12.23.06

Little vlog. Little ham. Little awesome.

Ghostly grandmother

Ghostly grandmother
Originally uploaded by plumosita.

Fin.

Feel not neglected.

We have come to the end, and that is all. Not a door to new beginnings, not another adventure's start, the finish.

And it has been good.

A Trip to Powells

Gargoyles and Room 028
Originally uploaded by plumosita.

Downtown is pretty.

Not pretty like a flower, but more anthropologically. As a starting mark, the bums. We walk down the graffitied sidewalk stepping over tree grates filled with cigarette butts and the legs of a black man passed out blocking the way. This corner smells like piss and I suggest we find higher ground or a bookstore for refuge. The bookstore smells like spices, and because it is a used bookstore, like a thousand unique bookworms, this one a young hippie using Horoscope (Pisces) cologne, this one old, wrinkled and smelling of the same toilet water she's used for 40 years.

Back in the real world, a woman asks for money in a voice rasping from Marlboros, her face sagging with poverty and humiliation. Coldly we pass and don't make eye contact. Head for the Pearl.

I think of the unemployment/handout line near the bridge entrance and twenty or thirty men bunched together, some carrying tents, or nothing, or clothes, or with shopping carts full of bags and bottles, stooping over the wire mesh to protect the precious goods. Eventually the doors open, they're in line for food stamps and we're in the clean streets.

The Mandatory Update.

Feel like I'm nothin without you.

It's three miles to the river where you laied down your head. Dorwn'en in a river of tears. Isn't it a funny thing how music does that to you? Tow months to the dusty street that i saw you on today. It's four months to my lonly room where i will ide my lonly where i will hide my face. WOw i shouldn't listen to music like this. There we go something slightly lighter. The royal Tenenbaum. THat is a kickass movie for thoes of you who are so un lucky that you haven't seen it. Here are some pics'n'stuff for your vewing pleasure.

My selective memory won't let me

A long time ago near a small stream lived three elephants. The first elephant was a shadeless black like the pupils of your eyes. The second was almost clear and when it moved it was like the ripples on a cold pond or the heat rising off a dusty road. The third was gray and just a little dusty. The three elephants frequented the same watering hole and over time became close friends. They shared many of their deepest thoughts and feelings and helped each other in their times of trial. When the black elephant fell in a hole and broke it's leg, the other two were there to nurse it back to health and commiserate. When the clear elephant's mother drowned herself in the river, the others were there to help it through. And when the gray elephant was feeling down on life, the other two were always there to send along some happy thoughts.
One year there was a terrible drought and all the streams stopped flowing and the meres turned to small sticky pools of mud, buzzing with wasps. In their searches for water, the three friends ventured farther and farther apart until at last they stopped seeing each other all together. Perhaps one day the rains will come. But until then, their paths will be only occasionally clear and sometimes black. And just a little dusty.