Tuesday, December 29, 2009

No Chickens Were Harmed in the Making of This Fire

I'm sitting at a table near the toilets in my second favorite neighborhood coffee shop. It started snowing about two hours ago and man, the weatherman really let 'er rip. Everything is covered. I was caught out on the road, dropping off girl-and-dog, picking up new wiper blades, a headlight, some air in the tires... I was considering a bike ride, but coffee sounds better now. Funny, the forecast still calls for rain.

Update:
I graduated. I did really well. I forgot to give the finger to South Carolina on my way out, though I did had some serious fantasies about it. Had it happened, it would have been the most epic middle-finger event in history.
I will not miss: Java City in the Cooper Library nor the base, shitty, inane music in it; networked printers; collections of kids with center-of-the-universe-disease; collections of adults with center-of-the-universe-disease; Governor Sanford; T-shirt shops; Zillion percent humidity; unchecked rejection of creativity; E-portfolio; old-fashioned ignorance;;;

I will miss: Nick's and everyone in it; meat-n-3 at the Esso; Jordan and all of her guns and good humor; Lesley and Emily and the genetic kindness and generosity of the Lindstedt family; Patrick; Buddy the dog and his owner Graham; Grits and Groceries; Double-Dog and Gonzo; Kenny; the broken elevators in Strode; Le troiseime étage de Daniel, même s'il n'y a rien de quiche;;;

So, I'm getting settled-ish in Portland the last little bit. After we got a blown head gasket out of the way--and a three-day delay--I had a nice fast drive across the USA with Adrienne. She laughed at my compulsive checking-of-the-coolant and I laughed at her jerky-clutch-style shifting--she drives a Subaru as if it is a Ducati.
Along the way, we learned that her garage had caught on fire and burned to totality taking with it a ton of stuff including my BMW motorcycle and her '62 Schwinn Jaguar. Shit. The fire started in the chicken coop and spread. The chickens suspiciously made it out ok, save some singed tail feathers. Can fowl be pyromaniacs?
And these bad sequences never seem to stop at two, so I'll tell those of you who know my old friend, Cog, that he's got some pretty serious liver trouble that he'll have until the end. Send some good thoughts to the old man if that's your thing.
Aside from that, it was a very nice, quiet Christmas with good food and friends.
Privately, with the help of a few wonderful people, I'm working on the good fortune side of things for this next year. Knocking on wood, standing on my head, making the sign of the cross, fresh air and positive thinking. It's a bumpy road, but whatever it takes. Whatever it takes.
Happy New Year, everybody.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Fucking ePortfolio

-Insert foul language and spitting here-