counterclockwise: We're in the Brother's Room, in the mansion, with the key, holdin it down, yeah, we're invited...

Portland has been an unexpected "getaway" spot, and had it been expected, I might have better prepared myself.

What I've gotten used to is the introduction, the hyper-stylized conversation where we meet and angle our way into each other's lives like time is on the loose. Funny MO when you find yourself in a big, empty, climate-controlled house with a hot tub, trampoline, and two sweet pitbulls for a week. Leanne and I have been living off of food-bank garbage and bike rides on our borrowed Peugeot road and BMX bikes. Luckily we've made a few good friends outside of this house, or else we might bore ourselves to death with the internet and scattered Kerouac and motorcycle books about the place. It's a beautiful thing to watch Leanne read "Dharma Bums" and look up every once in a while and cite the parallels to our adventure. Skagit County, gondolas, sharing wine with common folks. Nothing pivotal, it's just the fabric.

We made friends with the 20th and Alberta crowd, this collection of ramblers who sit on the sidewalk and bullshit all day. This man Shorty has me remembering all those old men I've met on the sidewalk in the past who carry their wisdom on their sleeve. Like this man I once met on Venice Beach who had carved a giant sand mermaid with his one-inch pinky nail. His mouth was rotten but his soul was so firmly intact inside that decrepit body, and he spoke of his death as if it were tomorrow, welcoming it with every sip of vodka. I think of Venice Beach, I think of that bohemia it's been depicted as in words and pictures, I think of bohemia and it's appeal versus it's reality. Terminology charmed commodity. It's more of an elated feeling of sinking. Shorty, though, he's hell-bent on his room in the world as an angel, a man, and a philosopher of astrological persuasion. Drunk like a fox.

We're taking a ride on Monday to Northern California, on which we'll be stopping in Ashland, Oregon on the tip of free chocolate and nut butters. It's getting cold in Portland and I'm ready to go South.

Dog Walkin'