THE URBAN SURREALIST

I ate something I shouldn't have when I was just a tidbit. Now I'm fully on to the next scent. Disturbed by the thing I ate, I became a hoarder of empty places. I now have six of them, each slightly less empty. I let everyone get in front of me in line, it keeps me waiting. I am there now, reading the list of things. I have my own cup in front of me. It keeps me company when I don't need it. If you want my advice, take it. I've swallowed many lesser things and it has done me little harm. But the thing is, a little harm goes a long way. It becomes much bigger the more you think of it. Tiresome... If you have a cat you should know a few things. Otherwise I hope you know it all, like the dog you are. I have little trust in the end of things, it's all in the beginning. The middle is just a plate of things connecting the first with the last. So what shall I have? I can't recommend the lamb. The fox had him for lunch. After dinner I'd suggest a walk in the wood with the spiders. Very good company, as they tend to know all the hard equations. I'm not a numbers person, really more of a symbolist. When to start is always the important thing. So I have to say, the entry is the way to a place. But even better is waiting until hunger turns to a scent of flowers. Then you have won. See you in line...

The Critical Crow Corner

I've been asked to provide some critical on-the-ground analysis of the urban landscape - sort of a crow's eye view you might say. Well, let me clear the air by saying "Caw! Caw!" because that's what's expected of me right? Might as well admit it - YOU ALL HATE CROWS! So get this straight right now: YOU DON'T KNOW ME! I have no issues with humans as a race, it's just that most of you are - how shall I say... dumb as sparrows. Look, I'll try to be fair and honest because I'm just that kind of bird, but if you ruffle my feathers I WILL TRACK YOU TO A DOWNED ELECTRICAL CABLE AND WATCH YOU BURN! OK, that was a bit harsh. Sorry. I had to review some poetry today and I'm not at my best. It was one of those skinny little volumes about the virtues of the natural world, including the sickening anthropomorphism of a woodchuck. I gagged on a worm and it put me in a dark mood. Don't send me any poetry, especially if you're an insipid nature lover. I don't care if you want to save me, just leave me a scone (walnut is good) and some strong coffee, black.

Portlandiand.

It is funny living here, and sometimes it is even funnier than it really is - especially when PORTLANDIA shoots an episode satirising food-carts, right across the street from a bunch of actual food-carts. Watching hipsters watching the fake food-cart scene featuring hipster actors recreating a scene was confusing, even to passing dogs. At one point, a hip couple explained to a visiting couple from Japan that the show was a satire of all things we hold dear in Portland, but that it was "just not that funny..." As the afternoon grew long we retired to the Interurban Bar a block away and imbibed some cocktails before our evening stroll to the grocery store to watch a live band perform in the produce isle. Leaning up against some chilled beets with a white wine, it occured to me that all that artifice to film a hit TV show was a waste of time and effort. Just strap a mini-cam around my neck and let it roll.

Forty years ago tonight, my friends and I watched this band of heathens from the UK perform on a hot humid night in Akron Ohio. Tomorrow is the Fiftieth anniversary of their first ever performance at a cinema on Oxford Street. God bless you Rolling Stones, may you live a bit longer on this earth and forever in our warm and happy memory.

Checked out this Portland bar today: DIG A PONY. Used to be a drug store back in the day when codeine was ubiquitous. (Monkey! put down the syrup) Well now it's a bar you can ride a bike into 'cause it's that big. I had this drink made of ginger infused vodka, ginger beer and, I think, ginger. It was a gingery thing of beauty. Only problem is, they didn't play any good music. As John Lennon sings, for no good reason: "You can syndicate any boat you row, yes you can syndicate any boat you row, I told you so! All I want is you, everything has got to be just like you want it to. Because"

Monkey Seeks Party.

Hello! I passed out back in 2011 but I'm feeling much better now. Last thing I remember was going to a happy hour in Honduras, a place called the Kabbala. I guess they got my order wrong, because instead of a virgin and a pina colada, I got escorted to the back alley and ended up inhaling police car exhaust fumes. I'm pretty sure they don't use unleaded down there because I still have a headache. So, I guess it's 2012 now. What the hell happened? Ted Nugent is hanging out with Mormons? I'm confused. Those guys wear underwear. Two of them came to my front door once and I threw snakes at them and they ran away. If those guys can run for president so can I. I've been told I need a party, which usually isn't a problem, but since I passed out I haven't had much of a social life. Can anyone help me out? PLEASE! Any party will do. I need to find one quick so I can get started with my champagne, uh wait... what is it? Oh yes, Campaign! Sorry. I also need a running mate, which is weird because I prefer to be single.

Bluebird of Portland

Portrait of Bluebird for Genie. They are mean.