Hallelujah

I told the truth, I didn't come to fool ya.

I would like to have a piano.

Dehydrating Fuji apple slices with cinnamon sugar.

Honing my Photoshop skills: cropping, converting to black and white, adding sepia. I am pretty proud of my work so far.

Feeling comfortable with everything. Not sure if that's out of ignorance or if it's really justified, but it's working for now.

Had a dream last night that Donna got rid of Adam and Eli. I arrived for Christmas, looking forward to seeing the dogs, and they were gone. I was heartbroken.

The burn pile from Thanksgiving is still smoldering. I noticed smoke rising from it when I was out today, sanding the handrail I installed a few weeks ago. The handrail is now nice and smooth. It's a Douglas Fir board, milled from a tree felled on this property.

Off to Denver next week; I will be deposed for the Quiznos lawsuit. I am absolutely unconcerned about this, in spite of being warned of how Q's lawyers will try to intimidate me. I have been through much worse, I'm certain. What can a lawyer do to me in a deposition except throw words at me? I probably have more words than him, although I know what my role will be: short, succinct answers. Don't offer any information; just answer the questions. Easy.

I have had my heart broken several times: by a girl; by my brother's death; a few others I won't mention.

I had two fingers amputated in a machine.

I had my two front teeth broken off at the gumline when I was 11.

I didn't have my own room when I was a kid. For a few years I slept in the dining room. My bed was there, with a small desk in the corner. There was no privacy. The rest of the family slept upstairs. I think it traumatized me in some way. Maybe that's why I like staying home by myself so much. My own space is all I really want in this world. Music playing, apples dehydrating, a laptop to spew stream of consciousness across the Internet. Catharsis, catharsis. It makes me feel good deep down.

As an adult I've been skinny (140 lbs) and kind of fat (205 lbs). That's quite a swing. I was really skinny from drug abuse when I went on active duty in the Navy in 1968. Working is ships' boiler rooms for two years in 110 - 125 degrees F. kept me skinny for a while. On average after that I guess I always stayed between 160 to 170 lbs. Quiznos really pushed me over the edge; Kalimba Grille made sure I didn't climb back up. It's hard to lose weight at my age; the metabolism doesn't respond well anymore, and I don't move around enough to compensate. And everything tastes so fuckin good.

Caity is making some sort of guacamole fajitas tonight; I am invited for dinner. I will surprise the Finchs by showing up with a plate of brownies and dehydrated Fuji apple slices with cinnamon sugar. I'll also return their cinnamon sugar, which I borrowed today while they were all out somewhere.

Ryan Adams uses toy instruments on at least one song, "Rainy Days", a masterpiece if ever I heard one. Nick is right; Adams is a genius, probably of the tragic variety. The more I hear the better I like him.

Don't sell the Beach Boys short. Listen to "Pet Sounds", there's some beautiful music there.

Listen to Beethoven's later string quartets, written in his last years of life. Pretty far out stuff; his contemporaries didn't understand it and rejected it. So much is like that; if it's not time, then it doesn't matter how good it is, whatever it is. Just do it, leave it there, and let someone else down the road figure out what it's worth, if anything.

Just have your own space, enjoy your own company, do the things only you like to do and be satisfied with it if you can. (The preceding is the secret to happiness. You heard it here first. You're welcome.).

Biz...Fab...Cheer...

I did all my laundry yesterday. I felt like Zoidberg, for some reason, a desparate man-lobster standing there alone folding socks and underwear. I know I will never learn to fold a fitted sheet; never. A quarter gets you approximately 8.5 minutes of drying time. I put all my clothes in one dryer load and put in 8 or 9 quarters.

I do things to kill time while the clothes wash and dry. I went to Fred Meyer’s (Oregon’s equivalent of Try ‘n’ Save) where I bought a dryer vent hose for the Finchs and some candy corn. I read some of “Sex, Lies and Cocoa Puffs”, which I bought in Cheyenne, Wyoming a long, long time ago. I finished a crossword puzzle in the newspaper someone left in the laundromat. I have started reading Shakespeare’s plays on line. Because I just finished King Lear I knew the answer to 7 down (clue: Regan’s father) was “LEAR”. How cool is that? (I am a solitary man).

I had a Quiznos sub for lunch: small mesquite chicken with bacon, with a bag o bbq chips and a bottle o water. This was my first Quiznos in at least four years. The small sub is a lot smaller than when I was a franchisee. The bread is narrower, and I believe the sub is shorter. That’s how Quiznos has been able to justify lower prices to compete with Subway. Still, the meal cost me about seven bucks. There’s no sales tax in Oregon. The sandwich was as good as I remembered, and the smaller size was just right.

Today Jim and I removed all the carpet from the stairs in the Big House. There were thousands of staples in it. We also installed the washer and dryer in the addition, now that the laundry room is ready for it.

FYI, there are three dogs here: Sampson, Tibetan Mountain Dog; Charlee, Rhodesian Ridgeback mix; and Naya, Australian Shepherd mix. Sampson and Naya are allowed to go out together, but not Sampson and Charlee. Since Charlee is descended from hunting dogs she tends to tear through the woods looking for adventure, and Sampson can’t resist. They have gotten into trouble before, actually making their way through the back of the property onto the road. Dangerous.

Sampson, Charlee and Naya

Jim went to the garage to get some tools and inadvertently let Sampson and Charlee out together. They found either a pile of compost or something dead and rotting in the woods, and they both rolled in it. They reaked like sour garbage when they returned; horrible stink. When we finished pulling up the carpets Jim and I took Charlee and Sampson to the dog wash.

“You Dirty Dog”, the dog wash in Sandy, was closing when we got there, so we traveled on to the next town, Gresham, and bathed the dogs at “Pup Wash”. I gave Charlee her bath. She seemed to like it a lot, at least the drying part. They gave us leather aprons to wear while we bathed the dogs.

Charlee’s coat is short, so I finished first, then she and I watched Jim drying Sampson. His coat is longer (Sampson’s not Jim’s) and he’s a lot bigger so takes longer to dry. As Jim went over and over the dog with the blow dryer, Sampson’s fur began to fly. Pretty soon it looked like it was snowing in the place, balls of fur floating everywhere.

The weather’s been good here lately. Mount Hood stands out clear against the bright blue October sky. The sun pours down like honey, lighting up the yellow and red autumn trees.

I am 60. If 60 is the new 50, and 50 is the new 40, I figure I have a lot of time ahead of me to fully acclimate to the West Coast. I feel it beginning; this is just the beginning.

Fortress of Solitude

One of the techniques for keeping this brief human life in perspective is to imagine the actual physical structure of the human body. Underneath the skin the circulatory system the organs is the skeleton. Easy to imagine the skeleton while sitting quietly. Easy and fascinating to observe others in the room and imagine what their skeletons look like. Not too large a leap of imagination to see a room full of skeletons.

When the body dies the outsides and insides melt away rather quickly leaving the bones. The skeleton tells much of the story of the former owner. Dental work. Missing teeth. Healed fractures. Mutant toes. Missing limbs or digits.

Think about how soft you are. Think about your skeleton. The framework for all that fleshy stuff you call your self. Think of your skull then pick up your cup and take a sip. The flesh of your mouth forms on the lip of the cup to prevent leaks and channel the liquid down your throat. A completely fleshy thing to do. No bones touch the cup but your jaw opens and your head tilts forward. Your hands grip the cup. Your arms raise it to your face. Your brain makes it all work effortlessy automatically. Thought is unnecessary when taking a sip from a cup but thinking about it is better. The essence of the Zen concept of mindful living. Applied to every act it makes a complete life of consciousness of the here and now which is all you have. After death that whole system disappears. Think about that. Along with the need to drink the flesh blood muscle brain and electrical impulses required to drink will be gone. All that flesh-gear you take for granted. What’s left is your framework. Your skeleton. Like the chassis of a burned out car. Just an archaeological record. Which eventually turns to dust.

Every time I think of my skeleton I instinctively straighten my spine. Just being mindful of this helps me carry my self better. All that meat and fat hung on my skeleton. Posture. Walk straight sit straight unclench relax. Remember my bones and they will serve me better. Being unmindful of my basic framework slouching or carrying too much weight will distort my bones over time. Gravity always wins.

How about that?

A Day in The Rose City

Portland is called the Rose City. I'll find out why someday but it really doesn't matter that much. It sounds okay. By contrast Leominster is the Plastics City. I think.

Monday 9/29 I went to Portland in the afternoon to soak up some city while waiting for the Oregon Symphony performance at 8 p.m. for which I had a ticket.

I dressed somewhat better than usual so as not to be embarrassed. I wore a gray shirt black pants and black dress shoes. After walking around for a while the stupid shoes hurt so I went back to the car and changed into my Birthday Sandals (thanks Donna) and turns out they are perfect for Portland Symphony performances. Nice color too. Went well with my gray black ensemble. Women know best.

I had a Super Dog and a Super Dog Ale at Super Dog a super hot dog joint beside the park. I sat outdoors and drank the beer observing city life. Then I sat in the park reading and observing some more.

* Almost everyone has a backpack (some have two).

* Also common: bicycles cell phones dogs sensible shoes.

* Lots of MP3 players some skateboards razr scooters.

* Some people sit in the park reading books. I did too.

* I should have brought the camera (next time).

* A guy rode by me on a Segway. He had tattoos and wore a helmet.

* I just heard someone say in a high pitched voice, "I am a banana!"

* Two old guys with white beards are sitting on separate benches reading books. One of them is smoking a blunt.

* The other old guy just lit a blunt and stared at me the whole time he was smoking it. I smiled at him but he just continued to stare and smoke. Then he left.

* There is an 8' bronze statue of Abraham Lincoln nearby on a pedestal. Often people stop and look up at him touch his shoes reach up and touch his hands. Parents with babies stop to show the babies Lincoln. The babies look up and point at Abe.

* I hate flip-flops because of that sound they make (Flip. Flop.).

The Symphony performs in the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall ("The Schnitz"). As evening came the lights on the marquee of The Schnitz sparkled and ran around the perimeter of the marquee. The street lamps in the park came on. People began to stroll through the park toward the Schnitz. Some wore suits and dresses. Some wore casual shirts and pants. I think I dressed appropriately even with the sandals. Some wore jeans.

An hour before the performance the conductor Carlos Kalmar gave a talk about the history of the music about to be performed. His enthusiasm was genuine. I learned a few things about the music which surprised me. I thought I knew it completely.

At 8 we were seated. The Schnitz is an old baroque styled theater. It's smaller than I thought it would be but my memories of Alice Tully Hall probably set my expectations high. I have not been to Lincoln Center in decades so probably it is even bigger in my memory than in reality.

The program began with Ralph Vaughn Williams' "Serenade to Music." Written in 1938 it is a beautiful delicate piece.

From the program: "The text is taken from the love scene at Belmont [in Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice], in which Lorenzo and Jessica, daughter of Shylock, are enraptured by the moonlit night and the music that wafts towards them from the town. The lushness of the harmonies, interspersed with individual solos, envelops the listener in a voluptuous cloud of sonorous beauty."

A bit purple. I think all solos are individual. Nevertheless a good description.

What followed was a performance of Beethoven's 9th Symphony with full orchestra and chorus.

This was for me the fulfillment of a long held wish to see such a performance. I was not disappointed. I have listened to recordings of the 9th so many times I have it memorized. To see this orchestra and chorus perform was even more fun than I imagined it would be. Due to my familiarity with the music I was able to anticipate each section and musician's performance on cue and to watch Carlos' conducting with a critical eye. How will he interpret this or that section? Is his enthusiasm well placed and genuine? It is.

When the performance ended I exited via a side door which brought me to the sidewalk next to the musicians' stage door exit. It was a beautiful night and the orchestra was coming out as I walked up the street back to the other side of the park where I had left my car.

I gush like a school girl. Suffice to say I am beginning to like Portland a lot. There was no hassle getting to the city and The Schnitz as there would probably have been in New York or Boston. Portland is not a bustling metropolis like those two cities. It is a deliberately livable city. Geography. Mindset. Planning makes it so. This is a city that wants its residents to like it. Everything from public transportation to parks to bicycle lanes and dog-friendliness tells the newcomer that this is a great place to live.

Italian Roast Coffee and a Piece of Cheese

Yesterday I took the Big Dog on a hike along the Salmon River. We loved it. Then we drove the Old Caravan up to Mount Hood and hung out a bit. B.D. tried to charge a pair of chipmunks in the parking lot but I managed to hold him back. He listens. He is a really good dog.

The TV stopped working yesterday and I don't care.

I am beginning to relax. Melt almost. The time spent worrying about what is coming next is drawing down to the noise level.

Here is why:
I am in a truly beautiful part of the world.
I am doing some labor in exchange for room board and $100 cash a week.
I am occupying a really nice private studio apartment in the woods complete with wood stove and all the wood I need to keep warm.
I am bonding with 3 dogs and 2 people who seem to truly wish me well.
I have use of an 86 Dodge Caravan in which I once rode to Big Sur from San Francisco.
I am going to see a performance of Beethoven's 9th Symphony in Portland next Monday with full orchestra and chorus (an item high up on my life list).
I am not being judged. I am free to get out of my own way and sort out my life.
I no longer feel guilty and that I should be doing something else. This is where I am. This is where I want to be. This is what I should be doing.

Melting into change.

The First Post: I am all here. I am changing day by day. Age is never a barrier if you're mobile and functional. I am. All for now.