Portland: A couple Weeks of Not Being There

It's a great city....

Checked out of the hotel a night early and checked in with generous family for that night. Hospitality is always welcomed.

Spent much of the last day walking and taking photographs. I'm not much of a photographer. Can't really play guitar, either, but I enjoy doing both. The two photos below involved steam, which in truth is a moving object, kind of like a cat. The first one was easy--nobody around, shooting through a fence. The second was involved a little trespassing and hoping nobody minded that I was creeping around the driveway.

The photo below is of (I assume) a homeless woman just up the sidewalk from Voodoo Doughnuts, where 50 or so people were lined up for their tourists doughnuts. I had to squat between two parked cars in the street, and I like how the dog seems attentive while the woman seems to be nodding off. I also like the juxtaposition of the woman with the painting above her.

The final photo is of a young man who said his name is Spike. This was a fun encounter. Walking along the waterfront, I saw him sitting on the bench. "Happy new year," he said as I got close. "Greatest hat ever," I said. "Everyone likes it," he says. "They want to take pictures of it." With that, I asked him if he'd mind if I did such a thing.

We talked a bit. His girlfriend Rachel, he said, had broken up with him at a New Year's Eve party, and he suspects it had something to do with the woman's ex-husband. Spike has been in Portland for seven years, he said, after living in Southern California. "Why'd you leave?" I asked, and he said it had something to do with...a woman who'd broken up with him. Poor guy. At one point a half-full bottle of vodka slipped from out of his jacket--vodka mean to be mixed with the tomato juice in the bottle between his feet.

He said he's had the hat for a long time. "What's it made of?" I asked. He didn't know, but he thought it was made out of wolf. In one of his ears was a long bone-like thing. The lobe of his other year looked like it had been split--as in, an earring ripped out of it. Ouch! I thought.

Here's the kicker: He wanted me to send one of the photos to the woman who'd broken up with him on New Year's Eve. Specifically, the second photo. "I want her to see what she's losing," he said. I felt bad for him then. If you've ever been dumped like that, you know that all you want to do is sit on a park bench and drink vodka and tomato juice. But it was cold outside, and I felt sorry for him.

He wanted to send a note to Rachel along with the photograph. He even gave me her phone number. Here's what he wrote in my notebook:

I'm sorry. Yu knew yu always had my heart yu dumb ass. I'm here for you. xoxoxo.

I asked him if he really wanted to say "dumb ass." He said he did, that they often teased each other in such a way.

And I'm not sure if it needs saying, but I never send the note. I couldn't. If I were Rachel, I might be a bit nervous that a stranger had my phone number. But I hope Spike is okay.