Passage I

by Maureen N. McLane

garden gate, NE portland

little moth
I do not think you’ll escape
this night

I do not think
you’ll escape this night
little moth

*

bees in clover
summer half over
friends without lovers

*

I bite a carrot
horsefly bites me

view from my bedroom window

*

I thought it was you
moving through the trees

but it was the trees

I thought it was your finger
grazing my knee

it was the breeze

continue reading »

It’s been raining seemingly unstop since April and, as such, we’ve been accustomed to the slug infestation. I rarely see snails, however, so I take my time playing w/the little fellow. I often forget the pleasure in taking 15 minutes to watch, breathe, listen.

And, as I begin to prepare myself for another birthday, I realize the progress in going slow. I can see the trail- carefully chartered, executed and captured. No energy waisted in u turns and destinationless revolutions.

This past weekend, I went with some friends to Astoria for the 25th Anniversary of the Goonies celebration and was blessed with a day of sunshine, delicious food at the Columbian Cafe – without a doubt, the best brunch on the Pacific Coast.

As we checked out the "for sale" sign on the house next to "THE Goonies House" I spotted Mr Quackles. His owner came home as we were chatting and informed us that friendly Mr Quackles’ partner recently passed away after an unfortunate encounter with a raccoon. I would have stayed longer to continue conversing with the lonely, chatty duck, but I opted to make my way down the hill in silence.

I found this sticker, conveniently placed next to a pen on a string, on a street sign pole outside the Red Flag in Portland OR.

Yes, I took advantage of this social art experiment. If you can track down the sticker, can you guess which answer is mine?

Any idea who’s collating these? Have you seen any others?

Why are you awesome?

A horse hair falls into the water and grows into an eel.
     Even Aristotle believed that frogs
                                formed from mud,
that mice sprouted like seedlings in the damp hay.

     I used to believe the world spoke
                           in code. I lay awake
and tried to parse the flashes of the streetlight—
       obscured, revealed,
                    obscured by the wind-sprung tree.
Stranded with you at the Ferris wheel's apogee
       I learned the physics
                    of desire—fixed at the center,
it spins and goes nowhere.

       Pliny described eight-foot lobsters
                         sunning themselves
on the banks of the Ganges. The cuckoo devouring
       its foster mother. Bees alighting
                         on Plato's young lips.

In the Andes, a lake disappears overnight, sucked
       through cracks in the earth.
                         How can I explain
the sunlight stippling your face in the early morning?

Why not believe that the eye throws its own light,
       that seeing illuminates
                    the world?
                         On the moon,
astronaut David Scott drops a hammer and a falcon feather,
     and we learn nothing
                    we didn't already know.

• The USA has an estimated population of 308 Million.
  • Of these, roughly 250 Million are 14-95.
• Facebook has 400 Million users world-wide.
  • 70% are outside of the US, leaving us with 120 Million Americans.
  • That’s darn near 40% of our population – or 2 out of every 5 Americans for those of you preferential to chewing gum commercials.
• If we look at these by age ranges, I have a hunch that this ratio will creep closer to 50% - or 1 out of every 2 for those of us between the ages of 15 and 40.
  • If anyone can find Facebook data on US members by the same age groups, I’ll do the math.

Now let me go back to that word series. On one hand, I want to fill in “Dislike” and start on a rant of how Facebook is perpetuating the teenage fallacy that the world, choices and judgements are black and white. And that our opinions are facts. And there is no room for savoring chocolate or appreciating nuance. That there is only Like and Dislike.

On the other, Facebook has no Dislike button. So I can’t completely back that up, though living in America’s #2 hipster capital, Portland OR, I can begin to argue that the lack of an opinionated “Dislike” is encouraging apathy. Don’t agree with something? Eh, let it slide. No use in caring enough to disagree or debate.

In both hands is a rather scary phenomenon: nearly half of us Americans are being faced with a seemingly trivial choice more and more frequently every day: do we like something? There is no “kinda-like”, “kinda-think-is-funny”, “don’t like it, but curious where this is going”, “my condolences, i’d like to stay in the loop so i know you’re ok”, etc. (The folks over at buzzfeed have quite the range-ometer.)

After seeing more and more disturbing tea party videos where angry constituents blather on about the only 2 options we as Americans have, to LOVE our country and to HATE our country, I grow concerned that we’re teaching our youths and even ourselves to be intolerable. That there is no in between.

I’m not saying that I want to see 5 stars everywhere, but the simple task of rating engages our brain in a much different way than the simple yes or nothing. What would happen to our collective groupthink when we began practicing critical thinking and rational assessments on a daily basis rather than emotional extremism?

Cheers,
-jewel

Did you know, for instance, that kitty-corner evolved from catty-corner, which evolved from catercorner? Catercorner was a compound word from the now outdated cater, which meant four. Four corners- get it?  (I tried looking up the etymology of cater to no avail, though found a separate obsolete meaning, matching cater with the purveyor of foods.) The word finally makes sense to me, as I rarely see cats scuttling across streets, corner to corner. (They tend to prefer the safety of curbs.)

As it turns out, when the root of a word dies and loses it’s contemporary meaning, people often mistake that root for a different synonym. As such, asparagus became sparrow-grass in Europe. (Who knew that originally took its name from the Person asparag, meaning “sprout” or “shoot”? Fun little run-down on wikipedia.)

After digging around on some folk etymology history, here’s a few of my light favorites:

• French (e)crevisse  (likely from Germanic krebiz and Old English’s crabba for “crab”, which became our crayfish / crawfish
• Old English bryd-guma (“bride-man”) became bridegroom after the Old English word guma fell out of use and made the compound semantically obscure.
• hangnail from agnail (from the Old English, “A corn or sore on the toe or finger.”)
• penthouse from pentice (“An extension of a building’s roof and the protected area beneath.”)
• chaise lounge from chaise longue (from the French, meaning “long chair”)
• A slug of liquor from the Irish word slog , meaning to swallow
• Island gets a little more complicated- you’ll just have to read about it here

Hmm, I’m going to keep watching the movie- but the next time I get some free time, I want to make my own Wire-Wall Street “Cast & Crew” chart. Maybe someone’s already started one?

[googling.....]

Sure enough. I love how I’m never the only one with hair brained ideas. Check it out:

Its officially been one year that The Wire has been off the air. Erin Evans over at The Root has a good article on Wire withdrawal. Still we have to remember that one of The Wire’s biggest fans, Barack Obama is now running the country and is caught up in his own drama with situations and characters so interesting and complex it could’ve been written by David Simon. Here are some things that Barack Obama could’ve learned from The Wire. If the world was David Simon’s Baltimore, who would Obama be? Who would be Clay Davis and McNulty?

More…

Before I finish reading, I’m putting in my initial votes: Obama-Carcetti. Davis-Paulson. McNulty-Michael More. I’m also glad to know I’m not the only one suffering from The Wire Withdrawal.

you’re a skater who loved to be hated, wanted to be a lover
and lusted after life. you’d nollie so high, you’d clear three moons
in one night. shit, you ate three pies to prove your eyes don’t shine
brighter than your belly- like the the world.
your eyes used to shine.

wanderlust
turned you into vagabond. fear
into vagrant. a vacant
soul your parking lot
you ride
concrete
til heat is eaten by night.

saturn gonna bring
you back.
from vacant.
vagrant.
vagabond. wanderlust.
wunderkind
lover.

ain’t no one going to tell you anything you don’t already know.

Eric Isaacson, of Mississippi Records, interviewed Fred and Toody Cole, famed founders of Dead Moon, in a comfortably packed cafe in North Portland at the Waypost. Now I’ll be honest and admit that I knew little of the pair or the band, except for hearing their “Fire in the Western World” song covered at many a Mission 5 show- and all the raving on their exceptional influence on many a Portland rock band.

The two traded off telling stories from meeting in a cafe, while Toody was sweeping the floor and Fred was passing through Portland after his van ran out of gas, to raising a family and touring with their latest band, Pierced Arrows. They talked about heading back from LA with their kids packed above the guitars they just picked up for their music shop. When asked about the odd anomaly of why so many punk musicians are running around Portland with expensive, rare guitars, Fred explained that he used to get prototypes from a famous guitar maker (unfortunately, I can’t remember the name) and sold them for cheap. They bounced back and forth, keeping the audience laughing and rounded out the evening with four acoustic songs since the “surprise guest” didn’t show to play covers (or at least that’s what Marc Moscato said, with a wink).

While I wanted to put the presenters from last month’s series in a room with my grandpa, I wanted to put these two in a room with my mom. They seemed to resonate with her work hard, play hard, tell-it-like-it-is and apologize-to-no-one-for-being-who-you-are method of living.

Fittingly enough, I then headed over to Rich Landar’s weekly Sonic Jelly Jam with the week’s guest, Steve Wilkinson, at KJs on SE Division. Since Steve was responsible for my initial exposure to Dead Moon, it only seemed right to round out the evening watching him and former bandmate Grant Cumpston, from Gravelpit. (If you haven’t heard of them, I recommend checking out this little Portland rock history article I stumbled upon that picks up a little after where the earlier history lesson left off.) Jolie Clausen played drums, Allan Markel played bass and all four pulled off an energetic set, taking little time between songs to shout out chords and timings. If Steve hadn’t mentioned that they’d never played together before, I would have thought they’d been a band for years. If you haven’t checked out a jam session, I must recommend it. The space is intimate, the crowd laid back and musicians entertaining.

Next month’s Northwest Passage event will feature CALVIN JOHNSON, VANESSA RENWICK, COOL NUTZ and if it’s anything like the last two (and it will be)- it’s not to be missed. Hope to see you there!