Mountain Trip to Japan 1959

I can’t write. Literally, cannot write. Every word I try to put down makes me feel like I’m fighting off motion sickness. We had a lovely day in Portland yesterday; tried to find coffee, played with Duplos, pawed through used music at Underground Music downtown, saw Guster at the Roseland, watched the most f-ed up slideshow presentation ever, helped people protest outside Powell’s books, ate dinner under the spring-loaded dancefloor of the Crystal Ballroom… it was one of the most spendid days I’ve had in a long while and is completely incoherent in my mind.

I leave for Bend in five days, and everything is lost in the foggy static of transition. Right now I need to feel the cadence.