Rendered Speechless

Amanda Palmer played at Berbati's Pan last night. Since I still haven't forgotten the occasion on which Los Amigos Invisibles started their show right on time with nary an opening act, I made sure to show up as close to 9:30 p.m. as I could. Shit, I even drove.

So naturally, there were opening acts. The first was a rather twee-sounding five-piece from, I'm guessing, Seattle. They sounded lovely & all, but I think my problem with them is aptly summed up with my reaction to the girl singer - I found her Feist-ish & irritatingly adorable. Like, she was really cute, but looked kinda like she sweats tea & has a ruffled bedskirt. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but Amanda Palmer could have made that girl crumple just by looking at her. Also, I always get a little pissy when all the people playing instruments are dudes, & the chick is just up there singing. You probably wouldn't snap in half if you picked up a guitar, sweetie. Or hell, a tambourine. An odd choice of band. I didn't catch their name, unfortunately.

After they were finished, I went off to the smoking area of Berbati's Pan. While I was standing there, Amanda Palmer came out of the bathroom! We had a weird moment! She walked in my general direction & then looked at me & we locked eyes. I felt like she expected me to say something, but literally the only things I could think of were "I love you" & "You're shorter than I would have guessed". Both of which seemed completely inappropriate in totally different ways, so I managed to choke them back & limit myself to a sort of half-smile. Probably the same one that shows up on my Oregon driver's license, making me look retarded. AWESOME.

I thoroughly enjoyed the next act, Estradasphere. You haven't lived until you've heard Slash's guitar solo from "Sweet Child O' Mine" on the violin, let me tell you. They're actually really awesome, but this was probably the funniest thing that happened all night:


(Okay, so that's not the performance from last night, but close enough. I saw the video & the accordion player's "sign language" interpretation.)

They stayed on stage to accompany Palmer's set. What can I say? She really is fabulous. Last night she was wearing a lovely mocha-colored coat dress, the bottom half unbuttoned, & worn striped stockings with a black garter belt & black rufflebutt panties. (For the encore she lost the coat dress & added a Black Sabbath t-shirt.) Apparently, she's recording a solo album with, *cough*, Ben Folds (I'm trying to not hold it against you, darlin'), but she's also up in Seattle recording some stuff for it with Estradasphere. It's not a tour - as she said at one point, they'd been on tour for a whole eight hours. I'm pretty sure it's just 'cause she likes Portland. She hinted vaguely at it when she said, "This city is fucking awesome." The show overall was delightfully disorganized. She did a couple of Brecht covers (I've always liked Brecht a great deal - it's Brechtianism I tend to find overly pedantic & dull). She also played the astronaut song that she played almost exactly a year ago at the Crystal Ballroom, & it made me cry again. I know. So weird. Turns out that she had actually written the song the day of the Crystal Ballroom show.


(Again, not the performance from last night.)

Also, they did a cover of a Madonna song (one from the first album, can't remember the name), & she got down off the stage & touched my arm! I think Amanda Palmer is in love with me. Imagine the possibilities. We could run off together & play My Little Ponys & shop for garter belts & stockings. It would be fierce. It would be girly.

It would be beautiful.

April, Er, tiegkopf88, Published Photographer

So this thing called "Schmap" requested permission to use two of my photos for their 4th edition Portland guide...you can see the pics here & here (check the upper right hand corner after clicking on each link).

Sure, I didn't get paid, the pictures are tiny (though if you click on them they take you to my Flickr page) & even though I asked them to credit me using my real name, they used my oh-so-clever webonym...

But still! Somebody who isn't me & doesn't know me thought my pictures were useful/pretty enough to use on a website for a travel guide! I'm happy as a clam. Today, much like the past few days, has been a huge roller coaster of awesome highs & sucky lows, particularly for someone who's become accustomed to riding the Ferris Wheel of life.

True to form, I'm both pleased & annoyed with this change; but this one here is a good thing.

Oh My God, Little Blobs Of Moisture Are Falling From The Sky!

For serious, people. YOU LIVE IN OREGON. How can you possibly FREAK OUT & drive like MORONS every time it rains?!?!?!


(The 7.9 is on a 0 to 10 scale, with 10 being super-jammed. On the website, it's a little scale going from green to red. The 16 MPH is on the only real interstate in Oregon (no, I-84 doesn't really count, unless you're going to Idaho), I-5.)

Guess it's "Alternate Route" drive time for me!

I'm Not There

There is a lovely, lovely long article in the NYT Magazine's 7 October edition on Todd Haynes & his new film, called "This is Not a Bob Dylan Movie". Rather informative. Admittedly, I'm not exactly a Bob Dylan fan, but I'm not a hater either; I simply have had neither occasion nor impetus to seek his work out. All right, it is true that his voice kinda bugs me; but if somebody sat me down & said "You must listen to this", I most likely would.

Todd Haynes, however, is simply the greatest living American narrative filmmaker. End of sentence period. (Although it does bear mention that he is also the most truly avant garde narrative filmmaker in the U.S. - but this digression belongs in a worthier setting than I can provide at the moment.) So yes, I will be going to see I'm Not There on opening night. I will fork over my $10 or however much an evening show at a first-run theater costs nowadays.

Read the article. But really, if images such as these two do not foster immediate infatuation with this film's potential, then...well, I don't know. I don't have anything to say to you.

The Love of My Life...

...is playing a solo show in Portland on 28 October at Berbati's Pan!


*Sigh*. My excitement is, um, palpable. I *heart* Amanda Palmer. She is a Fabulous Rock Star.

Negate Buyer's Remorse; Or, Suck It Up Like The Wanton Consumer You Are, Bitch

I really, really love Alasdair Gray. He may well be my favorite author. Every time I'm at a bookstore, any bookstore, I make a beeline for "Literature - G". Because you never know what you're going to find. Once I found a copy of a book called Mavis Belfrage, which I'd never even heard of before. I get dizzy trying to keep up with Mr. Gray, so by & large I leave internet scouring to others. Because when I do indulge in minor investigations, I tend to find things like gorgeous signed lithographs that cost $800. Or I remember that there are approximately 8 million titles by him, & I'll never get them all.

Anyway, so I went to Powell's on Hawthorne last night to buy a book - specifically to purchase The Cinema of Todd Haynes: All That Heaven Allows, edited by James Morrison, to keep me sated until the 21 November opening of I'm Not There. And of course, after I found it, I went to "Literature - G". Then I went to the Powell's computer. And they still had it...

...The hardcover first U.S. edition of Lanark: A Life in Four Books. *Sigh*. Look at how beautiful it is:


Of course, it's not the actual first U.S. edition. No, that honor was bestowed upon a trade paperback released in 1981 (the year the novel was first published across the puddle). I don't have time to investigate the vagaries of why it was published in paperback first, & why it was then published in hardcover, so for me it must remain one of life's mysteries. I suspect perhaps the publisher of the first was a larger, more corporate entity than George Braziller, the hardcover publisher.

But by now you must realize that the reason I have gorgeous pictures of this amazing book is because, yes, dear reader, I purchased that 1985 hardcover U.S. first edition. The problem is, I paid so much for it, it makes me a little sick:


Ha! Don't I wish! Sorry, sorry. If I'd been hip to the Gray back when I was seven years old I coulda had it for that price. Things are a little different now:


And yes, I thoroughly wash & dry my hands before touching this book.

So the problem is, that's almost twice as much as I've ever paid for a single book. EVER. And, um, although I wouldn't go so far as to say that I regret the purchase, I am questioning its wisdom. I'm not a book snob by any means, mostly because it's cost-prohibitive & I have other overriding interests. But my adoration of Alasdair Gray is beyond comprehension or reason. And I confess I wanted it. Powell's has had it for quite some time. Every time I went to that computer & looked Gray up, I saw it & I suspected that one day, some day, I would break down & buy it if somebody else hadn't beat me to it. It's absolutely pristine, too.

I don't know. I don't want to return it. But I feel like it wasn't exactly a decision I should have made. The only thing worse than having bought it is thinking about having bought it. I need to suck it up, keep it & DEAL.

Because I love it.

Besides, now I only have one super-expensive book left on my "want" list (for now!): Etienne Bonnot de Condillac's Treatise on the Sensations. It's fabulous, really - a philosophical text exploring the nature of "vision" in which Condillac imagines a statue which is imbued with each of the five senses, one at a time, & concludes that it is the sense of touch which truly allows us to fancy that we perceive a world outside the self. One day I will be able to pay $150 for it.

Sustainable Dildos

It's shocking, isn't it, that Portland is the home of online retailer Earth Erotics, the self-proclaimed "natural food store of adult boutiques"?

And that the fetish section has a subcategory labeled "Eco-Spanking"? Heh.

But my favorite thing is that their environmentally friendly, green sex toys are SO FRIGGIN' CUTE. It's like X-rated Cute Overload! Look at Patchy Paul II here:



I'll admit that some of them are a little too cutesy for me to imagine actually trying to use them. But still, overall, I must confess that I think some of them are really awesome. Including Patchy Paul II.

Also, the whole concept kind of makes a lot of sense, really - the FDA doesn't regulate stuff like this at all, so unless it says on the package, you've got no way of knowing what it's made of. And just think where you're putting it! PVC is the most popular material for mainstream manufacturers, but according to the Willamette Week, "For use in sex toys, PVC has to be softened with chemicals called phthalates, which the European Union has already banned from children’s toys. Phthalates have been linked to a laundry list of health problems, from obesity to kidney disease to abnormal estrogen production and prenatal genital development". Sheesh.

I think I'll go green.

I Love The Laurelhurst

It is one of the joys of my life that the Laurelhurst Theater is a five-minute walk from my apartment.

$9 at any other movie theater might, just might, cover the price of admission.

$9 at the Laurelhurst buys me admission and a pitcher of PBR.

Plus an audience that gets as rowdy as I apparently do after drinking some beer. An audience that cheers when good things happen. An audience that will (thankfully) laugh rather than shush me when I get saucy & yell "Damn straight, fuckwad!" at the screen. An audience that, as both my friends ChrisAnn & Heather have pointed out, is a lot like us. It's disconcerting, to be sure, but you know what? It's also fun. Because this audience knows exactly when Johnny Castle walks up to the Housemans' table & says "Nobody puts Baby in the corner", & you know that they know it because you all say it as it happens. And erupt in shouts & applause.


Anyway, go see The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters. It's really fun. What's it about? The world of competitive "Donkey Kong". Billy vs. Steve, & only one is the fuckwad of note. Go see it at the Laurelhurst if you can; if not, rent it when it comes out on video. I recommend getting some beer & some people who are like you, & will cheer when good things happen, & don't mind so much when you hurl obscenities at the bad guy.

And this weekend, they're showing Peter Jackson's Dead Alive! I will be there. If you've not seen it, it's...wonderful. I rented it as a teenager in Scio thinking it was going to be "scary". Ha!

This Will Be The Best...Pizza...Ever. EVER.

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(not what pizza will actually look like, obvs)

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(not what attendees will actually look like, obvs)

The Maintenance of the Humanoid is Not Cost-Effective

Recently I decided I was going to start taking care of myself, & fuck the cost. By which I mostly mean I decided I was going to go to the dentist & get new glasses. Also get my Oregon driver license. Hey, it's only been a year, right?

So this morning I went to get the license. The secret to the DMV is getting there five minutes before they open. I was #2 in line. To get an ODL, you have to take a written exam (I know, so stupid!). Last night I read the novel-length driver manual to prepare. And I learned some interesting things, actually. The two most relevant ones are:

1) Basically, it is illegal to make a U-turn in Oregon unless there is a sign expressly permitting it. I'm confounded.
2) There are invisible crosswalks! They stretch between the sidewalks at any intersection. Also, there is no such thing as jaywalking in Oregon. The manual just says that if you are
crossing at neither a marked nor unmarked crosswalk, you (the pedestrian) must yield the right of way to oncoming vehicles.

I got a 98%. I also registered to vote. And just made the deadline, since Oregon is a mail ballot-only state. This makes me happy, because as somebody who has no interest in "getting involved" & no discernible political bent beyond the pursuit of my happiness, I always figure that I have an obligation to inform myself of the issues/candidates & vote. As in, it's the least I can do. It marks my contribution to society.

So my (first) dentist appointment was at 11:30. It involved X-rays & a detailed discussion of what needs to happen inside my mouth. Did I ever mention that my least favorite sound in the whole world is the sound of metal scraping against teeth? Apparently, for not having been to the dentist in a long long long time (I'm not telling how long, that's how long) my teeth are in GREAT shape.

And are only going to cost $1,700 to fix.

What? I'm sorry. What? Granted, having the mythical dental insurance beast ensnared means that (hopefully) only about $700 of that is coming out of my pocket. But still. What? And I have to go in twice. My dentist wanted me to make THREE appointments. But I put my foot down on that one. So now in a couple of weeks I go in for my cleaning & to get fillings on the left side, which in keeping with traditional folklore connotations, is the evil side of my mouth. Then a week after that, I get to go in for the fillings on the right side &...bonus!...the extraction of my wisdom teeth. Yessss. Although it seems I have no wisdom teeth in the bottom of my mouth, which strikes me as odd. I've no recollection of ever having them removed. Oh well. (EDIT: After calling my mother last night to bitch about the $700, she not only stole my righteous indignation by telling me that she, my father, & both brothers have each spent WAY MORE at the dentist for things like that, she also told me that I never had any wisdom teeth removed. So apparently I'm just a toothy freak of nature.)

What gets me is, my out-of-pocket cost to get two whole friggin' teeth removed (they call them "erupted teeth" on my cost estimate, which I find disturbing) is $52. Today's X-rays were free. The cleaning is free. Which means that putting crap in my teeth is going to cost...$648? I cry foul.

The "exciting" appointment is my vision exam, which is next week. Look at the place I picked! I picked it for that logo. And its proximity to my apartment. Also, I'd read some good reviews about their frame selection. Which is important, because I've decided that now, for the first time EVER in the history of April, I am going to get whichever frames I want. Not the free ones, unless they're stunning. No insurance discounts considered. I am going in there & I am not looking at the price tag of any pair & I am picking the ones that I like the very best of all. Also, I recently realized that I actually love wearing glasses. So I should love the frames too.

So really, even though spending over $1,000 on myself doesn't thrill me, & the thought of having teeth extracted doesn't either, I feel really, really happy & pleased to actually be taking care of myself. For a change.

The Fruit of Hot Celebrity Loins Is Also Hot

So, when I found out that Rashida Jones is the offspring of Quincy Jones & Peggy Lipton (thanks, Mandy!), it reminded me of something I discovered a couple of years ago, then forgot, then rediscovered a few weeks ago.

Which is, Zoe Kravitz is smokin'. OMG. Then again, how could the progeny of Lisa Bonet & Lenny Kravitz NOT be hot? No matter what you think of them, they are two beautiful people.

These pictures are how I first encountered her, at (I think) the age of 17:


Hot & naughty & underage. With a 40 of OE, even. *Sigh*. I was totally sold.

And here are some recent, newly legal (she's 19 in December, folks!), slightly more professional I-am-a-starlet shots:



I have a newfound respect for Lenny Kravitz. Possibly, I would consider having his babies, not because I particularly like him or anything, but because there's at least a 50 to 75 percent chance they would be fucking gorgeous. And maybe I could become the mommy type if I had a fucking gorgeous baby.

Narrative: Renting An Apartment In Portland

Per the Oregonian's story on renting in Portland, Oregon:

"Inner Northeast and Southeast are popular with young professionals because they're more affordable than the west side, yet close enough to make commutes downtown to work and the nightlife easy. But inner and central Southeast Portland have the lowest open rentals percentage: just 1.6 percent of units available [emphasis added]. That's a 21 percent decrease from 2006 and a nearly 75 percent decrease from 2005."

This explains why I had such a hard time finding a place to rent last fall! I just thought that late autumn had to be a tough time to find good affordable apartments. It really is crazy out here, though. I was so excited to go apartment-hunting when I got out here, because I'd never looked for my own place before (looong story), & it was NOT FUN. At all. Even a little bit. Because things go so fucking fast.

My "favorite" was the one-bedroom in Belmont (I walk past that building all the time actually). I called about 40 minutes after the ad went up on Craigslist. The woman said she'd already had 10 calls. I made an appointment for 90 minutes later, & by the time I'd parked my car (I had to leave work in the middle of the day. From Lake Oswego, mind), she'd left a voicemail saying the apartment was rented! Granted, the monthly damage was only $550, which is super-cheap for my neighborhood. But things really do go almost that fast.

This is what worked well for me in my search (I hesitate to call it "advice", but I guess it is):

1) Do whatever you can to be the very first person to see an available space. Apartments seem to work on a "dibs" basis. If you are the first person to get your application in, as long as they think your credit's okay, it's yours. I got my apartment because I checked the Willamette Week's online ads before the print edition came out. By the time it did, & people started calling my landlord, he had already rented it. To me. Oh, by the way, you will probably not find an apartment unless you have already moved here & can look at it in person. Because there are already 12 million people in Portland whom a landlord can physically meet who want to rent that space. Why should they bother with someone who lives 2,000 miles away, even if you are the nicest most perfect tenant ever?
2) You will probably find your apartment on Craigslist. It has the most & best listings, but you will have to keep the page open all day & refresh no less than every 30 minutes. I was the first person to look at three places using this method. Every place save one that I looked at was on Craiglist. BUT, it is definitely worth it to keep an eye on the Willamette Week & Portland Mercury websites. For some reason my landlord only listed in Willamette Week. Bless him.
3) Expect to fork over some dough for credit checks. This will depend on how your hunt goes. Me? I spent about $100 on 3 credit checks for potential apartments. The first one didn't like my credit. The second was the place I almost took, until I found the third place. (I also paid a credit check fee for a fourth place, because I wanted to think about the fourth vs. the third, & the property manager said they'd hold it & refund if I decided not to move forward. Which they kindly did.)
4) Be overly honest & give too much detail about your credit (if it isn't perfect). The first landlord asked, & all I said was that it was "not perfect, but not terrible". He rejected me. (Which worked out for the complete best for me, for the record.) Lesson learned! For the next three apartments I gave an exquisitely detailed narrative of my credit. Before they did the check. I said, "This is exactly what you are going to find." Then I told them why they would find it there (making it sound as nice as possible, of course). I threw in some personal information. I was not above mentioning my most recent living situation & its possible effect on my report. I even said that I didn't understand why so much importance was placed on letter-perfect credit. After all, what's the very first thing you're going to pay every month? RENT. And every one of the three offered me the space.
5) Have patience (if you're fortunate enough to have that luxury). I started looking for an apartment immediately after my arrival, in the beginning of October. I didn't find the perfect space for five weeks. And when I did find it, I couldn't move in for another three weeks. Which was really hard. But now? I'm totally in love with my apartment. With my neighborhood. It's perfect. Then again, I hate moving, so crashing in my friend's dining room in Wilsonville for two months was worth it to me.

Because I'm not moving again until I buy a house. And in this market, that's not likely to happen for a while.