A very long love letter...
I had plans for my last night in Portland. They were simple plans, and they consisted of me having a farewell dinner surrounded by my closest friends followed by7 hours of sleep and a plane ride back to Maine. As I write this, however, I have only an hour before I have to leave for my flight, and I am just arriving home from another grand adventure, so you know immediately that at some point something went awry.
The past two weeks have, in all honesty, been the best of my life. I will have more stories from my Portland return trip than, perhaps, any other stretch of my life. Case in point: although this night started out as a simple dinner somehow I managed to drink at tube (and hilarity ensued), be at a strip club with a semi-famous rock star (Bobby Bare Jr.), watch a second more legitimately famous rock star run from a bar fight across town (Andrew Loomis from Dead Moon), climb a building off the side of a bridge, and say good-bye to the city I love and the countless people here that I hold dear.
I think I knew it was going to be a special night when I was rocking out to some riot grrrl in the “world and classical” section of everyday music with Rob. These things cannot be planned, they have to just happen, and when they do they are earmarks of a great night.
I also knew I was going to be in trouble when they had Immortal IPA on tap at the restaurant.
“Well, my plan was to go home after this so I could get a good nights sleep before my plane ride tomorrow. But you know, I’m not one to resist you if you twist my arm.”
“We’re going to go to the tube after this if you’re down.”
“I don’t know…”
“Are you sure?”
“Okay, I’m sold.”
And the rest, as they say, is history. As Simms and I were drinking our last beer together on top of a building by the river, he turned to me and said “This is it Ippr, say good bye to the city.” So I stoically stood there and smooched the air. I mean, what could I do? I owed her at least that much, and talking would have only made it worse.
If asked what Portland is like, i think this is what i will say: "Portland is the sort of town where you can be hopelessly, desperately in love with the lead woman of a band, and they might still only be your fourth favorite local act."
I often say that I love Portland, but this might not be one hundred percent true. It might be more accurate to say that I completely and wholeheartedly lust after Portland. Portland is that seductive rock and roll girl friend that gave you the craziest years of your life. But, although things ended amicably and you might even hook up every once in a while, you know that it isn’t the life you were meant to lead. Academics, and by extension Iowa, is a mortgage and a wife and kids. It’s comfortable and, at the end of the day, much more rewarding. Portland is excitement without any boundaries, while Iowa is excitement without recklessness.
I love the rock and roll life more than anything, but I’m too “Me” to enjoy it for long stretches of time. Ultimately it would destroy me, and for this I think my time in Portland ended exactly when it needed to. I stayed just long enough before I overstayed my welcome, broke the bank, and (most importantly) remembered why I broke up with her in the first place.
Frankly I need that lust to keep my marriage alive. It’s the same reason people still talk about the one grand high school football play throughout their 50’s. What good is the present if you can’t fantasize about the past? You fantasize about the things you wish you could relive, and in some sense it is implied that these are the things that you could relive if things were different. Portland will always be that for me. Portland, more specifically the Portland of my 20’s, will always be the life I would relive if given a chance.
I don’t remember crying the first time I left Portland, but I guess I tried not to stop and think about it the first time around. I’m sitting here, and I’m struck with just how perfect this last night actually was: how it was the perfect embodiment of everything I love about this city and the people in it (and somehow I manage to leave with three more best friends than when I got here).
If this whole Cognitive science thing doesn’t work out, I could always drop out and become a rock critic for the local alts. With my encyclopedic knowledge of the scene, I would be the toast of the town.
The past two weeks have, in all honesty, been the best of my life. I will have more stories from my Portland return trip than, perhaps, any other stretch of my life. Case in point: although this night started out as a simple dinner somehow I managed to drink at tube (and hilarity ensued), be at a strip club with a semi-famous rock star (Bobby Bare Jr.), watch a second more legitimately famous rock star run from a bar fight across town (Andrew Loomis from Dead Moon), climb a building off the side of a bridge, and say good-bye to the city I love and the countless people here that I hold dear.
I think I knew it was going to be a special night when I was rocking out to some riot grrrl in the “world and classical” section of everyday music with Rob. These things cannot be planned, they have to just happen, and when they do they are earmarks of a great night.
I also knew I was going to be in trouble when they had Immortal IPA on tap at the restaurant.
“Well, my plan was to go home after this so I could get a good nights sleep before my plane ride tomorrow. But you know, I’m not one to resist you if you twist my arm.”
“We’re going to go to the tube after this if you’re down.”
“I don’t know…”
“Are you sure?”
“Okay, I’m sold.”
And the rest, as they say, is history. As Simms and I were drinking our last beer together on top of a building by the river, he turned to me and said “This is it Ippr, say good bye to the city.” So I stoically stood there and smooched the air. I mean, what could I do? I owed her at least that much, and talking would have only made it worse.
If asked what Portland is like, i think this is what i will say: "Portland is the sort of town where you can be hopelessly, desperately in love with the lead woman of a band, and they might still only be your fourth favorite local act."
I often say that I love Portland, but this might not be one hundred percent true. It might be more accurate to say that I completely and wholeheartedly lust after Portland. Portland is that seductive rock and roll girl friend that gave you the craziest years of your life. But, although things ended amicably and you might even hook up every once in a while, you know that it isn’t the life you were meant to lead. Academics, and by extension Iowa, is a mortgage and a wife and kids. It’s comfortable and, at the end of the day, much more rewarding. Portland is excitement without any boundaries, while Iowa is excitement without recklessness.
I love the rock and roll life more than anything, but I’m too “Me” to enjoy it for long stretches of time. Ultimately it would destroy me, and for this I think my time in Portland ended exactly when it needed to. I stayed just long enough before I overstayed my welcome, broke the bank, and (most importantly) remembered why I broke up with her in the first place.
Frankly I need that lust to keep my marriage alive. It’s the same reason people still talk about the one grand high school football play throughout their 50’s. What good is the present if you can’t fantasize about the past? You fantasize about the things you wish you could relive, and in some sense it is implied that these are the things that you could relive if things were different. Portland will always be that for me. Portland, more specifically the Portland of my 20’s, will always be the life I would relive if given a chance.
I don’t remember crying the first time I left Portland, but I guess I tried not to stop and think about it the first time around. I’m sitting here, and I’m struck with just how perfect this last night actually was: how it was the perfect embodiment of everything I love about this city and the people in it (and somehow I manage to leave with three more best friends than when I got here).
If this whole Cognitive science thing doesn’t work out, I could always drop out and become a rock critic for the local alts. With my encyclopedic knowledge of the scene, I would be the toast of the town.