I didn't really write a unified essay today. But, fuck it, I mentioned Portland a few times. Forgive me if this is too much like a cross-posted personal journal entry. Well, it IS one. So, read if you wanna. Your mileage may vary. :)
I was going to write something about how I have a long post in me, and then I realized that sounded kinda like something that Dirk Digler's girlfriend would say during sex. Suffice it to say that I have not written enough lately, and there are things to be said. Things.
It's easy for a Portlander to get knocked off of one's groove in the summertime. For the first month of summer, we're not really sure whether it really is
summer, mostly because it usually isn't. And, if it is, we don't trust it. We peer suspiciously at the sky, awaiting portents of coming rain. We bitch if we get rained on. We bitch if we don't. If it's hot, it's too hot. If it's cool, when the fuck is it going to get hot? We're either moldy or peeling from sunburn.( Collapse )