Sisters of Mercy.

I saw Sisters of Mercy in concert the other night at a place called the Crystal Ballroom. Very cool show. These guys were all business. No banter, just took the stage and rocked out loud for about an hour. The fog machines that are apparently a staple of their tour environment filled the whole place, such that you couldn't even see the band unless you were pretty close to the stage, or up in the balcony area. Good times.

V for Vendetta.

For about $8.00, or $6.00 if you're military, you can buy a one-use-only ticket to 'V for Vendetta', a convoluted mess of an action film with some interesting characters and a forgettable plot. The film will make some half-baked, but highly fashionable political statements, and make an attempt to create a brief, halting romantic interest between the lead characters.

For about $15.00, you can buy the book, which will last you a lot longer. You'll read it again and again, marveling at the genius of both the author and his protagonist. You will see this protagonist weave a web of intrigue so flawless that it will seem like a magic trick, even as you watch it unfold. You will question your own ideals, and those of others, and you will sigh at the Shakespearean ending.

Forget the movie. Buy the graphic novel instead.

Virginia's Cafe.

Lack of any real human contact for the last fifteen days has left me in a strange state. Listless, and yes, perhaps a bit depressed, I wandered out of my new apartment this morning in search of a reliable breakfast establishment. So it was that I happened upon Virginia's Cafe.

I think that now would be a good time to mention that while I have not faltered in my resolve to stop smoking, I cannot say the same for the partaking of the occasional drink. Upon entering Virginia's Cafe, I was a bit startled when I opened the door of the diner to find a large sign which read: "NO MINORS", followed by a smaller sign which read, "Please seat yourself". And so I did.

The drink list was a simple five item thing which included Guinness, Bailey's and Coffee, Irish Cream Coffee, the Irish Car Bomb and Irish Coffee with Jameson. So began my day. Best of all was the music. Nearly all underground fifties and seventies tracks, with a touch of the nineties here and there. There was so much Velvet Underground playing that I could swear I'd been transported onto the set of 'The Royal Tenenbaums, part Deux'.

I do believe I've found a permanent breakfast stop.

Moving In.

I've moved. I now live in a nice, cozy studio in downtown Portland. I'll get my new address out to you all via private channels, as soon as I find the piece of paper I wrote it on. ;)

Time is of the essence.

I'm dying. I can only use the internet for one hour a day at the local library. That's barely enough time to check my e-mail, let alone respond to it. I really have to get a connection again. Still, the lack of net time really has increased my daily productivity in other areas... Perhaps I should limit myself to two hours online a day when I do get my connection, excluding things like checking movie times and what-not. Hm. Or not. God, this is killing me.

Doubtless.

At only two time in my life have I felt completely confident that I was moving in the right direction. This month has proved to be the third such occasion. Portland is good, as places go, but it is not Portland that is making me happy. The fact that I am making net gains on the life front, and that I am doing so on my own terms, that gives me the most happiness. Gone is the sense of constant, directionless seeking which has plagued me so often in the past. For the first time in ten years I know beyond a shadow of a doubt where I am going and what I want from my life. That, more than anything else, is what makes me happy.

Regardless of the consequences of my actions, I have made the right decision in coming here.

( Oh, and yes, piotr. I intend to hit sasquatch. I'll let you know for sure when I have tix. )

New Blog.

I'm starting up a new blog, on the subject of psychology, neurology and the human mind, in case anyone is interested. Yes, another blog.

Raining?

Yeah. It's not so much raining here as "winding, with water". I've been wandering around all day, looking at apartments. I'm soaked to the core right now, and I'm freezing. This is not my idea of fun. But then again... I haven't had to answer to anyone at all for over a week, which is nice.

36 hours without sleep.

About thirty six hours after getting on the plane in Oahu, I finally caught eight hours of sleep. That's the first REM I've had. For about twelve hours, everything was totally surreal...

I have a good friend named Ben Kirchner who drove up from Sacramento to hang out for a bit. I haven't seen him in a little over four years now. He knows people here, and gave me a map with some information about different hotspots of Portland. Kirch is also recently separated from the Air Force, just like myself. He's been out for about eight months. He's driven from Virginia to Maine, then over to California and up to Oregon. He left this morning and is headed back East to Vermont. Some road trip, huh?

Anyway, after saying goodbye to Kirch last night, I hopped a metro train downtown which I thought was heading back to my hotel. It was about nine pm, I hadn't slept in ages and I was becoming unreasonably paranoid about everything around me. At a certain point, I realized that I was on the wrong train. I got off to switch trains, and was greeted by about a half dozen "transit cops", checking people's tickets. I had mine, but several other people got traffic tickets for riding without paying. I saw several people who were about to get off the train slink back toward the back of the train to avoid getting caught.

So, I switched trains and got onto the right one. This was when things started to get really weird. I was already feeling creeped out by this point. Then the train I was on shuddered to an unnatural stop. The lights went out and someone cursed. Traffic had stopped too, and someone said that the train had hit something. All of the passengers waited for about fifteen minutes, trapped on board, then we were finally let off. The train had T-boned a minivan at an intersection. The van was wrapped around the front of the train like something out of a cartoon. And now it was time to walk.

I headed down the street alongside the tracks and into downtown. A multi-colored car was driving in circles around the block playing music. The driver was a clown. I wondered if I was seeing things. As I continued to walk, I passed the main square downtown. A large crowd was gathered. In the square was an enormous crowd, like a huge mosh pit, dancing to music. Then I got closer. They weren't dancing, really. They were fighting. With pillows. Probably a hundred and fifty people were hitting each other with pillows. Interesting.

Eventually, I got a cup of coffee and then found my way home. I couldn't sleep for a few hours after that, so I listened to the Ramones first album a couple of times, and then finally dozed off at about midnight. An interesting first day in Portland.

Hello, Portland.

I arrived in Portland at about 0830 this morning, after a lovely ten hour layover in Los Angeles. On the plus side, I got to sample a double-double from In n'Out Burger for the first time in four years or so. It's 52 degrees out and I have three smokes left in my pocket before I quit. It's one PM and I still haven't been to sleep.

I know some of you will be disappointed to hear that I checked into a hotel this morning. I don't have the cash on hand to do it again, so it's do or die from this point forward.

The Portland transit system is awesome. Four bucks gets you anywhere all day long. The best thing I've seen here so far is the public library. It's beautiful. Three stories tall. Amazingly well organized. Internet notification systems for everything. Of course, I need a permanent address before I can get a library card, but that's ok. Based on what I saw in the cognitive psychology section of the card catalog, people actually read here. *sigh*. I'm in heaven.

Time to find food.