Portland!

The first thing to know is that I forgot to bring a camera. This post will be much less exciting than I intended it to be.

The second thing is that I'm really bad at planning trips. I had the nights off -- we were there for a VISTA in-service-training -- and could have explored more if I had figured out my doings beforehand. But I didn't.

The first night I was sick-ish and moody. I tried to go somewhere and ended up getting as far from the hotel as a nearby Domino's, buying some cheesy bread and falling asleep.

The second night --

I could tell you about the days. They were long and there were Sessions. Some were more interesting than others and all of it was Helpful.

The second night I was determined to go out. I ate dinner at a table with Portland natives. Upon discovering this I said, with a quiver of desperation in my voice:

"Where is Fun?"

They looked at me confused. "Fun? Is that the name of a place?"

"No...I mean I want to get drunk around people like me."

More confusion, more blank looks, and "What kind of person are you?"

Um. "A damn fine fellow?"

Laughter. But still confusion. How are they not getting it? Isn't Portland the Land of Cool?

"Be more specific," they said. "Do you want to go dancing? Do you want a pub-type atmosphere?"

Ugh. I thought this would be easier. How can I figure out what I want without saying the word "hipster"? "Um....I want to go where..."

How to describe it to them? Images tumbled through my mind of a thousand drunken nighttimes. I seized upon one: "I want to go where the boys wear really tight jeans!"

Suddenly, the table fell quiet.

Okay, fuck it, "Where are all the hipster bars!?" And you don't understand what it took to admit that. I fled to rural Oregon to escape all of that, the Scene and the nonsense. And here I find myself languishing without it, not knowing what to do with myself or who to talk to.

Eventually, I left the hotel and went out into the night with a couple of people I found who were also going out. I drank 10 new Rogue beers. My favorite:

...

...

It turns out I cannot remember the name. I guess that shouldn't be a surprise.

The night ended with me alone in a bar near our hotel. A band was playing some kind of jazz, and I nursed a Fat Tire and smoked maybe 14 cigarettes and fantasized that All My Friends walked in and knew me and sat down to hang out, but they didn't, and I was moody and stumbled angry back to the hotel and passed out.

And that was Portland.

Bright Side: This morning, we visited Powell's Books. That was delightful. I purchased:

Glorianna, by Michael Moorcock;
A Clash of Kings, by George R.R. Martin;
The Order of Things, by Michel Foucault.

The first I've been looking forward to for a while now. The second is comfort food: When I am sad I crave epic nerd fantasy. The third makes up for the second (you can use Foucault to pretty much cancel out every embarrassing book you want to read).

I am back in Roseburg now. Yeah, I've decided to use the town's real name. I suppose it's not a bad place. But part of me would rather be elsewhere...

A Day Without Rain

Ooooooh, that was a trick title. This is actually a post about LINKS!

...Cause if you remember correctly, that is one of this blog's purposes. So let's link to things!

"The Terrorists Still at Ground Zero." This is an article from Counterpunch yesterday by Alexander Cockburn, a very fine if Trotskyish fellow. It begins by telling us this:

Terrorism flourishes brazenly at Ground Zero, in the new 7 World Trade Center building. Here can be found a secretive entity of fabulous wealth and power. Kingdom and corporations alike tremble at its shadow and make haste to pay it tribute.

I refer to Moodys Investor Services, wholly owned subsidiary of Moody's Corporation, which reported $2 billion in revenues in 2006.On January 10 Moody's, in concert with the other main bond rating firm, Standard and Poor's, gave the United States its top AAA credit rating. The terrorist blackmail threat came in the form of a demand by Moody's that the U.S. government "reform" Social Security and Medicare: "In the very long term, the rating could come under pressure if reform of Medicare and Social Security is not carried out as these two programs are the largest threats to the long-term financial health of the United States and to the government's Aaa rating."

...and goes on to tell us even more. Reccomended reading!

Food Insects Dot Com. I wish this site had more information than it did, because this is a very important and interesting topic. It would be a perfectly fine thing I think if we all ate 30 or 50 times as many bugs as we do, and I'm not even talking about shrimp and crabs. There was a good article on Alternet about this the other day, and it talked about other important things too.

Libcom.org. Libcom as in Libertarian Communism. It was here that I recently found and read the full text of Orwell's Homage to Catalonia, and maybe you should read it too.

Speaking of books, I like this thing: Good Reads. It is a social-site-thing where you talk about the books you're reading. I started mine for the books I am reading as of 2008. But I tend to read like half a dozen books at the same time so I don't know if it will work (in the last week and a half for example I got myself 20 new books and have started maybe half of them).

Well. That should be enough links to last anyone a long time. Good bye everybody, and Goodbye, Fidel.

How Things Are Going In Oregon

Hello, loyal readers.

I know, it has been a long time. Never fear, your Steve feels your pain. And he is back, with an all-new blog post, called "How Things Are Going In Oregon."

So.

In Oregon, people are different from the people we know. People keep telling me how Eastern I am. For example, in a grant-writing class I was in last week I made some off-handed comment and the middle-aged housewife next to me giggled and touched my arm and said "Oh, you're so Eastern!" This distresses me. I suspect a deep-rooted Orientalism in this culture, and with Mr. Said dead and gone I do not know what to do.

In Oregon, I have moved into an apartment. I have a roommate who is a very fine fellow, my own bathroom (!!), and I am lobbying to be allowed a cat. Right now my place looks like this:



You cannot tell, but that bed (on which I sit at this very moment!) is insanely large. In Oregon, there are frighteningly kind people who give you things like gargantuan beds when you move to town and are in A Merry Corps (as I am).

Also in Oregon, there is a magnificent seacoast! Today, I went with my roommate and two of his friends on a journey westward. First we drove through a country that looks something like this:



...with countless trees and hills. The trees I think are Douglas fir and I don't even know them very well or their uses.

After many miles of these trees, we arrived in the town of Bandon. Most of my photos of Bandon, tragically, did not turn out. So I deleted them. (Or, you might say, I Bandoned them. Hah. Hahah. Yeah.) But it looks something like this:



....all fishing-village-gone-touristy. It is little and exceedingly cute. And it has signs like this!:




.........and you probably can't tell what that says, but it says "Tsunami Evacuation Route." In Oregon they have freaking tsunamis! They didn't have tsunamis in Pennsylvania. (Did they?)

In Bandon we browsed cute old-hippie-run stores which all only sold beads (except one which was a candy store and sold candy, including beer candy, but the beer candy tasted like Miller lite and I didn't like it), and then finally we we arrived upon this:





...and there were even more pictures than this but none of them turned out terribly well.

There were:

Gigantic rocks which looked aged and wise and totally indifferent;

An archway of rock like a mouth through which big white waves crashed;

Great fat starfish clinging to rocks, alongside barnacles and mussels and things that were balls of green slime living inside gross fleshy cups, and at least one sea anemone who closed his spines and tried to eat us, but we weren't fish and he couldn't;

And of course seagulls, all fat and white and arrogant, perching on rooftops and looking disdainfully down at the town and its inhabitants. How I love seagulls. A difference between the beach here and Maryland: No one told me how much they hate seagulls, and how they're just big rats that live in the air, and how dreadful it is that they eat all the food that careless people leave on the beach so that the whole place isn't a mess.

When we arrived at the beach the first thing I did of course was take off my boots, my socks and my coat and run toward the water. The Pacific is so cold! The kind of cold that steals your breath just touching your feet, that is so cold it doesn't even feel like cold anymore. But there were rocks to climb on, so I went on. Before long my jeans were soaked to my knees. And then I was in front of the giant Mouth of rock and there were waves crashing, so I walked forward one step and fell in up to my chest! I gasped and choked and it was so cold I couldn't think as I groped my way toward land.

So then of course I tore off my shirt (which was soaking anyway) and ran forward into the waves and knelt down in the water and fell forward on my face. The rush was like taking a drug, and when I got back to shore my skin was all on freezing-fire and I was high on cold and ran around the beach like a loon.

Then of course after a half hour of this I couldn't feel my feet anymore, my shirt I had lost somewhere among the rocks and in the end it took me about 3 hours to feel anything like warm again.

But it was so good!

The Pacific, the Pacific here on the Oregon coast in winter-- It's so different from the Atlantic. I've never been afraid of the Atlantic. The Pacific is old and giant and capricious, it would kill you and never notice or care.

And I'm back home now, in my giant bed that is like another room all by itself. I'm out of cigarettes and exhausted, and feeling pretty good. Until next time, Anybody!

updates from Oregon

in the valley,

grey clouds overhead

mountains topped by snow and fog--

It would be easy to go mad here.

*

Steve tries to be Gary Snyder.

It is Winter now, and Oregon Winter sucks. Supposedly this late snowfall is the worst we have had in years; a decade or more. I said, "Man, this is snow." Someone said, "And when a guy from Pennsylvania says that, you know he's serious."

And I was.

Why would I lie?

*

What else is on my mind.

Los Angeles was madness. Heath Ledger died, and the next day an Irishman called me "the bloody reincarnation o' Heath Ledger." I wasn't though and it was sad that he died. Then later I gave someone a cigarette, and I said to this girl I had been hanging out with, "I really like giving people cigarettes."

She said, "Why?"

I didn't like her anymore after that.

*

I don't know what else to tell you. It has been such a terribly long time since I have updated this. My goal was thrice a week. But I was in LA. From now on the goal is, thrice a week if I am in a place from which I can blog.

Okay, that's a fine goal.

The Night Before Los Angeles

So, tomorrow I am leaving for Los Angeles. That is exciting! Except that I will get there at 1:00. To get to Los Angeles from Roseburg at 1:00 I must leave for Eugene at 6am, fly from Eugene to Portland, be annoyed at having to fly North to fly South, then fly from Portland to LA. After my recent experience with changing planes I am concerned. We are going to LA for our VISTA orientation, which begins tomorrow evening. Hopefully we will arrive on time and in the proper city.

It is late here. It is weird that this is my first full week in Oregon. So far I have:

• Gotten an Oregon bank account.


• Gotten an Oregon cell phone.


• Applied to rent an Oregon apartment.


• Applied for Oregon food stamps.


• Eaten Oregon Chinese food.


• Drunk Oregon beer (it's really good!)


• Drove an Oregon truck.


• Gotten an Oregon bike (yay!).


• Paid NO Oregon sales tax, because they don't have it!
  


• Made a couple of Oregon friends.


• Still at the awkward stage there.


• Skipped Oregon Mass yesterday and felt terribly guilty, since I live with an Oregon priest.

My current review of Oregon: Wow, it's different from Pennsylvania. But maybe not that different. Maybe people are just Americans, here in America. But I don't completely know yet. At the same time, I feel like every person I've met in this town has been incredibly friendly. VISTA people, bank people, waittress people, ranchers, farmers.

Oregon trees are different from Pennsylvania trees. Lots and lots and lots of Pine and Oak, Douglas Fir. Haven't seen a Spruce, a Hemlock, a Maple.

I cannot identify any other trees and only know the Douglas Fir because it was pointed out to me.

Lots of blackberries here.

Blackberries are invasive exotics and they are everywhere. Everyone else in the forest thinks they are bad, but I disagree and so do you and the sparrows.

Of course they are not out yet.

People here think I am insane because I do not drive a car. And maybe they are right. All of America that doesn't live in a city has to drive a car. But, they keep being shocked and horrified when I walk distances greater than half a mile.

Granted, I have been deliberately pushing it: on Saturday I did a 7-mile round trip to the bank and back, because the only bank I could find open was 3 and a half miles away.

But historically, that's not even that much. Hunter-gatherers walked on average 7 miles a day.

And you know, I feel like, if I said to people "I did a seven-mile HIKE today," everyone would applaud and be all Oh yeah that's very good Yeah hiking Hiking's good I respect that Yeah I really respect that. And what I would really be saying is "I went and walked seven miles in the woods for no goddam good reason." But say to people, "I needed to go somewhere today, for a good purpose, and I walked, thus simultaneously accomplishing my necessary tasks AND getting exercise" and everyone turns up their nose.

Of course, it's exceedingly respectable to get exercise provided it:

1. Serves no useful purpose whatsoever;
2. Is facilitated by the purchase of unnecessarily expensive equipment;
3. Takes place within a gym.
   

Hypotheses:

1. If you walk (or get any sort of exercise) for any useful reason it says that you couldn't afford to have a machine do it for you.


2. But if you get exercise for no reason, it tells everyone that a) you're above manual labor, otherwise you would be too tired to do this, and you wouldn't need to anyway; b) you have money for a gym membership; c) you have money for running shoes; d) you accept Middle and Upper-Class values--you are running, not smoking.

Consequence:

America is a nation of depressed, obese, but rose-scented and spotless Middle-Class mannikins who would be happier, healthier and even fucking wealthier if they would just get off their asses.

Even when it's a little cold out!

Midnight in Oregon

At this hour, a few important thoughts are on my mind:

• I KNOW THE LAST FUCKING POST FAILED. It's not my fault, it's the website I was getting screenshots from. They worked immediately after I posted them, and then, they didn't. It happens. Greatness involves missteps. Listen to the last six fucking tracks on Sandinista! if you don't believe me -- the last one has fucking sheep in it! Sheep, on the same album as The Magnificent Seven! What the fuck, Joe Strummer?

• I hate Larry Suarez. Let me repeat myself. I hate Laurence O'Neal Suarez. Why? Is it because he owes me money? No, not even Larry owes me money. Is it because he is such a douchebag? No, if I hated douchebags, I wouldn't have anymore friends. No, I hate Laurence O'Neal Suarez because: Every fucking time I see the motherfucker he has a camera and he takes a picture of me. Every party, every random encounter, every everything. And right here, at this stupid website, he has pictures of the last 3 years, pictures of Jay, pictures of Rob, pictures of Boette, pictures of Jane, pictures of Ben Fucking Macken, pictures of John "Actually a Douchebag, Unlike Everyone Else Who Has Redeeming Qualities" Kyle. What pictures are there of Steve Thomas? Like, 4. And all are from 3 years ago, and half involve me being harmed in some way.

• So I'm calling on all loyal Cats and Gardeners to join my campaign to harm Larry Suarez. He deserves it! Deface his blogs! Throw stuff at his house! Be mean to his roommate!

• Well. Don't be mean to his roommate. But go ahead and be mean to her mustache. It is retarded.

• Now it is no longer midnight in Oregon. It is 10:30 in Oregon, and it is the next day. Today will be an exciting day of getting food stamps, driving a truck, and going to Oregon's first party ever! Ta-ta everybody, and remember, if you see this retard:
  
  
  
  be sure to harm him!

The First Travel Blog Ever!

Hi anybody!

Wow, it's been a few days. Lots of stuff has happened since January 13th. For example, now my blog has become a travel blog!

"Goodness Jesus, Steve, I just got this 'blog' concept down, and now you're telling me about travel blogs? How am I supposed to keep up!"

Well, my friend, a "travel blog" is a blog about a 22 to 28-year-old who goes to a different place and takes pictures with their digital camera of that place and posts them online! Much like an ordinary blog, it is important to have links, but unlike an ordinary blog, links take a backseat to pictures of the place you now live.

There was just one problem: I didn't have a digital camera! So I would have to rely upon my powers of description, and the fact that every image of every event that ever happened can now by discovered on Google image search, to share my adventures with my adoring readers.

***

Random Slices of Oregon

• First of all, let me tell you about my town. I am afraid to name it, because no one I work for should ever ever see this blog ever, so we shall call it "Okoge," after a Japanese word roughly translating as "fag hag." Okoge is a really pretty place. It looks kind of like Johnstown, only, like someone took a picture of Johnstown and airbrushed it.
  
• This is the internet's best picture of Johnstown, where they edited out almost all the ugly:
  Okoge is better than that. I wouldn't even have to edit it.
• Every other thing here is called Umpqua. The river through town is called Umpqua. The bank is called Umpqua. The region is the "hundred valleys of the Umpqua." The local Indians are named Umpqua. Umpqua is an Indian word meaning "thing."
• All of the deciduous trees are covered with this lovely light-green moss. I thought it was so cool until I found out it's actually some terrible disease that is killing them slowly and prettily.
• I am now driving a pickup truck!!! Here is a picture of me with it: As you can see, I have also taken this opportunity to become a shitbag redneck sonofabitch who writes songs about being a "patriot" and a "working man" while selling out to a company that helps keep America dependent upon foreign oil and, of course, actually being a wealthy superstar who will never have to work another day in my life.
• Jesus Fucking Fuck I hate Toby Keith.
• I mean remember that fucking "I'm a ford truck man. That's all I drive! Ain't got no boundaries, I don't compromise" shit. That pissed me off even more than his Courtesy of the Red White and Blue bullshit, like, yeah, okay, if I spend thousands of dollars on a gas-guzzling motherfucking automobile and drive around and burn oil and run over deer and cats and dress like a fucking retard, I will finally be free and independant. Fuck you, Toby Keith, and Fuck you, Ford.
• That said, I now drive a pickup truck.
• I am thinking of buying a rifle to put in the bed. Just because.
• All kidding aside, I support the Second Amendment, for good reasons.
  
• I don't remember what I am talking about or why.
• Okay, Oregon. Um, so, what else do you want to know? I have new friends now, and I went out with them to a bar the other night. The bar is this:

and it is pretty okay. It has excellent beer. I drank a Christmas ale that was maybe the best Christmas ale I have ever had, and regaled my new friends with my personal experiences with fireplay.

• I wasn't joking, and they were horrified.
• After this we went to a smaller bar that had Budweiser, shuffleboard, and old men with long hair and beards. I was bad at shuffleboard until I got drunker. Then I was good.
• Okay it's like 11:00 so I am going to go do something.
  
• By everybody!
• Please enjoy these pictures of scenic Oregon:

Update: BOO! Stupid website ruins my Oregon Trail joke. Fuck them!