I'm not sure where it snuck in from, but apparently there's a new year, and it's mostly sparkling.

Let's cover the notable past, firstly.

• I sold a piece of art. It was hanging in the bookstore coffeeshop, and it was the Hardy Boys running in terror away from a looming Cthulu. It was called The Good Looking Young Men and the Cosmic Evil.
• We went to Canada, Dave and I did. We took our bikes, we took the train, we took our sweet time getting there, and then we stayed a week, pedalling around the city, pretending we were naturals, and watching the fireworks.
• I learned how to do quite a few fancy things on the computer, including the wide world of vector illustration, which helped a lot in my substantial fiddlings at Soupcycle.
• Learned a few of the nuances involved with playing Scrabble on facebook.
• I became severely infatuated with Viso. I haven't proselytized that much since the Mountain Goats, but it has that rush of caffeine that just can't be beat, and I could gaze into the deep blue pools of the bottles for like, ages. Plus 100% of your daily vitamins and minerals!
• I made a couple hundred wedding invitations for some rad folks.
• Took a writer's workshop, wrote a few bajillion words, and then stopped.
• We finally made it to the Japanese Gardens, and I cursed myself for ever having judged it by the Chinese Gardens. It's absolutely huge, and where the Chinese Gardens are like a dollop of calm in the messy sundae of Downtown Portland, the Japanese Gardens are like being bathed in a pool of milk. That simile went offcourse somewhere, but the Japanese Gardens of Portland are just truly serene and amazing.
• We got a new roommate...who's a ninja! Yeah, in your face, suckers.
• Went to a garden party, but most of the people knew my name and recognized me. I looked the same.
• Oooh, we went camping, too, up at Lost Lake. Only for a night, really, but it's such a gorgeous location, tucked away right below Mt.Hood. The next day, we paddled around on the water for the whole morning and watched the salamanders wriggle up and down from the bottom of the lake.
• We dogsat, and catsat, and basically just lived in people's houses for a couple weeks. Litterboxes were cleaned, walks were taken, poop was scooped, and it was as if we were responsible adults for a change.
• Did I see any live shows? Geez, that's a tricky one. I finally saw Little Wings,  I went to see a friend's band, but other than that? Drawing lots of blanks for live music.
• I survived Snowpocalypse 2008, and all I got was this rad recipe for a hot alcoholic drink: Hot apple cider plus Tuaca plus whipped cream equals intoxicating apple pie in your mouth. 

Here's a list of famous people I met this year:
Neal Stephenson is a good listener.
Art Spiegelman told me a great story about P.K. Dick.
Stephenie Meyer made a terrific joke about her fans fighting each other to the death, Thunderdome style.
Carson Ellis' child started to cry while I was trying to convey how much I liked her art, but she didn't pass him off to Colin Meloy.
Michael Pollan happened to walk into the room just as I was opening up my tupperware full of pasta-roni. 
The guys who wrote "Stuff White People Like" were really nice, and one of them gave me a piece of candy. Also, they invited everyone at the reading to stop by the bar afterwards and have a drink with them.
I couldn't find "Go Ask Alice" for Saul Williams and his daughter, but to be honest, that book irritates me, anyway. 
I have problems recognizing Chuck Palahuniak with his new beard.
Charles Bock's "Beautiful Children" garnered some amazing poster art. 
I think Shannon Wheeler and I almost count as old friends by now.
I'd just about say the same about Lord Whimsy.
One of the original Merry Pranksters called me "dear". 
Sarah Vowell was coming down with something. 
Jane Kirkpatrick and I agree about her book covers.
Eoin Colfer is just as charming as everyone says.
Jim Wallis knows people in Portland.
I've got to learn to recognize Tom Spanbauer on sight. 
Graham Salisbury loves rebound books.
Blake Nelson promises he'll bring me a poster. 

Tags: famous people, lists, new year
how i feel: donuts & milk of magnesia

  It was a small loud day of famousness.

A sharply dressed man asked about the poetry section, and I noted his upturned collar, and as I pointed him past philosophy, I started to wonder. But I shook it off, pretty sure that the local population of nattily dressed black men had taken a pleasant uptick, but not willing to bet on it being one particular man in general. A handful of minutes later, at the register, I rustled through my coworker's receipt tape.
   "Hey, did that guy use his credit card?" And in a few seconds I was pointing out the name on the slip to her, and her eyes got real big, and then we were just bursting, tapping our friends' shoulders, playing it as cool as possible while still knowing that Saul Williams was walking around our aisles. 

   There was an older guy who came in to sell some books, and he knew our manager from way back, 35 years back, and so he made the rounds of the store and talked to a few people.  Seemed nice, had a few interesting and rare books of note, including a $600 oversize tibetan tome of art instruction. He called a lot of the women darling, and walked down to the grocery store with one of our buyers, the two of them discussing hemp milk as they walked out the door. "Will it get you bombed?" he was asking. I google his name and find a bookseller somewhere selling a $2000 copy of a William Burroughs book, notable for rarity and for being inscribed to the same nice man who just asked if I would check his bag behind the counter.

     A little later, he comes back and wants to know about one of the books in the locked case in literature, a signed Ken Kesey title.

          "This is the only one of his books that I'm a character in", he says, "It holds a special meaning to me." I set that aside as well, and he thanks me again and calls me dear and leaves, promising to bring back more books to sell tomorrow.  The other buyer leans against the counter and tells me about our visitor, one of the original Merry Pranksters.

 I only wish the two paths had overlapped, because I'm sure they would have gotten along swimmingly.

Tags: books, famous people, music
what i hear: sound waves where I will

I forgot how cool he is. A couple of the staff
members were hesitant as all get out about
the event, but afterwards couldn't stop raving
about what a good guy he is. It's true, too, I
think. My job was to ferry people from the line
to the signing point, and after watching
interaction after interaction, it gets really
obvious that even though he's got a good
supply of easy one-liners, he's also clever as
everything. Asks person after person what
they do, what takes up their time. If they say
that they like write, or do film, he asks them what
their work's about. He goads them a bit, too,
if they sort of hedge around it, tells them to do
more, try harder, produce, create. Everyone
walked away sort of shell-shocked. I was
taking the pictures, so each fan would hand me
their camera and I'd do a few point and shoots,
and every damn time, they would turn away from
the table after the handshake in some sort of
glory daze, and I would have start escalating my
reminder.

"Camera. Camera! CAMERA!"

Tags: famous people, work

Oh, and I just talked to Zadie Smith, but I thought it was Mary Englebreit at first. The accent threw me, and she was in a car so it was a little fuzzy. I guess I'm sort of glad I didn't realize it until I had already transferred her, because I would have gotten all gushy and overwhelmed, and wouldn't have helped her at all. As opposed to pushing the vital button that transferred her to the event guy.

Oh, but I wish I could have told her...

Tags: books, famous people, work

I think I just talked to Richard Hell. But I couldn't give him very good parking directions. Sorry, sir, I know you're the apotheosis of New York punk, but there is no private lot for parking on Hawthorne.

Tags: books, famous people, work
how i feel: Brushed

Well well well, what a week it has been. They come in threes, these things, so I'm gonna just lay them out so you can feast your eyes on the oddness that is my June.

1.) On Sunday, out of nowhere, I find out they're shooting a romantic comedy up about thirty blocks from my house, and word on the street is that they need extras. Extras in earth tones. Need I say more? So we cruise on up, and are ushered into a large cafeteria where a huge line of hopefuls stands stretched around the outskirts of tables and chairs. We fill out our paperwork and join the que, standing very non-cholantly as several women make their way around the room.

"You. And..uh...you." They pass their gaze up and down, and it feels like some ridiculous grown-up version of picking teams, except for their team is the entertainment industry, and we know we shouldn't care but we do. And then they pick us, and we join a small mob at the other side of the room, whispering and laughing that we were chosen. The Chosen. We had that elusive spark, we think. In reality, the women did a pretty good job of selecting a cross-section of humanity from the throngs that had gathered. They worked with what they had, at least. We all looked kind of non-descript, yet were pretty individualistic as far as features and sizes go.

And then we go sit in this community theater (I'm fourth row back, third from the left) for hours. Hours and hours and hours, they have our undivided attention. They tell us to stand, we stand. They tell us to sit, we sit. We're watching the actors up on stage act out the last scene of Cyrano De Bergerac. The oddest part is that this is not the movie. The movie is about people who join a community theater. Actors are playing the people who are actors. The whole time, We're watching actors act like people acting. At one point, the crowd is told to rise to their feet in thunderous applause..Except we're not really clapping, only pantomiming the claps. It's incredibly eerie to be with a couple hundred people who are standing and applauding silently like mad.

The lead actor acts like a ham, but the audience loves it. He quips and bows and winks and flings his cape about, and the extras shout and cheer and laugh. The actress is cute and sweet looking, and curtsies in her old fashioned dress. Another actor, a solid looking African American man, booms instructions on the stage as he stalks around in his pointy boots, but later enthralls us all by coming out early from his break and singing an old show tune to the audience. We adore him for that.

The powers that be keep our interest by raffling off various prizes. They buy us tacos when it's realized the filming's going to stretch on longer than planned. Two small gutter punks hover around the bowls of trail mix provided for refreshments, but later spit on a girl and beat a hasty retreat through a side door.

We stayed from 4:00 p.m to 12:30. Then we got tired and left.

-----------------------------
2. I'm at work, doing as little as possible, when an older woman comes in and asks for Elizabeth Cotten. I track the artist down in the folk section, and wind up talking to the woman for another half hour. She discovers that I went to a private Christian school, and tells me "God is good", as she recounts how her son (who she says has always been into music) really loved a singer named Larry Norman when he was growing up, and she always prayed that Larry would affect him. She tells me how they got a chance to meet him earlier this year and since then they've kept in touch, and Larry's been a blessing to her as well. "God is good", she says again.\

We talk more, and she asks me what I've been up to. I tell her about the mimeograph class I took, about the screenprinting I'm doing, about how I'm working with developmentally disabled kids. I admit that I really don't know where I fit in. She says that's ok, and points to herself as an example. She only recently started playing the old guitar they had around the place, even though her son and other kids had all learned when they were younger. She says that God has a plan, and that if I trust him it'll be alright. Not that I won't have troubles, but God has a plan. We talk about adoption, and she tells me about how her daughter adopted to little boys from Korea, and how talented and blessed they are.

She's a bit in my personal space, I have to admit, but she seems pretty non-threatening so I let it be, even when she grabs my arm and looks me in the eye and tells me things about God. She tells me a little more about how glad she is her son is moving into the areas, even though he's busy with his band reforming so she doesn't get to see him so often. I ask her, a sidenote, a chance query.."What's the name of your son's band?"

"The Pixies."
*pause*
"Oh. Yeah, uh, I think I've heard of them. What's your son's name?"
"Charles."

We talk some more. She was at Coachella, laughingly jokes that if she had known I could have gone. I laugh. She tells me more about God, and we exchange names, and I get excited later, where she can't see how obvious I am.

After we finish talking, I look up the Pixies. Yes, there was a Charles Thompson in the group when it first formed. Turns out he changed his name to Black Francis.

------------------------

3.And then today, when I was garage saling, this guy was on the corner by Goodwill, and he was having a paper sale, and oh, the paper he had. Card stock, and brown paper, and brown card stock paper. Big batches, and all at must-go prices. It was the coolest thing in the whole wide world, and I bought lots.


And that's all.

Tags: bands, culture, famous people, stories
how i feel: two-toned
what i hear: Placebo-Friend in Need