Alright, kiddies. Gather ’round as uncle Dane tells another story from his musical ass. First off, we’ve cooked up two new photo galleries tonight, one from May when I went to Yachats, Oregon to play on the coast for a weekend, and another from the String Cheese Incident music festival at Horning’s Hideout in June. Enjoy.
Today I turned over the keys to Lava House, so now someone else gets the opportunity to drive our old digs around for awhile. I told the property manager that while the bay windows have great views, especially in the winter when the Elm on Nightmare Street is bare, and the off-street parking is delightful, and the house has a lovely indoor breeze when you open up the front and back doors, and the fireplace makes you cozy and the lukewarm showers make you rugged, the key renting point of this property is none of the above.
No, with the neighborhood becoming overrun with yappy dogs and stray cats and construction sites and drunk traffic, there are two reasons why someone should want to live at Lava House:
- It is within stumbling distance from all the downtown bars
- When the McMenamins across the street opens in November, it will be within wheelbarrow distance from that
Funny thing is, I don’t particularly miss Lava House. Since leaving for college in ’99 I haven’t lived in any one place for more than six months at a time, and having lived there for nearly a year, Lava House has been my most permanent residence since childhood. Erik moved out in August and it was fun spending most of September rattling around my own place, but really, without the soul of the occupants, Lava House didn’t have much of a soul at all.
Lava House does mark a point where I needed to flesh out my belongings beyond what I can reasonably carry on my back. Through college and into my exodus to Hood River, I have typically tried to cull my belongings to only the reasonable necessities; that which I can dump at the cabin in trips to visit the folks, or just enough that I can stuff in my car and still live for an undetermined amount of time, 1,600 miles away from familiarity.
I knew I needed to buy a mattress when I moved into Lava House, and for nearly two weeks I resisted, spending nights in my sleeping bag on the floor in my room. I finally broke down and got one, and felt absolutely sick about my sudden loss of mobility. If it wasn’t for the fact that the mattress salesman was the nicest grandfather in the world, I don’t think I would have survived.
But I did, and through subsequent trips to the Goodwill I built myself a frugal living environ. A computer desk for $40. A night stand for $8. A dresser (which is actually a piece of office furniture with locking drawers) for $20. A computer chair for $2. Thanks to Goodwill I’m one step up from the plywood and cinder blocks of college. Up, but not too far up, and I like it that way. I enjoy knowing that if it comes down to it, I can give all my large objects to the goats, hit the open road, and only be out a couple hundred bucks. I hate moving. I’ll throw everything away before I’ll go through the trouble of moving it.
I have accumulated other things, however, that I would not be comfortable parting with, and they are the things that allow me to pursue the hobbies that I enjoy. A computer or three, a bass guitar and amp, a bike, a new kite, a Subaru. None of these are ends, but means. They are merely enablers. Pretty freakin’ rad enablers at that, but enablers nonetheless.
If there’s one thing I hate more than moving it’s unpacking, and that’s where I’m at right now in my new place. I’m at a point in my life where I still starve for agility, and I hate looking at all these boxes of junk. Each one is an anchor. If I take the time to unpack everything I can fill up my shelves and make it look like someone lives here, but then again I’m just going to need to pack it all up in a few months and shove it to a new corner of the globe.
What a pain. Sometimes I wish a wildfire would just come along and burn it all away so I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore, and then I could worry about something new like third degree burns and lost social security cards and stuff.
Then again, maybe I’m just extremely tired and stressed from moving, and I need to lighten up, get some rest, drink more beer, and go clubbing. If it comes down to it, I can always put everything in the front yard with a free sign. Or better yet, a $20 sign. Cuz if it’s free people will think there’s something wrong with it, like it smells like pee or something. But if it costs twenty bucks, people are much more apt to buy it.
Or better yet, steal it.