Da Beach

We went to the seaside. I drove us out of the city, after we hit our street I could swear we were in the middle of nowhere. The landscape began to change, and although we drove for an hour and a half, we did not see much civilization on the main road. We did see a road-side spring for drinking water. I filled up my little container that Mindy gave me:



We arrived at our point of destination, and walked under the road to a wonderful path that led through the woods to the sea. The trees are so big here!



So are the slugs! Rock!



We got to the beach, and there were lots and lots of surfers. The sand was fenced in by these huge jutting cliffs. We climbed out as far as we could. There were starfish EVERYWHERE!



Then, we made our way down to this great burrito joint in a little town south of the beach, stopping off for a romantic picture-esque....



Next stop: Farmer's Market! xo

Parks

There are a whole lot of Parks in Portland. Yesterday we explored two. The first was called Washington Park, it is a part of a bigger park called Forest Park, which is right next to our new house, which we haven't moved into yet. Washington Park is veined with trails, and my favorite one that we went on is called "Wildwood" Here is a picture of us there:





Then we went up to an old mansion that is surrounded by park and panoramic views of the city, the valley, and the snow-covered mountains beyond. This truly is beautiful country.

While walking, I saw what appeared to be my very favorite wild berry, red caps. I wanted to eat a whole bunch of them, but decided against it just in case. Although the flora seems so similar to Vermont's, I thought it best to wait until I get my dirty paws on a field guide.

Now we're off to the beach. I'll report back later on that!

Portland, Oregon

I've moved.

No longer a Vermonster misplaced in the desert outside Hollywood, now I'm in the town I always thought I'd never move to. For the simple reason that everyone always compares it to the town I call home, only bigger. And everyone from Burlington ends up in Portland.

I'd rather be unusual.

Or would I? Times past, I contemplated the irony of my existence, the strangeness of my instinct. Nothing made sense.

Lately, all I can think about is teacups and curtains. The lure of the underground is fading. I want to make tables and chairs. I want to sew place mats and napkins.

I remember the advice of someone I admire greatly when I told him I was moving to Southern California: he said, "L.A. is a wonderful place, if you know who you are."

I felt it very easy to define myself in an environment that did not produce me, did not support or validate me, and viewed me as an oddity. There was never anything closely related to who I am that I saw. I never questioned who I am.

But now, after a year and a half of creative rest and relative inaction, I find myself asking that question. Who are you? Are you the result of your work? Are you a mirror that reflects how you've affected the people you've chanced to meet? Are you still a vessel of unrealised potential, perpetually distracted from practice and discipline? Are you a sponge that drinks from it's surroundings, thriving on the excitement of others?

I do know that I'm specifically tired.

Tired of doing nothing, and tired from moving.

And I do know that music still moves me, perpetually and religiously.

So, let's make some music.