it's
11:45 -- i find that blogs move funny backwards, especially when created in the present.
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at every turn on this day, i have had inspiration to think and to create. words are the only tool available for this place and time, so i shall attempt to recreate some of the ideas that have run through my mind today. i wish i was able to articulate all of the things that have happened, but i cannot.
so, instead, let's start with the most recent, most obscure piece of info -- a strange article found at
11:01 pm, monday october 18th, 2004, which surely demonstrates there is no lack of material to critique in this world:
who's watching who? (cnn.com) [dead]
now that we're done with that, i'm moving backward. yes, this post will move backwards in time.
let's go back to
10:47:

i just dropped off a guy named "mike" at the lloyd center max station. it's in northeast portland. the business owners in northeast portland like to call this area "downtown". it's across the river from the real downtown, however, and so i refuse to grant the title. in any case, mike was a nice guy. as interesting as my day started, i was never expecting to meet a guy like mike today. but nonetheless, there we were, two strangers wasting time on a monday night.
now, i had just come from a show (yes, another show) at the
alladin, and frankly, i was trying to get away from there and home as quickly as possible. earlier in the day, much earlier (probably
1:07 pm), a friend and coworker called my desk. i was expecting a work-related and non-exciting question. instead i hear, "ryan, what are you doing tonight?". i reply, "nothing, unless you're calling to talk me into something fun." of course; i'd set myself up. "i have an extra ticket to see the old 97's."
"who is that?", i said.
anyway, so i went to see these guys. my friend showed up with a cute girl, and of course, wouldn't let me pay her back for the ticket. and, again, of course, the bartender recognized me (if you pay any attention to this blog whatsoever, you'll note i've been hitting the alladin up for shows quite a bit recently) and called me out as a lush. so be it. anyway, i ended up buying the first couple rounds for my friend... after all, she did buy the ticket.
so these were the guys:

man, these pretty boys sure did suck!
yes. suck!
really, i'm sorry friend. i love you and all, platonically speaking, but this show sucked!
i'd go with you to another show in a heartbeat. i'd never leave you in the forest if a man-eating bear was after us. i'd dance at your wedding, really. but this show was bad.
now, granted... most of the ladies present seemed to be enjoying themselves... quite a bit. and i guess, if you're into staring at a pretty boy on stage, who's playing open chords on his telecaster at 240 beats per minute, swaying his hips like elvis's 432nd impressionist, batting at his long hair, and wearing pants tight enough to sterilize for life, then by all means, enjoy the show.
i'm sure if you're thinking about it at all, you're thinking this about me:
"he is just jealous".
well... this is the first negative post on this blog (by the way, i hate the word "blog", and i always have). and this is my first bad show at the alladin. and this is a dramatically different ending to my day than i expected.
but... am i jealous? well... maybe a little bit. who wouldn't be jealous of a man who can look out and see three hundred and twenty seven women soaking wet only 23 minutes after picking up the guitar? i tried it once and i only saw two...
however, this does not mean the band did not suck. i could've written that material at age 15. but i knew then that it was destined to never leave my shoe-box full of four-track tapes in the basement. these guys either didn't care about self-respect, or they were just too caught up in the soaking wet crowd to care.
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anyway, i digress, and extremely... let's go back to
8:08 pm.
i was waiting outside the alladin. my mood from
6:30 - 7:57 pm had been quite excellent. i had just watched a funny seinfeld episode about jerry's accountant. they thought he was blowing jerry's money on blow. in reality, he was allergic to jerry's sweater that he had dug out of his closet. anyway, my mind was in a good state, but full of thoughts. i had just watched the nightly news on nbc with tom brokaw, and then most of the local portland news on nbc (the latter is completely yellow journalism, by the way, in case you were unsure). on the back of an old library card from a dewey-decimal card catalogue, i had jotted down three ideas for blog postings:
why colorado is importantwhy i can't be a republicanthe great divide: indy vs big mediai fully intend to complete those postings, along with one titled
"religion, god's golden cage". but for now, back again to
8:08. i was staring at the train around clinton and 12th. my friends, with my ticket, were in their car on the other side of the train. it couldn't have been going any slower. my mood started to change. i was getting a bit peeved. not at them, but just at life. it was wet and cold, and the people streaming into the venue seemed cold and transparent. the rest of my night at the alladin, save for a few patches of great conversation with my friend, and fun interaction with the bartender who always seems to be there to remember me, was an exercise in trying to leave gracefully...
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so... forward to
10:30 pm. i'm walking home, and rather quickly. i see a shady looking man up ahead on the sidewalk; clinging to the side of milwaukee ave fairly close to the bear paw pub (which is getting even closer to home).
he stops me. "have any jumpers?". i look at him, not comprehending. "do you have any jumpers?". i finally manage to blurt out, "jumper cables?". "yes," he says, "i'll give you a bump for a jump".
wow.
startled. unsettled. confused.
was he gay? was he hitting on me? did he just have good drugs and nothing better to do? did he have bad intentions?
all that went through my mind rather quickly. he mumbled some things, and said some other things clearly -- but i wasn't listening to his words as much as trying to judge his character.
did he need help, or was this a scam? at this point in my life, i'd seen plenty of both.
my intuition told me it was all right. when i saw his nice, well cared for truck, i was okay with it. but as i pulled my truck up to his to give him a jump-start, he opened the passenger door and hopped in. he told me he was okay with leaving his truck parked. he wondered if he could instead have a ride to the max station down the road. obviously, this raised more concern.
after some thought, and some rather direct questions for mike, i obliged his request. and i'm glad i did; he turned out to be an honest guy...