Oh Dog, you Sleuth!

When I saw this on Saturday, I thought it was hilarious. Was it their intention to equate Mary with Godzilla? I would have taken the high road and gone the King Kong way and had Mary standing atop the buildings and swatting away the 747s.

Things I realized this weekend: that I really do love The Misfits, that everyone in Portland is into wicca, that Donna is still the strongest person ever and that Jeremy was right about my hair looking better parted from the right side as opposed to the left (shame on the rest of the world for letting this travesty go on for all these years without a single comment).

I’m not sure what this is about either, but I’ve noticed it since the summer.

Perfect (from far away)
Thanks to an improperly folded Willamette Weekly, I discovered today that Lynda Barry’s ‘Ernie Pook comeek’ are now appearing in the back of said magazine. This one I saw today was about used Halloween costumes that Marlys was selling and even mentioned Freddie. This panel reminded me of Jami.

I don’t know where Millie found this card she sent, but I want to commission this artist to do a portrait of me saying something mean and stupid from the bible.

I’ve been avoiding stealing pictures off of the internet that show Katrina damage, which I really should have done, even if just for myself because who knows how the history of this is all going to get written. There’s been so much mis-information and outright lying to the people of New Orleans. But I didn’t start this out by wanting to go on that rant. I just wanted to point out: holyfuckingshit!?!!? That big trash pile is about two blocks from my house! Two months ago it was a huge open grassy field. My friend Ricky Airhart lived in this massive house on one side of it. First time I went in that airport-sized mansion, in high school, I was like, ‘What the hell does your father do for a living?’ And he was like, ‘unnecessary surgeries.’ When I first heard about it and saw some pictures my sister sent, it was still mostly yard debris. But now it’s full of trash. There’s other places like this around town that contain massive collections of dead refrigerators.
The picture on the right, kind of speaks for itself, I guess, but it was interesting to me since it’s from the median a block away from my parent’s house.

In other hurricane related news, Jenny got a hold of Donna today in Cozumel and had this to say: (I won’t even try to paraphrase, cause she’s a lot funnier than me).

I just heard from Donna today and she is okay! It
only costs her like 15 bucks a minute so she couldn’t
call everyone. She said it was wonderful meeting
Wilma and she can’t wait to do it again, ie, love at
first torrential rain. Actually I meant she thinks
Wilma sucks wishes death to all hurricanes. She’s
been stuck in a convention center for the last 4 days
with tons of stinky people and dwindling food
supplies. Her hotel was the only one on the island
not demolished and the airport is washed away and she
won’t be able to get out until maybe Thursday. They
were ferrying people off the island but that stopped
cuz the waters are too choppy. Because of military
law, no one is selling alcohol and this worries Donna
almost as much as running out of food. They drudged
through town today in knee high water with their
alligator and snake sticks - apparently there were some
gators spotted around town that were three meters
long. So Donna’s one fear of being eaten by sharks
was retired around Friday night. Anyways, be prepared
to comfort/get shit faced with her when and if she
makes it back on Thursday. She sends everyone her
love and will have some lovely photos to share when
she comes back from her wonderful HURRICATION (not
quite a smush, but it’s a start).

The William Eggleston documentary last night was heavenly. I saw his prints in person for the first time about six or seven years ago at the Getty Museum and they made me ache they were so beautiful. That color dye transfer technique used to make those prints really demands to be seen in person, even though his work looks amazing in reproduction (you’ve probably seen it if you like Big Star or Primal Scream, since they’ve appropriated work for album covers).It was interesting to see footage of him walking around and trying to decide what to take pictures of. I’ve never worked with or been around a professional photographer and so I always imagine that guys who make money doing this are like David Hemmings snarling, pompous character in Blow Up. Though who am I kidding, I’ll sign any standard soul-release boiler plate contract to be that character.

Jeez! Does everyone realize that Wilma hit Mexico while Donna was there for her brother’s wedding?!?! What is going on with ‘canes attacking people I love? I’m starting to feel like Charles Bronson.

Shades of green from the last few weeks.

So my own personally geeky equivalent of a Lord of the Rings or a Stars Wars sequel is happening to me on Thursday night with the screening of a new documentary about my uber idol, William Eggleston. I’m literally frothing at the mouth and getting froth all over the keys as I type this. It’s at 7pm at the Guild on Thursday if you want to see it with me [the sound of crickets]. I’ll be the superfan actually dressed as William Eggleston.

So if you drive out far enough in the gorge, past the Dalles even, you hit Stonehenge. It’s an exact scale replica of the real deal, but this one’s better since it’s not all worn down. And it was made with much-easier-to-use concrete instead of giant boulders. I think Umberto Ecco would love this perfect example of “American hyper reality”.
I dragged my sister out here while she was visiting. And though there were signs in front of it pushing the lunar calendar theory, all my fears of druidic human sacrifices were confirmed by this woman in a tie-dye muumuu who asked me to take her picture with her cellphone camera.

I’m not trying to over-sentimentalize it. But this is a simulation of what my brain does when I see these new apocalyptic pictures of my parent’s house. I guess this mental back and forth game is what it must be like to be in this part of the city, which is in an advanced state of decay and awaits the bulldozers.
Most of the neighbors my parents have talked to said they are not going to rebuild. And there are rumors that the 17th Street Canal (only a few blocks away) is going to be expanded in their direction and will maybe even be where the house is now, which is an irony lost on no one. Whether this place becomes a golf course or a FEMA trailer park or an empty lot, it still hasn’t sunk in that it will be completely gone if I ever get back to see it.
Well… now that I’ve re-read this, it does seem trite and sentimental with me sitting here in Portland writing the one millionth eulogy for New Orleans. No more boo-hoo Katrina coverage. I’m going to adopt my parent’s point of view on the matter:

Endless possibilities indeed… Seen in Meterie, LA.



This is Pontchartrain Blvd, an extremely wide street which used to have a giant football-field sized median running down the middle. It’s now a big dumping ground.

If money and legality were no object to decorating my house, I’d have this bear and the taxidermied statue of the Virgin Mary from the Grotto decorating my living room. When in fact, this is the sturgeon hatchery I visited last week on Gretchen’s suggestion when I was in her shop last week.