beautiful, funny, sad & true

This morning I had a beautiful and strange dream, which, I suppose is par for the course for me.

* * * * *

I’m driving through the English countryside in a sort of race, but it isn’t really a race so much as an homage to a Victorian writer who packed all of her belongings into a smallish buggy and traveled around England with her cat, Imogen. There are about twenty of us, each following her route across England. Some are taking this as a fun little trip, and others are trying to actually mirror her trip as closely as possible, dressing in Victorian-era clothing. There are even two buggies that are replicas of hers, which are quite impressive to the group, as you can imagine. Two or three people, myself included, bring a cat with them on the trip. I have a small cat the color of cafe au lait, whose name is also Imogen. She rides (mostly sleeps) in her cat bed, which is on the passenger seat of my red Honda, which they allow me to use in England even though it’s left-hand drive. Isn’t that nice of them?

The group is traveling sort of together and sort of separately. We’re not in a caravan, but we meet up at various points along the route to eat and talk, and at those times, the two buggy owners will take the participants for rides. All of the participants are either married couples or single people. There are no tour buses or large groups on this trip. I suspect it has something to do with the writer herself, a solitary but free-spirited person whose writing inspires wanderlust in her readers, as she encourages them to shake up their lives and not to be lulled into the trance of everyday living. She was far ahead of her time, and all of us who are on the trip feel a very close kinship both for her and for each other, despite the fact that none of us had met prior to this.

In the middle of the afternoon, we arrive at the main stopping point along the way, a large and grassy park near the ocean, with tall, leafy trees scattered plentifully throughout. The buggies are polished and gleaming, and the people who dressed in period clothing are out in all of their Victorian finery, laughing and talking near the buggies. One man is wearing a monocle and a pocket watch, and another man is wearing an elegant black suit, and his wife is wearing a long, white dress. Another woman shades herself underneath a parasol. There are about ten or twelve people wearing antique clothes, some of whom changed into them only for this part of the trip. I am wearing modern attire, jeans and a button-up shirt, with a gray, European-style suit jacket over the top.

My mom is at the park, volunteering, serving food and refreshments for the participants, but she is unfamiliar with the writer in question. She loves to volunteer for things, and she knew that I would be a part of this event, so she signed up. She walks over to one of the buggies, runs an admiring hand along its side, and makes a somewhat nonsensical comment about how ‘compactly’ people used to live back then, which makes a few of the people around her chuckle. The buggy’s owner is standing next to it, and she asks him to tell her a little bit about this writer. I pick up Imogen the cat, climb into the front seat of the beautifully restored buggy, and place her on the seat beside me. She sits in the sun and purrs, clearly enjoying herself.

* * * * *

This was one of those dreams that was very beautiful to experience, but when I tried to write it down, I found that I had a hard time capturing its mood at first. I laughed just now as I re-read the first sentence; it’s just so strange and funny. Each of the individual words is completely normal, but there’s something about the way they are strung together into that particular sentence that is instantly both surreal and hilarious. A moment like that is why I think it’s so much fun to write out dreams and share them. It pitches you right out of reality in a very satisfying way.

The trip to Cannon Beach was nice, and relaxing.

Drove JBJ over there with me, since his wife and kids were in Astoria already.  We had a blast, talking and listening to the CD compilation he had just finished making.  We got almost to Seaside, and he called his wife to let her know where he was.  She said, “Turn around; we’re going to Cannon Beach.”  So we did.  We all met at Cranky Sue’s Furiously Good Food To Improve Your Mood. With a name like that, how could it not be good?  Turned out to be VERY good, in fact.

Afterwards, we went our separate ways, and I met Stepdad at the beach house that we had rented.  I unloaded my car and the two of us walked down to the beach to meet up with Mom, Brother, SisterInLaw, Niece and Nephew.   Brother and Niece and I attempted to fly Brother’s kite, but it’s one of those little stunt kites that tends to nose-dive often, and on one of its nose-dives, the nylon ripped at the tip from the force of the crash.  He put it on sabbatical for a while, until he can figure out how to fix it.  I’m not gonna lie; those kites make me nervous.

I didn’t get any really good pictures this trip.  The weather was cold and foggy, and there were even thunderstorms on Sunday.  It was a good trip, it’s just that for some reason I’m having a hard time thinking of what to share about it.  We made a bonfire, walked the beach, walked to town, drank a lot of coffee, made some really good food, lost my keys and spent an hour tearing apart the house looking for them, walked the beach some more, took lots of pictures of Haystack Rock in the fog. . .I even took a page from Andrea’s book and shot a couple of quick videos, but they’re too big to upload, so I need to figure out how to compress them a bit.  Again, I apologize; I don’t know why I’m having a tough time writing about the trip, but I am.  It was nice, and relaxing, and that’s what’s important.

I had to get back to Portland at a reasonable hour on Sunday to meet a couple of friends and see the play Mimesophobia.  It was a dense and brilliant mystery, both in the way the story was told, and in the way that the play was staged.  The theater was very long and narrow, with seating for about twenty people.  There were video screens on either wall, and every few feet there was a small speaker.  It was as if we were watching a film.  The actors could whisper into their little wireless microphones and we could hear them perfectly.  There were a couple of characters who would shut off their microphones and speak to each other normally.  It was a murder mystery, only it was told via film clips (which were described to us by two ‘film-maker’ characters, who were writing a film based on the murder, Charlie Rose interviews with a person who was closely intertwined in the story, messages that were left on answering machines, people portraying the actual participants in the various events. . .it was a lot of information to take in, but it was absolutely brilliant.

Last night, J and I watched the movie Private Eyes, which I had seen many times before, but not since I was a little kid.  I was hesitant to rent it, because I had a feeling that it wouldn’t stand up very well over time, but my brother had seen it recently, and he enjoyed it, so we decided to take our chances.  I like my comedy a good bit darker these days, but it was still fun and entertaining.

This week is about to get crazy.  I found out yesterday that IrishBand has a late gig tonight, tomorrow night is the play-reading group, in which we’re reading the script for My Dinner With Andre.  Thursday night is a small Breanna gig, Friday night is a big Breanna gig, Saturday is IrishBandSinger’s birthday party at a 3 Leg Torso show, Sunday is a daytime ‘play’ consisting of a lot of personal narratives that we listen to in headphones.  It sounds a bit like This American Life, only the audience is involved somehow, by adding their own stories, and interacting at various times.  Can’t wait.

Today I drove a work friend to the hospital for some asthma-related breathing problems she’s been having.   She went in yesterday, apparently, and she felt the same thing coming on today, so she asked me to take her in.  Back at work, I’ve been involved in some very heavy, emotional, interesting and surprising conversations, that I think should remain private, other than to say that a small part of one of them involved pedophiles and what happens to them when they find themselves in prison.  Definitely not the type of conversations you expect to have when you wake up in the morning.  I have a feeling that’s what’s making me feel so pensive and odd today.

Speaking of which, I need to get back, actually.  I’m home writing this on my lunch break, and now it’s time to leave you.

Yesterday after work, my friend Blaine came to meet me at my place, where we switched to my car and drove to Seaside to meet Chris and Nicole, who live in GoldenGateCity. You remember them, they got married this last spring. Anyway, they were up in Seaside (Oregon, that is; there’s a Seaside in GoldenState also) for the entire week. They stopped in to see me at my place on their way up, and I recruited Blaine to join me when I went over to visit them last night. We had a blast listening to a funny CD we made about a million years ago, and laughing like hyenas the entire way.

It was sunny and ninety degrees when we left Portland, but when we arrived at the coast it was cold and fairly crappy. This is the norm on the Oregon coast, and I’ve learned to be prepared with a hoodie or something, no matter what time of year it is.

The terrible picture is from my phone, by the way. There’s a huge amateur volleyball tournament happening this weekend (Sarah in NYC? You gonna be there?), so there are nets everywhere on the beach, as well as a smallish stage. We met Chris and Nicole and went to sushi at a pretty decent Japanese restaurant called Tora. After that, we headed back to their time-share, which is the same one that Chris’s parents and siblings (and siblings’ kids) were staying in, so we went to their parents’ place to say hello to everyone.

We all talked and laughed, and at around 10:00, Blaine and I drove the hour and a half back to Portland. Again, we had a great time talking and laughing, but the drive was more difficult this time. It was foggy through the mountains, and we saw a coyote or something in the road at one point. Once we were in the city limits, around 11:45, there was a huge wreck in the opposite direction of the highway, which looked like a motorcycle was involved. There were lots of police cars, and at least one ambulance, and traffic was completely stopped.

We got home and I went in and went to bed, but Blaine still had to drive himself back to his house, which is about half an hour’s drive, in Vancouver’s NorthernSuburb. Incidentally, I’d like to give a ‘shout out’ to Blaine, who said that he reads my blog in the morning on his PDA, while sitting on the toilet. No doubt some would say that’s the only appropriate place to be while reading blogs, but as far as I’m concerned, wherever you want to read from is fine by me.

OneYearAgo

I took the day off from work today, so that I can go to my friend Dori’s wedding at the beach.  The ceremony is going to be on a cliff overlooking the ocean.  I’ll be playing accordion.  They had a bonfire last night, but I had to give it a miss because of bad planning on my part.  I hadn’t arranged a place to stay, and I’m kinda broke again this month, so I thought I’d just go over today.  I’m really looking forward to it.  It’s kinda cloudy, but it’s supposed to be nice.  Road trips are the perfect environment for Sigur Ros’s music, so that’s what I’m going to bring.  That and a few compilations that I found, but haven’t had a chance to listen to yet.  I’ll try to take some pictures, but since I’ll be playing also, no guarantees about that.

Last night I was invited to join Andrea and CellistSkip out at the Edgefield winery.  It was a nice surprise for all three of us.  It was also quite possibly Andrea’s last Portland show, so I jumped at the chance.  She’ll be moving to Europe in a little over a week.  I’m totally happy for her.

Since the highway goes right by the hospital my friend is in, I’m going to stop in and surprise her on the way out of town.

Great paté, Mom, but I’d better motor if I’m gonna get over to the hospital and the beach.  (That’s a reference to the movie “Heathers”, by the way.)  It’s my own way of saying I have to go now.  Gotta eat breakfast, take a shower, find something nice to wear, throw my accordion in the car and head out.   I’m bringing my backup accordion this time, because the wet ocean mist and breeze would ruin my good one, and my backup one is perfect for things like this.  It was an inexpensive instrument, so I don’t worry about what’s going to happen to it.  Not that I’d want it to get run over by a train or something, but I think you know what I’m saying.

Wait a minute; what am I DOING?  I have to go.  I’ll talk to you later.

I may be a little scarce around these parts for the next couple of days, ’cause it’s my Big Birthday Blowout Bash weekend, and it’s chock-full of fun stuff.

Tonight, Shelby’s taking me out, and we’re going to see DrummerDrew (of Stephanie’s band) play over at Zaytoon, then it’s off to either Pi-Rem or Maiden in the Mist. I’m thinking probably Pi-Rem.

Tomorrow involves BoringFish, then S & W and either sushi or chocolate or both, and then DrummerAdam is coming all the way down from Yakima just to help celebrate my birthday (oh yeah. . .AND he has a gig at the White Eagle).

Sunday, J and I are going to the beach for the day; probably Cannon Beach and Oswald West State Park, but we may head up to Astoria also/instead.

I’ll try to remember to take some pictures and stuff. This promises to be a great weekend.