Things I did in Portland this weekend that are unlike me

I wore a dress without a bra.
I rode a bike and liked it.
I drank beer and liked it.
I made some good shots whilst playing pool.

I was naturally friendly, and I liked it.
I went to Home Depot.

I bought an Ipod and reluctantly joined the 21st century.
My brother loaded it with a boggling number of songs.

I looked at houses with a real estate agent - three I coveted, three were awful.
I met a nice girl on the plane.

I caught a glimpse of wide open possibility and was not afraid.

I was genuinely surprised at the ease with which I slid into a new skin, I was genuinely surprised at how I was enchanted with notion of a new place. I was even more surprised that I didn't cry in the bathroom at the airport, like I have on every flight back to San Francisco.

On the flight up I was watching the topography of California out the window, how well I know it. I got lost after Crater Lake, how I know it from the air like the lines of my palm, so surprisingly well, because who but the deviners of the future ever pays any attention to life lines and love lines. I kept an ear cocked for the underpinnings of grief, but they never came, still haven't come, now that I am back in my apartment, listening to my gadget as the tendrils of fog embalm my car and seep through my walls, feeling positively unluddite-like. I am befuddled by the relentless possitivity, I keep sending probing fingers to the sensitive spots and insecure organs to test for tenderness, yet the metaphysical flesh is resilient, radiating some foreign perfume of sublime hopefulness, it's so alien and feels so good, that though it's late and I have to go to work in the morning, I feel obliged to capture this oddidity and describe it, before the night ghasts and the burden of the quotidien come and strip it from me.

I think, that upon my return from my future city, and as the plane banked over the twin rivers, over the span of that sliver of a city, that I just might be brightly happy.

I think I owe it to my brother, who seems to really want me there, and to his lovely future wife for their enthusiastic welcome.

Alors merci, mon frere, quelque part il y a une belle chanson qui t'attends.

The weather wasn't gorgeous, it rained, but it was a warm rain. I found it to be romantic.

p.s. earbuds hurt my ears.