RandomCha

Well, gettin’ ready for the cocktail thingy. But I swear I’m only going to have ONE beforehand. Note to CHRISTINE and BRANDON: we are making Suffering Bastards.

Wish me luck!

Brandon, thanks so much for covering for me!

It didn’t start raining yesterday until 2 o’clock. That left me plenty of time to wander around Pearl, which is indeed a sort of gentrifed ghetto. I just don’t see who is going to be moving into the scads of million-dollar lofts that they’re putting in everywhere. Tax collectors? I spent about about two hours in EM, Everyday Music, which is a massive record store. I found out later that I’d only seen HALF of it. Maybe I can go back. I picked up a really cheap used copy of the second album by Pole.

I had a donut and coffee at Whole Foods and looked through the weeklies. One had a listing for the reading, and the other had a full-fledged quarterpage review of 100SP. The good news: it’s a very intelligent, articulate piece. The bad news: he didn’t exactly like the book. Sample quotes: “… a fascinating concept that is greatly indebted to the ideas of experimental composer John Cage … a reader’s enjoyment hinges on whether he or she demands that a narrative contain a discernable beginning, middle, or end, or, on the other hand, finds pleasure in the very unraveling of the storytelling convention … {100SP} winds up as little more than a gimmicky presentation, in which readers have the option to hit the random play mode on an already disconnected string of episodes.”

Actually, I do agree with some of the things the reviewer brings up, but my whole point WAS to unravel storytelling convention. And I like his review. If I knew nothing about the book, his review would make me want to read it. I think one of the things that people sometimes forget is that when you’re a writer, even a bad review can be thrilling if it’s well-written.

I met up with Kevin Sampsell and we had lunch at this charming little diner called the Byways Cafe. Very 50’s, with old luggage stacked on shelves and a poster for “The Long, Long Trailer.” Good turkey burger. We talked books for quite awhile and then we walked around. It’s insane. Powell’s is four floors and several thousand square feet of books, and yet there are at least three OTHER bookstores within a five-minute walk that are also doing a great business. Apparently, per capita, there are more brewpubs and strip clubs than anywhere else in the US. So these Portlanders basically read, go see a strip show and then have a beer. I bought a few books at Powell’s. I could have spent all day there.

After lunch I was dead tired so I came back to the house and slept for a few hours.

Last night we went to dinner at this old-style Chinese joint called House of Louie and then had cocktails and this ultraswank lounge called East. They were playing lots of good soul music, and I had a drink called the Orchid that I will be mixing up when I’m back in Chicago. We all went to bed eary.

The rain has lifted which means that I can now go for a walk. Elizabeth suggested I walk down 33rd to Hawthorne, a bohemian-type area that also has an amazing pastry shop. A brioche or croissant has my name all over it.

I saw the most inspiring thing on the bus this morning: a kid who looked like he was about 11-years old, sitting quietly and reading The Collected Stories of Franz Kafka.

Here I am in Portland, safe and sound. The flight was almost enjoyable. I snagged a seat near the front, had the row all to myself, and Southwest just installed these very comfy new leather seats. We landed early. And it wasn’t raining! It still isn’t, but when I go out to day you can bet I’m bringing my umbrella.

Last night I feel asleep so fast that I don’t even remember faling asleep. I do feel a bit of jetlag but that should be cleared up with a nap this afternoon. Shortly I’ll be hopping on the #9 bus and wandering around downtown. Pearl, the neighborhood is called. Elizabeth and Steve both snickered at the name when I mentioned it last night. They said it’s not as grandiose as all that. If that’s true then it must be a lot like LoDo in Denver. But I hear there’s a huge record store around there. And I’ll sit and write and have some coffee. Still polishing some excerpts I may be reading.

At noon I’m meeting Kevin Sampsell at Powell’s. He’s graciously offered to walk around the neighborhood with me, have a bite of lunch. Then I’ll give Brian B a call (http://www.supercoolnothing.com).

Tonight there’s talk of going to the Alibi (a tiki bar). I’m craving Chinese of Mexican food.

It’s quiet and green out there, moody. My iPod is loaded with suitable music, including Tom Verlaine, “Twin Peaks” and Julee Cruise, Keane, Supergrass “Road To Rouen,” Philip Glass, Michael Nyman’s soundtrack to “Wonderland,” and Gil Melle.

beansbouf is going to host a cocktail reception before my reading on Friday … swank! I told her that I can’t get too sloshed before the reading and she replied, “Yes, but other people can.”

I’ve got all my stuff here at work in preparation for heading to the airport when I clock out. I’m taking 10 copies of 100SP with me, and they’re bulky nuisances. Next time I’m going to write something smaller. At least I won’t be lugging them back from Portland.

I’m going to try and post a little while I’m there. Gosh, I’m excited.

Today’s forecast for Portland: “… Rain turning to showers …”

(I guess it’s a fine line).

Joey and I waited in line about half an hour. Everyone waiting in line with us was very chatty and cheerful. The doorman talked about how over the weekend, there were waits of over two hours. We were seated at a table against a far wall; cozy but not crowded. Across from us was a glass case with Chicago Liquor License No. 1 (the Berghoff was the first establishment awarded a license at the end of Prohibition). The interior of the restuarant has beautiful wood paneling and old-fashioned light fixtures. I don’t know if the place has an “Old World” charm but it certainly has an “Old Chicago” charm.

As has been written elsewhere, our waiter was polite but brusque. He had an enormous potbelly. We started off with steins of Berghoff Dark, very hearty and refreshing, and then as an appetizer had the Mushroom Strudel. Almost anything with puff pastry and onion gravy is good, and this certainly was.

For the main course I had Weiner Snitzel (how could I not?) with a side of sauerkraut. Now, when I was growing up, my Mom and Dad occasionally had sauerkraut and it was always from a can. The sauerkraut tonight was pretty darn good, and as a garnish was perfect. Just a little tang to compliment the buttery snitzel. It also came with german potatoes, which as far as I could taste were more or less home fries. But damned if they weren’t tasty.

We took our time eating but the food was gone fast. We were both ravenous for some reason. Then came dessert. I chose Black Forest Cake. Joey went for apple strudel with ice cream. And (to make it a proper, full-course dinner) coffee. The cake was moist but not overly rich. By the time it was gone and I was on cup of coffee No. 2 I didn’t feel like moving much. But it was time to go. When we got outside, the line was about the same length as when we had gone in.

Anyway it was fantastic, wistful meal. The food was good, solid German comfort food. Not innovative, just hearty and well-prepared. In a modern world filled with expensive nouvelle cuisine and hoity-toity dining fads, there’s something sad about seeing a resturant about to close that has been serving straight-forward GOOD FOOD since 1898. It’s great I was able to eat there at least once.

sumsinnow and I are having dinner at the Berghoff tonight. I hafta eat there at least once before it closes for good! Hopefully since it’s a Monday and we’re going at 4:30 the line won’t be too bad. I’m leaving for downtown a little early to drop off Andy’s wristwatch at Fields–err, Macy’s I mean, for repair.

Andy and I were talking this morning about the holiday. Howard Zinn argues pretty persuasively that towards the end of his life, Martin Luther King Jr. was becoming increasively convinced that fighting against class differences (aggrivated by the madness of the Vietnam War, and the inequality of the fighting soldiers’ racial makeup) was the key to dealing with inequality in America. And that had MLK Jr. lived longer, he probably would have focused more on the labor/wage struggle. Think about that. Would that have made him more ‘dangerous’?

It’s hard to believe that in two days I’ll be on my way to Portland. A three-day weekend, two days of work, and then four days out of town. I can handle that. I still have no idea how many people will show up for the reading, but I’ve been posting about it like mad on LJ.

Sleet outside, window blinds cracked so I can see–the office is empty save for me, the shipping manager, an intern. I just ordered Chinese food for delivery. I dunno why, but recently I can’t get enough of it. Never get tired of Chinese. Going to be a long slow afternoon. I’m enjoying my iPod. Fresh coffee too. Life could be worse.

I’m reading “Jealousy,” by Alain Robbe-Grillet. I think Mr. Robbe-Grillet is going to be one of the keys to my own novel. No one hardly knows who he is anymore, which is shameful; no one will trace the influence. Then again, I don’t think it’s important for a reader to pick up on. It’s just a hook for me as I’m writing. Springboard.

Whoa, those flakes out there are BIG. Excited about going to Portland next weekend.

So, this year the Academy is going to give Robert Altman an honorary Oscar. He’s been nominated for Best Director five times but has never won. That ties him with Hitchcock and Scorcese.

What is his acceptance speech going to be like? He might be 80 years old, but he still doesn’t take any crap from anyone. Is he going to give the audience an old-fashioned smackdown?