(no subject)
Italicized statements imply addendums done for the sake of clarity or other things
"Let's go to the ice cream store. I want a vanilla ice cream."
-child in park by Dinah's apartment
Screams on top of screams
Accept your circumstances
Tim Allen is vomiting easily digestible musings on life and love down my throat.
We all end up with station wagons ha-ha you son of a bitch
text mildly smeared
Congenial people in machine-made suits a block away from screaming hobos
water makes it harder to write
Remember this!
Portland is intriguing in the sense that you can very quickly go from interacting with crackheads to drowning in a sea of well-off white people.
(Case in point)
"I promised I wouldn't marry until I married money."
-random douche near burnside and 4th. The first sentence here is a bit redundant, but I felt it necessary to say more clearly and less SMEAREDLY HAHAHAHA. I guess.
I'm in a gay bar in some part of downtown Portland (Old Town. The name of the bar was Fox and Hounds. It was a dive.) What am I doing? Listening to Destiny's Child.
Bob Dylan's Chronicles has a lot of pages of people jerking off all over Bob Dylan's Chronicles prior to Bob Dylan's Chronicles. Silly!
I realize upon reading some notes Dinah wrote in said book the scribbling out a word is tantamount to underlining them(grammatical error, not interesting) it and putting little --->arrows<--- all around.
The scribbled out parts are the most interesting.
"I have a cup of good spirits." Chanticleer?
"I will partake of it with you."
-I-Ching
Horrible gay techno on top of horrible gay techno.
"Keep your drink just give me the money"
What the fuck is this?
Quote from song heard in the bar Boxxes. Boxxes is full of men dancing in briefs live and a videoscreen with the same projected onto it. It is horrible. But I hear they have 5 vodka drinks for 5 bucks on Tuesdays. Nice. My confusion/dismay at being there explains the next few lines.
This is fucking overwhelming. I'm still up 4 dollars on the night, (A fellow at Fox and Hounds gave me 10 bucks and told me to have fun. Oh) so gay barhopping has been okay! Also, the guy in red briefs is painfully hot (You're a pervert! But I guess a guy wearing only briefs invites such things, to an extent). Oh Lord. Why is the music (it's really fucking loud!) to the point of making conversation nearly impossible?
not that I even tried to conversate
ENTERTAINMENT! What?
Really though, what the fuck is happening? Furthermore, who goes to a gay bar to bookworm? I guess this place is decently dead, though absolutely overwhelming even in the abscence of patrons.
at this point Boxxes closed, and I traveled to Red Cap Garage, conveniently situated next door
Fuck. One buck down. Fuck bars. Fuck. Rod Stewart produced some decently fuckable offspring. Crazy.
LOTS O' FUCK
Where does my desired mate lie, exactly?
I put a cig cherry out with this pen and the proceeded to place it in my mouth absentmindedly. The pitfalls of oral fixation are numerous! Also, I apparently look bored. Communicated to me by fetching young man before I sat down to write. Hell, I probably look outright creepy.
I'm not at all having Deja Vu (where do the accents go?). This is a unique experience. No music.
"Is it last call here?" Yes.
I ended up grinding my crotch against some girl's ass and then got invited to some fellow's suite in Beaverton. Vigorously. God I allowed that debacle to go on far too long. Once he started mindlessly rambling on about our astrological connection "I'm speaking to the aquarius in HERE (jabs my chest with finger)! Come out Aquarius! Stay with me tonight!" and saying PLEASE repeatedly I should have told him to fuck off and gone on my way. Alas, I'm a fucking pushover.
That was creepy as all hell
A man pushing a shopping cart and wearing a vest of bubble wrap walks into a bar and he says, "Cunts fer sale."
I spied a man fitting this description outside The Roxy. He did not enter. He might have said something about cunts.
It is nine a.m. and I still have not slept. Where does a homeless boy go to conk out for a few hours? I'm down to about eleven dollars, but I got a belly full of fries and gravy to remember.
It is now eight p.m. and I have slept about an hour (on a park bench near Lloyd Center. Too many people around to get comfortable.) between then and now. The mission on Burnside (Portland Rescue Mission) was a bust. That ham was gross! I sit in The Roxy again, drinking coffee. Where to go now?
Everything is going to work out. I'm decently sure now. I like Portland (a lot).
But I stiill have not slept, and I'm guessing I've walked at least ten miles in the last two days (PUUUUSSY). I am so fucking tired. It's wicked cold though, so I need blanket/shelter before I can rest. Jesus
Hopefully the good parts of tonight continue and the bad decied to fuck off. Roxy again, coffee again
"You leave your effacacious tortoise, and look at me till your lower jaw hangs down."
-I-Ching
I feel like I may collapse.
I was visibly shaking this entire time. I stayed at The Roxy from around 2am to 7am. My coffee was free. Sweet!
(1 pm)Still haven't really slept. I passed out for a minute or two a few times, but I've really been awake for far too long. However, it's really fucking warm now and I'll get a blanket tonight (ended up getting a sleeping bag from Manny which I lost about 3 days later. Shit.). Also, what the fuck is a Memorandum of Understanding?
I went to a place that I thought was a cousin of Labor Ready but it turned out to be some service to help you find a job, which I'm decently capable of independently. The contract made you sign several things which would release information to parties/companies which had signed said memorandum. Fuck that.
I have now slept. All is decently prosperous. I may get a job at Subway, but I would really rather work anywhere else. We'll see what happens.
I slept on the futon at Manny's for a long, long time. I had been awake for about three days at that point, I believe (I need to note date/time more if I'm going to properly journal). I almost started work at Subway, but backed out because I loathe that place.
I will end the transcription here as my time on the computer is running out AND I'm insofar not really digging all of this crap. I need to become a better journalist/writer in general.
"Let's go to the ice cream store. I want a vanilla ice cream."
-child in park by Dinah's apartment
Screams on top of screams
Accept your circumstances
Tim Allen is vomiting easily digestible musings on life and love down my throat.
We all end up with station wagons ha-ha you son of a bitch
text mildly smeared
Congenial people in machine-made suits a block away from screaming hobos
water makes it harder to write
Remember this!
Portland is intriguing in the sense that you can very quickly go from interacting with crackheads to drowning in a sea of well-off white people.
(Case in point)
"I promised I wouldn't marry until I married money."
-random douche near burnside and 4th. The first sentence here is a bit redundant, but I felt it necessary to say more clearly and less SMEAREDLY HAHAHAHA. I guess.
I'm in a gay bar in some part of downtown Portland (Old Town. The name of the bar was Fox and Hounds. It was a dive.) What am I doing? Listening to Destiny's Child.
Bob Dylan's Chronicles has a lot of pages of people jerking off all over Bob Dylan's Chronicles prior to Bob Dylan's Chronicles. Silly!
I realize upon reading some notes Dinah wrote in said book the scribbling out a word is tantamount to underlining them(grammatical error, not interesting) it and putting little --->arrows<--- all around.
The scribbled out parts are the most interesting.
"I have a cup of good spirits." Chanticleer?
"I will partake of it with you."
-I-Ching
Horrible gay techno on top of horrible gay techno.
"Keep your drink just give me the money"
What the fuck is this?
Quote from song heard in the bar Boxxes. Boxxes is full of men dancing in briefs live and a videoscreen with the same projected onto it. It is horrible. But I hear they have 5 vodka drinks for 5 bucks on Tuesdays. Nice. My confusion/dismay at being there explains the next few lines.
This is fucking overwhelming. I'm still up 4 dollars on the night, (A fellow at Fox and Hounds gave me 10 bucks and told me to have fun. Oh) so gay barhopping has been okay! Also, the guy in red briefs is painfully hot (You're a pervert! But I guess a guy wearing only briefs invites such things, to an extent). Oh Lord. Why is the music (it's really fucking loud!) to the point of making conversation nearly impossible?
not that I even tried to conversate
ENTERTAINMENT! What?
Really though, what the fuck is happening? Furthermore, who goes to a gay bar to bookworm? I guess this place is decently dead, though absolutely overwhelming even in the abscence of patrons.
at this point Boxxes closed, and I traveled to Red Cap Garage, conveniently situated next door
Fuck. One buck down. Fuck bars. Fuck. Rod Stewart produced some decently fuckable offspring. Crazy.
LOTS O' FUCK
Where does my desired mate lie, exactly?
I put a cig cherry out with this pen and the proceeded to place it in my mouth absentmindedly. The pitfalls of oral fixation are numerous! Also, I apparently look bored. Communicated to me by fetching young man before I sat down to write. Hell, I probably look outright creepy.
I'm not at all having Deja Vu (where do the accents go?). This is a unique experience. No music.
"Is it last call here?" Yes.
I ended up grinding my crotch against some girl's ass and then got invited to some fellow's suite in Beaverton. Vigorously. God I allowed that debacle to go on far too long. Once he started mindlessly rambling on about our astrological connection "I'm speaking to the aquarius in HERE (jabs my chest with finger)! Come out Aquarius! Stay with me tonight!" and saying PLEASE repeatedly I should have told him to fuck off and gone on my way. Alas, I'm a fucking pushover.
That was creepy as all hell
A man pushing a shopping cart and wearing a vest of bubble wrap walks into a bar and he says, "Cunts fer sale."
I spied a man fitting this description outside The Roxy. He did not enter. He might have said something about cunts.
It is nine a.m. and I still have not slept. Where does a homeless boy go to conk out for a few hours? I'm down to about eleven dollars, but I got a belly full of fries and gravy to remember.
It is now eight p.m. and I have slept about an hour (on a park bench near Lloyd Center. Too many people around to get comfortable.) between then and now. The mission on Burnside (Portland Rescue Mission) was a bust. That ham was gross! I sit in The Roxy again, drinking coffee. Where to go now?
Everything is going to work out. I'm decently sure now. I like Portland (a lot).
But I stiill have not slept, and I'm guessing I've walked at least ten miles in the last two days (PUUUUSSY). I am so fucking tired. It's wicked cold though, so I need blanket/shelter before I can rest. Jesus
Hopefully the good parts of tonight continue and the bad decied to fuck off. Roxy again, coffee again
"You leave your effacacious tortoise, and look at me till your lower jaw hangs down."
-I-Ching
I feel like I may collapse.
I was visibly shaking this entire time. I stayed at The Roxy from around 2am to 7am. My coffee was free. Sweet!
(1 pm)Still haven't really slept. I passed out for a minute or two a few times, but I've really been awake for far too long. However, it's really fucking warm now and I'll get a blanket tonight (ended up getting a sleeping bag from Manny which I lost about 3 days later. Shit.). Also, what the fuck is a Memorandum of Understanding?
I went to a place that I thought was a cousin of Labor Ready but it turned out to be some service to help you find a job, which I'm decently capable of independently. The contract made you sign several things which would release information to parties/companies which had signed said memorandum. Fuck that.
I have now slept. All is decently prosperous. I may get a job at Subway, but I would really rather work anywhere else. We'll see what happens.
I slept on the futon at Manny's for a long, long time. I had been awake for about three days at that point, I believe (I need to note date/time more if I'm going to properly journal). I almost started work at Subway, but backed out because I loathe that place.
I will end the transcription here as my time on the computer is running out AND I'm insofar not really digging all of this crap. I need to become a better journalist/writer in general.