all day adventure

July 10, 2010

A real summer adventure. Left the house at 9am and didn’t come back until 9pm. Spent a couple hours at the Oregon Country Fair. It’s one of the queerest non-queer events I’ve been to. I suspect I’d say the same thing if I went  to Burning Man. But I digress. RU and I took the longest way home, riding all these back roads, passing farmlands and vineyards and clumps of trees and cows and sheep eating up the grass in their pastures. We took a ferry across the Willamette, stopped at a roadside fruit stand and got organic blueberries, and had dinner at a taco truck in Woodburn where they make their tortillas by hand. I’m happy to be sun burnt and tired.

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i can see for miles on miles

July 8, 2010

More blue skies and hot temperatures and I refuse to complain about it. Or listen to complaints about it. Not that they’re not valid, I just don’t have receptive ears. I want to have an all on love affair with summer without having to fend off the naysayers.

Thanks to my friend, Shoshanna, I put in some serious-for-me biking miles last night, which included riding out to St. Johns, crossing over the deck of the bridge and riding back on Hwy 30. And Shoshanna was wearing a dress and flats with a strap! All in all, including my work commutes,  I think I might have ridden about 30 miles or so yesterday, making the pizza at end of the ride well worth it. It’s a pretty stunning view from the deck of the bridge, especially on a night like last night, when it was so clear and there wasn’t much traffic. The best part, though, may have been coming down the hill off the bridge and stopping for hydration in this pull out tucked into the edge of Forest Park. We were immersed into forest’s aroma. It was like diving into the deep end of summer.

I went to bed feeling tired in a good way and slept with the fan facing me.

I count myself lucky on all fronts.

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hey summer, i’m a fan

July 8, 2010

Real summer has finally showed up and we’re slated to get some pretty hot days here. Already, people are complaining about it, which I just don’t get. C’mon man, you can’t have summer without sweating, flip flops, bare skin, sticking to to your chair, sitting in front of a window fan and sleeping under only a single sheet, if that. I say bring it on, heat wave and all. For me these days are like a cute girl who comes late to a party, saddles up beside me and flirts shamelessly even though the host is about ready to kick us all out. I’m a fan of those kind of girls. They just make the world a whole lot more pleasant. So flirt with me all you want summer. Hell, tease me, even. I’m your guy. I fall for you every time.

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my credo or something like that

July 7, 2010

Oh goodness, it’s come to my attention that I’ve been indulging a little too much in some of my less than favorable character traits – cynicism, pretentiousness, criticism – stuff like that. And it’s not particularly endearing. Duh, right?! It’s easy to poke holes in things other folks believe, but it’s cheap too. So I thought the stand up thing to do would be to come up with a list of things I actually do believe in, like self awareness, personal accountability and intellectual curiosity, poetic license and artistic expression, and that everything changes, we all need each other, gratitude and compassion should be super powers, it’s good to share a meal, most things people say are crises aren’t, and everyone should let themselves really feel their heart break at least once. Hmm. I think I can stand by this, at least for a little while.


poetry and rain

July 2, 2010

Sheez, it’s raining cats and dogs this morning and I’m missing summer thunderstorms. So I read some poetry.

A Color of the Sky

Windy today and I feel less than brilliant,
driving over the hills from work.
There are the dark parts on the road
when you pass through clumps of wood
and the bright spots where you have a view of the ocean,
but that doesn’t make the road an allegory.

I should call Marie and apologize
for being so boring at dinner last night,
but can I really promise not to be that way again?
And anyway, I’d rather watch the trees, tossing
in what certainly looks like sexual arousal.

Otherwise it’s spring, and everything looks frail;
the sky is baby blue, and the just-unfurling leaves
are full of infant chlorophyll,
the very tint of inexperience.

Last summer’s song is making a comeback on the radio,
and on the highway overpass,
the only metaphysical vandal in America has written
in big black spraypaint letters,

which makes us wonder if Time loves Memory back.

Last night I dreamed of X again.
She’s like a stain on my subconscious sheets.
Years ago she penetrated me
but though I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed,
I never got her out,
but now I’m glad.

What I thought was an end turned out to be a middle.
What I thought was a brick wall turned out to be a tunnel.
What I thought was an injustice
turned out to be a color of the sky.

Outside the youth center, between the liquor store
and the police station,
a little dogwood tree is losing its mind;

overflowing with blossomfoam,
like a sudsy mug of beer;
like a bride ripping off her clothes,

dropping snow white petals to the ground in clouds,

so Nature’s wastefulness seems quietly obscene.
It’s been doing that all week:
making beauty,
and throwing it away,
and making more.

 -Tony Hoagland