But I Arrived In Portland On August 9, 1981

When I finished packing the Portland Pataphysical Outpatient Clinic, Lounge, & Laundromat (along with Lucy Juice & several of our favorite perennial herbs) into the 67 Mustang I was towing behind the U-Haul on the morning of August 2 or 3 in 1981, it was already 96° at 9 AM. I had spent the first 17 years of my life in & around Astoria, NY. I didn’t hate New York any more than I hated the South, but I had no desire to return there. Most of my childhood friends were dead & my family was a bad reality show before bad reality shows became the pinnacle of American culture.

On the other hand, I was totally used to the NY metropolitan area climate, but in 17 years of living around the shit-hole states in the South, I still hadn’t gotten used to the heat. It was more oppressive than the stupidity of my neighbors & the cruelty of the leaders they chose to elect.

Why did I waste 17 years of my life in the South? Because I was stupid enough to be flattered when Che told me he envied me for “living in the belly of the beast.” At the time, I thought he was talking about North Carolina & not our entire nation of miserable fucks. Also, as it turns out, time is meant to be wasted. That’s why God made so much of it.

Long story short: nobody saw me off when I headed away from Pittsboro & drove across the entire elastic waistband of our favorite Mainfest-Destiny of a Superfund site. Lucy Juice ran off in Laramie, Wyoming. I spent half a day trying to find her, but I had to move on. Or maybe she did. Does it really matter at this late date?

When I finally stepped out of the cab of the truck outside our new offices at 2842 NE Rodney on August 9 at around 4 in the afternoon, I nearly passed out, it was so fucking hot. I was reminded of this ludicrous episode in my ludicrous life, as I wrote a story of flash flooding caused by melting snowflakes at Portland higher lily-white elevations. 

I appreciated once again how time is made to be wasted as I took this screenshot yesterday just before Portland got even weirder & broke the all time temperature record & maybe, if we’re lucky, gets set to get more miserable today & go one better tomorrow.

I’m tempted to go outside dressed as a turnip, waiting for someone to shout: "Go for it, Ron! Go for it!”