Thirty Licks

I've never been outside of North America. When I was nine I went to Jamaica with my mom and sister but it's still in one of the Americas. I remember a creepy middle aged man in his sixties had developed a crush on my mom and followed us around as we toured the slums in the safety of the resort bus. I distinctly remember a large fat belly stuffed into a Police t-shirt, Stewart Copeland's face deformed and stretched out lengthwise. His name was either Norman or Milton and by the third day our favorite Jamaican passtime involved a lot of hiding and running.

I don't care much for hot, sunny beaches. Resorts and hotels lose their novelty after the first seven minutes and the thought of laying out on the sand for hours on end seems wasteful. No, I prefer the concrete, steel and glass of the continent's largest cities. I think I've done pretty well too: Montreal, Boston, New York, Detroit, Chicago, Winnipeg, Calgary, Billings, Seattle, San Fransisco, San Jose, Vancouver, Victoria and of course Portland, Oregon.

I talk about Portland a lot. I've only been there four times in my life but the ground I covered in that period would impress even a "born and raiser". Portland has a reputation for being a kind of a bearded, hipster town. Think Urban Outfitters as a metropolis. And it is, don't get me wrong. The shear volume of facial hair and flannel was enough to make you want to grab an axe and cut down some firs. The thing about Portland though is that this is where the look began. There is something genuine about every weirdo you pass.

I saw Jenny Lewis and Johnathan Rice perform as Jenny and Johnny in the basement venue of a renovated motel and lounge called The Doug Fir. Jenny Lewis is one of my favorite musicians and songwriters and going to see her play in this city, in this venue, at exactly the right time in my life was something I couldn't ignore. It sounds cheezy because it is. Very few people take vacations by themselves. Even fewer go to concerts alone, in a city they aren't from, in the basement of a renovated motel and lounge.

I had never gone to a concert alone before. It sucks. I'm a early fanatic, I need to be early to just about everything. I don't socialize and I no longer drink (in theory) so for the hour and a half prior to the first shitty band I just stood there alone. I did eventually buy a drink, a rum and coke. I don't like rum and coke but I had never ordered a drink alone in a club before. Even when I'm not alone I find ordering drinks anxiety riddling. I sipped that tiny fucker for a good hour.

When the music did begin and the crowds began to form I started to notice that I was greatly out numbered by the opposite sex. I think a lot of males would be either on the prowl or feel fearfully inadequate. I, on the other hand stood worried that all the pretty girls around me were assuming that I was the either the type of male who would be either on the prowl or feel fearfully inadequate.

The show was amazing. Jenny was in a fantastic mood and Johnny talked a lot to the crowd. When I've gone to see Rilo Kiley in the past the group is usually pretty chipper except for Blake who always looks like playing that show at that time is the last place he'd rather be. He was on Boy Meets World, Jenny was in The Wizard.

After the show ended I walked alone in the dark back to my motel room. I remember thinking to myself that this didn't seem like the type of vacation anyone takes. It was not for work or even just to relax. This trip was odd and gritty just like Portland. It was my favorite trip.

I have a lot of stories about Portland and I will get into the details of them later on. This is yet another attempt at blogdem and is basically a continuation of the Smallish Deer and Andrewver blogs I had in the past. I may even revisit and repost some of the better ones. I've been on a real This American Life kick over the last few months, essentially completing the last decade. I love writing, and I'd like to get better at it but for the most part I like the idea of recording memories and stories that may one day be of some interest.