2002-11-25 - 2:12 a.m.

Had an excellent weekend in Portland with the Roommate and my dear friend R. (from college). I mean, everything just worked.

Well, not exactly, but nothing went wrong at all, nothing. Expectations were met, or exceeded. It helped that I�m smart enough to try to limit my expectations when it comes to something big. All of you awaiting Shangri-La Christmas presents or Tir Na Og New Year�s parties should take note. End philosophy lesson.

By the way, I�m also watching TV right now. Energy-spending weekend, and I just kinda wanna chill out. I kinda miss writing entries while watching TV--they suffered a little due to the increased bandwith, but it was kinda fun to struggle against the distraction, and I guess that, as tough as it might be sometimes, writing is something of a form of entertainment.

So--I can�t promise a cease-fire on the further ado, but I will provide a laundry-list.

My dear friend R. (from college), honked the horn every time we crossed a state line. When we got to New Hamphsire, we went to the New Hampshire state liquor mart or something like that, where people brought their children, and where people pushed shopping carts about, Leaving Las Vegas style. We were there for around 20 minutes, and not five seconds went by where I didn�t hear the multiple clinks of colliding wine or liquor bottles. It was funny and sad at the same time, and I wished when I was there that I was the kind of person who could just find the whole thing amusing, but at least I found it something other than wheeling my cart back to my car, and speeding home, kid unbuckled.

Other than me being caffeine deprived and up hours earlier than I should have been, it couldn�t have been a more pleasant drive. I was thirteen or so the last time I drove with someone for hours and sat shotgun. I enjoyed the total absence of responsibility, and basked in the daylight, and the concept of watching one cloud, approaching it, for an hour, staring straight ahead, as if the (whatever the word for the glass that�s in the front of your car) thing were a movie screen, or at the very least one of those high definition, full screen televisions.

My dear friend R. amazed me with her ability to drive and drive and drive, and not get bored. She enjoyed the drive, even. It was pretty peaceful, and I was shocked every time I glanced over at her odometer, and found that she was doing 80.

We were an hour early for check-in at the Motel 6, so I suggested some Denny�s. The Roommate and I had never been. The two girls went the sensible route, but I ordered the farmer slam, which made the table space in front of me seem like the cluttered desk of a busy businessman.

And I got all that work done in less than an hour.

I actually think that that was the most food I have ever eaten in my entire life.

And it was great. We were so psyched to be at Denny�s, and we were so psyched to be in Maine.

We checked in, got a map of Portland (none of us thought of bringing one), from the really sweet front desk girl, and (I�m only realizing this now), did nothing more than look at the hotel room.

On to Portland, which is super tiny, but I didn�t know that yet, which made every turned corner infinite.

Ever see that old guy from the juicer infomercials with really bushy eyebrows, who vehemently swears that the juice from his special juicer is the lifeblood which keeps him sane?

That�s me when it comes to going someplace I haven�t been. I want to map it in my mind. I want to learn it. I want to know it. Not just directions. I want to feel its pulse.

This is half-time. I gotta tell myself that I�m writing a laundry list. I have to get working on finishing. Were I writing something on my first visit to Denny�s, I would have mentioned that as the hostess seated us, she commented on how she used to put her pen in her pocket, but that it apparently stabbed her leg repeatedly, and there was this bloody leg thing going on, and so she decided to switch to a pen in bun technique.

But I can�t do that. I gotta put down stuff so I can remember it later, and as I write these words, I�m taking away from what I can do before I get sleepy, and screwing editing flingiedo by giving that condescending bastard one paragraph more of words that could have been better placed, one paragraph more of continuity to worry about, perhaps a misspelled word, and what not.

So, without further ado--here�s the rest of the list--without commentary.

Excellent art museum, with a feature on Leonard Baskin�s woodcuts.

Terrific walk out of the city, down Forest Ave, towards the Great Lost Bear.

Hung out with Randy Research, who I think about every day. Forgot to bring the mix-CD I made him from the hotel. He brought his friend, and myself and my two traveling companions ended up talking to her more than Randy. He was uber-hushed, and that was too bad, but it didn�t stop me from making ridiculous, and at the same time, heartfelt, proclamations of love when it was just me and Randy at the table, when all the girls were in the bathroom or outside smoking, or who knows where.

Sushi (in the apparently eternally reserved section--where only local news anchors are allowed to sit) with the Roommate and my Dear Friend R. (from college), and her dear friend J. (also from college), and it was pretty frickin� tasty. On our way there, I couldn�t help but run into a store on Exchange street, and buy the best three magnets they had. When I came back the next day, to make sure I didn�t miss any, my right decision at the right time ego got a little boost.

My Dear Friend R. (from college)�s friend J. (also from college) gave me a ride back to the hotoilet, (the other two were following). Quizzed that poor girl to death about the real deal with Portland, and learned a great deal, despite probably calling it Providence a couple of times. Sniffed the living shit outta that smoky hotel room so I could remember it later.

Meta-flingiedo sayz: just got back from washing dishes and putting stuff away. Pre-editited a couple of gaffes, like a with where it should have been a for. Mentally smacked myself on the forehead.

Big me is gonna send drinkin� smokin�, writin� me to bed really soon, so better get it wrapped up.

OK--Climbed up onto the bureau / TV stand, and dived bombed onto the hotel bed, and more than once.

My dear friend R. (from college!)�s dear friend J. (from college) drove us all to the Skinny, where we said our dramatic goodbyes.

Watched Check Engine play some tight, tight shit, drummer on fire, and what not, to bizarre boos and if not booze, utter indifference.

Enjoyed easily slipping from our table to the show and back again. Freedom. Unless I get myself into a fight, which I won�t, even in my state, whatever I do here is cool. The two friends I have here don�t care and beyond that will tell nobody. Yeah, that felt great.

Talked with the Check Engine dude for 45 uninterrupted minutes. Yeah, I bought his CD. (And the Roommate took my picture with him--he was very Lou Barlow-esque, and didn�t know it, or if.)

Beyond drunkenly showed it up, in a way that was un-Boston-Cambridge-Somerville-like. For lack of a better expression, I let my hair down. Flirted with the pale, healthy chicks of Maine (that state produces some of the hottest girls ever), and when we left, cab needy, and when I said my drunken goodbye, one of them hugged me and brawnily picked me off of the PBR coated floor, and in front of her boyfriend..

Yeah, that gave me a reason to go back.

Cabbed it back, and we all just talked drunk talk--the kind where you can say any stupid thing you want to say, knowing that nobody will remember it the next day, provided you don�t say or do anything wildly inappropriate.

But none of us really said anything unfortunate, so I guess we wasted our chance. We had fun, going to a convenience store down the highway, for no reason, fueled by Vacationland and kicking a spray paint can cap the rest of the way back, like a hockey puck.

The guy that�s in charge of me writing this has given up. He�s asleep right now. That�s OK--I don�t get much done after he leaves, and even then it�s right after he leaves, just in case he comes back, so he doesn�t catch me all lackadaisical like.

The next day, well--we did stuff. It�s true--we walked and walked, and tried to get the whole today�s the day we just got here vibe going, but we were swimming against the whole today�s the day we�re leaving current.

We were smart enough, though to spend all or our energy on the right day.

Money? Well, let�s not talk about that.

Spot editing Flingiedo is really mad at writing Flingiedo. He knows that there�s tons of HTML errors--italics that aren�t closed, etc... that are gonna add to the estimate writin� Flingiedo gave him.

Writing Flingiedo would like to respond that, yeah, there�s tons of shit to edit, but that�s your job, and that, besides, most of these sentences were written in a hurry. And that I�m really enjoying this cigarette right now. Edit that, asshole.