his feet bound by rope leading to two cinder blocks. I need your help, he said. I can't do it. I love you. I need you to help me. I need you to push these. He convinced you. You pushed the blocks, pushing hard, but nothing. You couldn't even drown your own father. He encouraged you, you kept pushing. You pushed. Fourteen years later you stop.
-David Meiklejohn Plots
The city here is very similar and slightly different, I haven't really connected to it yet, which I suppose is to be expected, and I miss the glittering magic of Vancouver. At the same time I like the realness of the people here; not a single plastic doll in sight, male or female, and a relaxed, if slightly jaded feel. An older sibling to Vancouver maybe, a little more world weary, a little older, but still optomistic and even happy.
Incidentally the availability of organic/vegan/vegetarian foods is better here (Portland) than in Vancouver.
I regret missing another deleted entry from bustanewt, but other than that have not missed the onlineness very much. I do so like being able to explore on my own. We're staying with the lovely wealhtheow who is amazingly accepting in regards to the invasion of her home and hostile takeover of the bed. I fear secret retaliation, but as of yet have seen no signs of a plan.
------
This Belongs To You
At twenty-four you commit suicide, but this bores you. What you remember, what makes you ache for hours, what melts you through your eyelids: your father on a bridge, his feet bound by rope leading to two cinder blocks. I need your help, he said. I can't do it. I love you. I need you to help me. I need you to push these. He convinced you. You pushed the blocks, pushing hard, but nothing. You couldn't even drown your own father. He encouraged you, you kept pushing. You pushed. Fourteen years later you stop.
-David Meiklejohn Plots