July 18, 2018

July 18, north of Eugene, OR (Exit 228)

Tonight was one of the really good ones. Don't forget it. Started as a regular Wednesday, but dang... it ended up being a doozy.

July 15, 2018

Agate Alley, 10:20 p.m. (Eugene, OR)

There's a female dwarf (!) singing "When You Say Nothing At All" by Alison Krause and Union Station and she's killing it. She sounds really good. 

I'm up next. Hope I do a good job. [Later: I sang "Because The Night". I did fine—people clapped. The version they have here is in B minor; I can sing it, but it's pretty low. Last time I sang it (at Candlelight) it was in E minor.]

And I'm back y'all: writing in my little blog like a teenage girl. But whatever, if I'm going back to drinking all night and fucking anything with a pulse, I might as well document it. 

Also, I'm in Eugene because I decided I needed a vacation. It's nonsense, of course. I'm going to Oakland tomorrow. I'm just here for the night. I sorta forced myself to do it so I'd get out of Portland—hell, getting out of the house is good—and do something different. 

And if we're being perfectly honest, I'm *strongly* motivated by a desire to see [redacted] again. We texted a bit and she brought up a rendezvous. Of course I enthusiastically agreed that it would be a good idea. But then I texted her with actual, concrete plans and she never replied. Fuck. 

But whatever, I'm kinda having fun. Every inch of this town is laden with memories for me; big steaming double-helpings of them. I've been to this particular bar with EMB and ATS (obviously years apart) and loved em both at the moments we embraced here. Or causally co-existed here or whatever. I can almost see myself sulking and halfheartedly participating in the conversation with ATS and her sister in the corner booth across from where I'm sitting at this moment. Memories, man! They're insane. 


I'll summarize the last two years... Actually, I won't. Later. Maybe. 

September 20, 2016

Toilet and trash can analogies (Las Vegas, NV)

After spending a few days driving around its back roads and state highways, I've concluded that Nevada is one of our most beautiful US states. 

It's incredible. Some of the places I visited looked like the surface of Mars or some other austere planet. By day, a billion identical rocks, all doing the same thing they've been doing since before humanity existed*; at night, glimpses of reflected deer eyes and thousands of hares, some bent on suicide by car. 

The firmament, seen from the mountains—I visited tiny Austin (pop. 192), snaking around hairpin turns in the middle of the night—is lousy with stars. I could see the Milky Way. I didn't stay long because I was worried the size of the whole thing (made apparent all at once) would overwhelm me. 

But Las Vegas is a toilet. My hotel has a sharps receptacle in the men's room for diabetic paraphernalia. Coming to Nevada to visit this place is like visiting Yellowstone so you can see the trash cans. 

* What event, I wonder, would qualify as the most interesting thing to have happened in those rocks' presence? They've been there for a long, long time. Outrageous comets passing overhead? Dinosaur battles? A visit from meandering Cthulu?

September 14, 2016

Back in the Saddle (Portland, OR)

9:46 pm. Luck House karaoke. 
Table full of losers is watching their sole female sing that stupid Queen song about wanting to ride a bicycle. I fucking hate that song and I can't tell what the woman looks like because of the lights. 

I'm here in part because I want to be; but in part because there's a pair of good-looking women I was kicking it here with a few weeks ago. Not at the same time, of course—those days are gone, unfortunately. But I didn't seal the deal with either one, so here I sit. 

Went out with a sort of unpleasant young woman last night—more tedious and not to my standards physically than anything else. Not a bad woman—a girl, really, at 23—but not very exciting. Rather looked like Jonathan's old gal, Pizza. Not my type. Nothing came of it. 

It sure is a lot of rednecks in here tonight. Why is it that so many people (who think they can sing really well) sing shittily in the same way: a sort of yelping, almost a moan, sort of performance?

10:30 pm
I'd almost completely forgotten that non-chord formed by two chicks (who can't sing) chasing the same note simultaneously. I'm listening RIGHT NOW to two blondes just, like, annihilate "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaac. 

February 21, 2015

At Lucky House, pre-karaoke (Portland, OR)

Got back from Eugene a few hours ago. I was there for the log show. Family Day (Saturday, the last day of the show) was as trying as usual. Those people are fucking vermin. 

Kate got her car repossessed. Naturally, I'm now stuck walking the dogs for the evening as she scampers off to New Boyfriend's place to evade responsibility for the night. Granted, she *did* watch Big Chester all week, but still, I fucking hate walking/dealing with those beagles. 

Really I'm just mad that her and New Boyfriend insist on bullshitting/bait-and-switching me on [redacted]. Why do people make up that kind of thing? THEN AGAIN, I suppose The Lord helps those who help themselves... Still, I don't wanna walk those dogs. 

E.B. stopped calling. Guess I'm not as charming as I used to be. 

January 14, 2015

"Minimal guilt this morning" (Welches, OR)

At a resort in Welches, Oregon. They don't have a bathtub, but everything else is good. Got my drank on last night with E.F. We got loaded and then I drove us to a real bar after the hotel bar closed. Had another drink with the locals, and then as we were leaving, this random chick who worked at the hotel invited E.F. and me to [redacted] with her in her car. We did. I pretty much controlled myself. Minimal guilt this morning.

Gotta show tonight. Other band's called No Gentlemen. Why is that so familiar?

January 10, 2015

"I thought I saw a fly!" (Portland, OR)

Gem to concerned interloper at B-Side patio last night, after I smashed a bar glass on the table: "I thought I saw a *fly* on it."

Texts from J.N.S. to me after she left my house in a huff at three a.m.: 

"I hate Daniel"
[various similar stuff]
"I accidentally sent [redacted] the message about my purse and then I thought I was talking to him"

Ha ha! Guess I shouldn't work so hard to alienate people. 

Also, so hungover. I be at Biddy's right now. Got a Birds In Basket in front of me. It comes with sausage, and the call the sausage a "pub banger". Makes me think of a "club banger" like "Turn Down for What", but they're obvioudky very different animals. 

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