Of the ten or twelve photo albums in my parent’s house, two got left behind during the evacuation because they weren’t with the other albums. The pages were still wet from the flood, which is why this was one of the only personal items left in the house. My mom placed it on this table in the living room to dry.
Yes, I’m going to New Orleans for the next week. I’m leaving Jeremy in charge, which probably means this site is turning into a bamboo-growing message board.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being a monk and hanging out in this beautiful library that’s a combination of the UN and the library from Wings of Desire. The spine of every book was perfectly aligned with it’s neighbor on every shelf, which is something I could have only imagined when I worked at the public library when I was in high school. I think the secret is: no kids section.
But then again, every night I’d fall asleep and have nightmares that this thing (below) would crawl out of its display case in the museum and start mewing, ‘Say my name, Sebastian!’
I finally made it out to the Mount Angel monastery, which was very lovely and surreal. It was like a cross between The Grotto and The Safari Club, but with actual monks in robes walking around. For some reason, I found the monks terrifying and I was too scared to take their pictures.
On Sunday morning, the ancient bottle of orange medical soap (I bought at Knob Hill Pharmacy the last day they were opened) fell off the bathroom shelf of ancient personal hygiene products. Despite spending an hour cleaning it up, that whole part of the house now smells EXACTLY like an old folks home. I’m shocked/repulsed at how it’s a perfect olfactory match. It’s making me want to start smoking again just so I’ll lose my sense of smell.
I went to L’Astra tonight with John and Sean and Jeremy. While getting out of the car, I noticed this sign on a light post in front of a house that said something like, ‘Mind Your Three P’s: Pick Up Your Poop, Please.’ Just at the moment when I thought it was great, a 12-year old girl comes out of the house and she shouts, ‘What’s up, home slices?’ She was eating a piece of cantaloupe and talking on the phone at the same time. Then she shouts out, ‘So are all you guys gay?’
This is from my new favorite nursery. I can’t remember where it is, except that it’s in Tualatin.
