where the interstitial meets the wave

I sit for a long while in front of this blank page, sort of page, with pixels and images and guides, I sit against the dark back drop of an unlit kitchen, trying to pin a concise thought down in my agitated brain, searching for a pithy word or a delicate nuance, while Frere and Bellesoeur soak in the hot tub and I still haven't taken off my coat.

we came home from pinball and pool last night and drank light beer in the hot tub as the rain came down, it was some sort of magic. Can you possibly guess which of the statements in the above I thought I'd never utter. Light Beer. Things Fucking Change.

Names and faces swirl, names and faces blur.

I woke in a panic the other morning because I realized my potential house (knocks wood) has no closet space. I had been dreaming about being under water, tailed by a great white shark, I had turned so that I wouldn't see the inevitable attack. I woke up and though I wasn't disoriented, I wondered aloud what the hell am I doing here, what the hell have I done, as I stumble through the day without any specific routine to serve as a fundamental foundation, I know myself to be almost scarily malleable, but christ almighty, this is fucking nuts.

and yet.

and yet, I went with my new friends to the farmer's market at the crack of dawn, nearly, ok, it was nine. My new friends and their beautiful girl L. Dragonfly and it was a beautiful morning in Portland, the sun was shining wanly, but the day was full of welcome. I bought a bunch of things on strange whims, braising greens because they were beautiful, some local hard cider because I liked the bottle, rillettes, well porky goodness is irresistable, three pints of the best strawberries I have ever tasted, even going so far as to wager that they might trump the wild strawberries from the Dordogne - ok - pushing it, but still, fucking awesome.

I walked a mile in the rain to get to a bar last night, I had on my rain coat and flipped up the hood and found the walk to be less antagonistic than I would have thought. Maybe my San Francisco skin yields better to this new city than I could have anticipated.

This morning after the market, I went exploring, pulled along by the dog. At some point I realized that I was wildly happy, tromping through the leaves, admiring houses and trees, all of these alien structures and narrow streets with round abouts that we couldn't make fly in San Francisco, the absence of people on sidewalks, but mostly all of the autumn colors turning to mulch on the sidewalks and in the gutters, just walking and walking and walking, I knew that I had made the right decision. The house (knocks wood) will work if it's meant to, the job will work if it's meant to. I'll meet people, I might even make real friends, I think I already have.

Next internets, you will see me farting rainbows and falling in love, anything is possible, just you wait.