Watching The Fireworks From The Bridge

Friday was the beginning of the Rose Festival, and my usual tradition is going up to the train bridge across from my apartment with a couple of beers and my camera and snapping pictures. It's a great view because you can see all of downtown Portland with the fireworks in the foreground. Usually it's packed to the point of feeling the bridge move whenever someone else comes up to sit down. This year it was pretty sparse for some reason, which was fine by me because it's kind of high up, and the thought of the bridge breaking and dropping us down onto the traintracks is somewhat scary. I have a thing about heights anyway, and it's taken me a while to where I can walk up the three flights of stairs and not freak out when I hit the top. Here's a view from the top of the stairs at dusk looking into the city. The fence is kind of a pain to deal with, but I try to incorporate it into the frame sometimes.

This year I was hoping to focus on the people watching the fireworks. The three people in the photo at the top of the page were from out of town, and it was cool to hear how excited they were to be viewing the fireworks from their vantage point.

A couple of years ago I was able to get some really good pictures including this one that came out sort of heart shaped for some reason. Those are the real colors too. It was a little bit cloudy so they were able to show up better against the sky then they do when it's clear out. I have many fond memories of watching the fireworks in Portland, including the first month I moved here from Seattle after some pretty bad experiences that happened in that messed up town. My aunt, uncle, cousins, and my son who was five at the time all brought a cooler, and blankets down to the rock bank by OMSI and sat and watched the Blues Festival fireworks close up. That was the first time I had a chance to see them so close. My son Nik was old enough to appreciate them even though we had to wait forever so it was dark enough for them to get started.

I may have to bribe someone with a view from the Westside so I can get a different perspective for the July works this year. I used to be able to sit on the roof of my old apartment and see both the Portland fireworks and the Vancouver ones. Oh well. Hmm, maybe someone with a boat.

County Fair

My friend Kirsten and I went to the Multnomah County Fair at Oaks Park over the weekend because I totally needed to get my fix for Elephant Ears, and barn animals. We ended up parking outside of Oaks Park because traffic was insane. I didn't realize Multnomah County had a fair, so I was curious if it was going to be super hokey which I was kind of hoping for.

Our first good indication was this sign that read "Weiner Dog Contest Vender Parking and Rabbit Exhibitors." We headed over to the rabbits who were in the process of being judged. I had never seen so many varities of rabbit in one location. I don't think you can tell by the picture, but this guy was huge. He looked like he easily weighed 20 pounds or so. There was a very nice lady that noticed us taking pictures and offered to pose her bunny for us on a special bunny posing lecturn type thing. He looked alot like Groucho Marx. We hoped she did well in her category because you could tell she really liked her wabbits.

Next we headed over to actual fair itself. It was awesome. There was crap for sale all over the place, and the fair was packed. I am a huge people watcher, so I was happy to see all the people who I normally wouldn't run into in Portland. There was nary a hipster in site, except for a few uber-dorks like myself that love this type of thing. Here are a couple of my favorites. I was so happy to see a mullet, and these three women reminded me of the three muses, fair style.

There were a ton of great exhibits, including a petting zoo that smelled awful, a pen full of the cutest piglets and their gigantic mom, and Humphrey's Farmyard Fun where I got to make a Dirt Baby for free. It's basically a chia pet made with a nylon, compost mix, and grass seeds. You put the "tail" in a jar of water and eventually the baby will grow hair.

We went over to the main pavillion where they had all the items out for judging. There were flowers, jams and jellies, produce, and my favorite, the cowboy boot decorating contest. Here are some of the entries. I was impressed by the variety, and what people considered "decorating." One of my favorite entries for the flower arranging category was
a gorgeous arrangement with a football theme. I would show the picture but I had my camera on the wrong setting and it came out blurry. It had to be the most hideous thing I've ever seen, with a
football field as the focal point, and the flowers arranged as the goalposts.

We skipped the rides because they were kind of pricey, but we did manage to scam an Elephant Ear because their system was kind of wack and totally unorganized. Kirsten used the $5.00 we saved to buy a purple inflatable alien. She was very proud of it. We watched the balloon guy do his thing, and listened to a horrible singer mangle classic country tunes. After I while I was getting on overload, so we headed out and checked out the Oaks Park graveyard where they store old ride components that were put out to pasture.

Overall it was exactly what I had hoped for, and the nice thing was not having to drive for an hour and fight traffic to get my fair fix. This is Kirsten and her alien. You can check out her photos using the lensbaby lense at her website http://livefrombeechstreet.blogspot.com.

Where's Your Real Art?!

I was sitting at the Scoreboard on Division Friday night after work, grabbing a quick drink. The Scoreboard is kind of a divey place with lots of sports stuff and all that, but the barstaff are really nice, and they pour a good drink. They also let me watch the Munsters and the Adams Family on TV Land Saturday mornings. My friend G. and I like to sit and bullshit with the bartenders on Sunday mornings and watch Arms Akimbo Theater, otherwise known as Bonanza.

Anyway, I had my sketchbook with me, to keep myself occupied. I usually carry it with me when I'm out on my own. It keeps me out of trouble, and I seem to get some of my better ideas when I'm sketching at the bar. I was happily sketching away on a fountain I'm going to be sculpting for Elshoff Manor at the Fright Town haunted house. It's kind of a vampire skull thingy. It's going to have lights in the eyes, and fog coming out of it's mouth. I didn't realize that this was going to put me in a position to be attacked by three people because of a few pencil scratches on paper.

The first person who wanted to see what I was working on came and sat down next to me. She's seen my gore stuff in the past, so I was thinking "okay, I'll let her take a look" and showed her my sketch and explained what it was for. She said, "oh that's interesting but when are you going to bring in your real art?" Apparently, "Real Art" is the Native American designs, rainbows, and flowers that she paints on vinyl. She basically told me I was throwing my talent away.

The next person was a guy I've chatted with in the past. He's some sort of corporate whore artist who paints murals in commercial buildings. He took it upon himself to tell me that I was wasting my time, and talent, and should be doing "Real Art."

The last guy was some old drunk at My Father's Place (big surprise) who told me I was evil and a witch because of my sketch.

With all this negative b.s. I was totally thrown off balance. Who comes up to someone sketching and tells them that they are throwing their talent away? I don't know if they just don't have anything better to do, and I was just a sitting duck, or somehow they thought they were doing me some huge favor. I must be getting better at my sketching to cause this much of a commotion. I do this kind of art because it's fun, and it's what I'm best at. We had 11,000 people come through the haunted house last year, at $20 a pop, just to be scared by some of the stuff I did. Maybe my art critics don't realize that someone actually creates all the stuff that literally makes people poop their pants. I guess we're all a bunch of circus freaks, with the mentality of 14 year olds, but we really have fun doing it.

I guess my point to all this is to shut the hell up. I'm not asking for your approval, and this is my "Real Art." Not that I'm anywhere near the talent of people like Francis Bacon, or Hieronymous Bosch, but if you take a look at the content of their paintings it's pretty damn scary and morbid. I guess it's all really just a matter of perspective. I think part of why I do what I do is to get a reaction, so it looks like I am succeeding at my goal. Yay me! At least my photos are pretty.

Alternative Funeral Options

I know this sounds a little bit on the gruesome side, but I just ran across a new 100% environmentally friendly coffin sold by a company called Ecopods. They are made out of 100% recycled paper, and the design was inspired from the shape of a seed pod, and the shape of Egyptian coffins. They come in red, green, blue and gold leaf, and have the option of silk-screened designs on the lid. It seems like a perfect fit for us granola eating, recycling happy, environmentally active Northwesterners.

The pods were designed by Hazel Selina who worked for years as a mid-wife helping people bring new life onto the planet. As she began to age and saw her family grow older her attention turned to death. A close friend she was caring for was dying, and that started her thinking about funerals and coffins in particular.

I know my parents have been dealing with aging family and friends reaching this point, and it's not a fun thing to think about. There is a growing trend among people who were the pioneers in leaving a light footprint on the earth through recycling, natural foods, and green practices, to start looking at alternatives when it comes to the end of their lives. The flower children of the sixties are now becoming the caretakers of the 00's, and the baby boomers are starting to face the reality of their own mortality.

As a result, this demographic is taking a more active role in deciding how they want their lives and deaths celebrated when it's time to go. There is a growing trend for party planners specializing in funerals, or as they like to call it "life events." It makes sense. There are as many details that go into planning a funeral, or wake, or whatever type of service one chooses to have, as there are in planning a wedding. One guy in Massachusetts who drove an ice cream truck all his life, had an ice cream truck at his gravesite serving the mourners. People have had marching bands, Native American Rituals, and recently one woman chose to be mummified so her spirit could get used to the adjustment before she was reincarnated. Many people are choosing to be cremated, or buried in alternative sites such as wooded areas where a tree is planted next to their grave as a marker.

The Ecopods are only available in the UK, but it seems like some smart entrepreneur in the Northwest might want to jump on this and create their own product in the states. I think they're a cool idea. Her website is http://ecopod.co.uk/.

Bartender on Bartender Action

I was over at Aztec Willies in NE Portland a couple of Saturdays ago getting some blood money from my ex-husband. We have been going there for over 11 years, and it's sort of a neutral ground for us, so it seemed a safe place to meet. Our friend K. bartends there, and is a very good, very friendly, very efficient bartender. She knows how to pour a drink, and can keep the flow going when she's swamped.

It's an eastside bar, and during the day is a mix of old and young, multi-cultured, single, married, divorced, coupled people. It's usually a mellow place to hang out. They have salsa on the weekends, so the crowd radically shifts, but for the most part it's a hang out for the regulars after work.

On this particular Saturday people were starting hard-core by 2:00pm. There was a five-top of ex-biker babes slamming margaritas, some sad writer in the corner drinking jaeger shots with Papbst backs, and a group of overmetrosexualized men, and their Pussy Cat Dolls wannabe friend sitting at the bar being complete shits. They were sending their drinks back, telling K. they weren't strong enough, being rude to the mostly hispanic staff trying to help K. get set up, and just being complete twunts. I was trying to figure out what the deal was, and then in overhearing their conversation found out they were all bartenders from the westside. Their kind usually don't make it over to the eastside establishments.

There has been on ongoing discussion in a couple of the Portland blogs about tipping and treating service industry people with a modicum of respect. What I don't understand is bartenders going to other people's bars and acting like assholes to the barstaff. It's pretty much a given if you complain about your drinks not being strong enough they are just going to get weaker. If you grab the barback who barely speaks english, and tell him to "fix my drink, this one isn't good enough" while the bartender is in back getting ice, he'll do it, but he'll also tell the bartender in spanish exactly what you did. You would think these people would know this and act accordingly.

I don't know if they are frustrated with having to serve the bitchy westside women who get drunk on two appletinis, or whatever the latest trendy drink is, and then go skin surfing in their Manolo Blahnik's once they're out the door. It also may be a heightened sense of self-worth when these women sit and flirt with them, or their husbands flirt with them in a desperate attempt to see if all the botox, facelifts, bulimia, hairplugs, etc. are achieving the desired effect.

This is not a common occurance. The Portland service community is very supportive, and normally bartenders are going to be some of the better tippers, and treat their fellow bartenders with the respect they deserve. For some reason it just seems that a small group of self-involved jerks seem to choose Aztec. I can't tell if it's because it's sort of an upscale bar that doesn't take itself too seriously, or that it's just on the eastside of town. I've seen the same type of person knock over an ashtray, breaking it and spilling cigarette butts all over the floor, and tell the bartender they need to stop what they're doing and clean up the mess. I've seen them bring an almost completely empty giant margarita to the bar and inform the bartender that there wasn't enough alcohol in the drink and they want a refund. It's truly appaling. I have had to mouth off to some of these idiots because the bartenders can't say or do anything about it.

My whole point is treat your fellow bartenders with some respect. If you are a customer, and you're sitting watching any of this type of behavior, call them on it. So what if they give you a dirty look or tell you to mind your own business. I can tell you that the majority of these people are not regulars, and the bartender is not going to be upset if they lose this person's business. You might even get a free shot out of the deal from the other customers who are just trying to enjoy themselves and don't want to put up with a bunch of bratty behavior. Also, just because someone kisses your ass trying to get free drinks or your phone number you aren't a god or a goddess, you are a bartender, so show some respect to your brethren.

I'm Expanding My Horizons

I broke down and set up a MySpace account with my portfolio, and links to my oddball friends. The address is www.myspace.com/kymb44. You have to have an account to tap into the pictures.

I've also started blogging on Metroblogging Portland http://portland.metblogs.com so I can instantly receive insults when I post items. I'm actually trying to be mellow on my posts, but now the gauntlet has been thrown down. I'm Kai.

Hurl some insults or smarmy comments my way if you find something that strikes a nerve.

Hey and to the person who reviewed my blog, that's not me in the hat. My beard is much more grown in.

Time is a Relative Thing

I love Portland dearly, and feel very fortunate to have the amazing group of friends, acquaintances, associates, and family I have in this lovely city.

However, the concept of time seems to have different rules in this town. I know there is "Island Time" in Jamaica, and "Down-Time" when you're vacationing, but I haven't come up with a really good definition of what I call "Portland Time."

If someone says they are going to meet you at 9:00pm, this can translate into 9:20pm if you have specific plans, 10:00pm - 10:30pm if they are coming over to just "hang out", and even later depending on what they do for a living.

There are variables to this equation. If you are waiting on a musician who is coming over "after practice" at 9:00pm, add two, three or four hours to the time they will actually call or text you to see if you're still up for getting together. If they text or call and tell you they have to go "meet up with some friends", or "go run an errand" then you may as well forget it. You're fucked.

The same applies if you are waiting for a friend to hook you up with some treats. If you have plans for the evening, and are waiting on them to call or show up, the equation is: "how messed up are they?" + "how desperate are you?" + "how well do you know this person?" = when they call and/or show up.

If your friend is going through some problems with their ex, and says they really need to talk with you, but are going to just stop by and pick up a few things from the ex's place, you will not be seeing them that evening. They will be having make-up sex.

If you get a phone call from your ex at 2:30am or 3:00am, and they just happened to break up with the person they left you for and they really need to talk to you if you're awake, and they still love you and it was such a big mistake, and they'll be over soon. It will be about 10 minutes. They are either just around the block, or in a cab on their way over after the bars have closed and they've been kicked out.

If they have turned into your own personal stalker it will be 2 minutes. That is if you are stupid enough to answer their call/text after the 20th time in one night. They have been hiding in the bushes all night or sitting across the street with binoculars to see whether or not you are seeing that person they always knew you secretly liked and wouldn't admit to.

The hardest phrase to define time-wise is "I'll call you" or "I'll check out your website and e-mail you." This is basically a brush-off. Not always, but usually yes, it is. It can come as a result of hitting the bar after you hit that other bar and had so much fun with your friends, but you are too drunk and the bartender won't serve you, so if you go to another bar across town they won't be able to tell how wasted you are, and you think you're doing great because you just beat all these guys at pool, and you think you are fabulous, and you give out your business card and tell them to check out your "MySpasch Page", wait, no, my blogspace, wait, here I'll write it down, where's my damn pen, ow, I just hit my head. And then proceed to walk home after falling in a puddle on the way out. They won't call or e-mail you. They will wake-up in the morning and either: figure out that you won't even remember who they are the next day, so why bother; are actually whoring around on their girlfriend and don't want to be caught trying to follow-through with someone; or figured out that you are a complete circus freak and won't even acknowledge that they met you in the first place if they happen to run into you in public.

So far this is what I've learned. I know there's more variations on the theme, especially when the relationship becomes more complex with the person giving you a time. I've learned that "ish" is probably the best you'll get with a close friend, brother or sister. "Where have you been, I've been calling your cell number and you aren't responding? YES it's only been five minutes but I was sure that something happened to you on the way over. What do you mean you're out of cell minutes? How could you be out of cell minutes? Didn't I just give you a top-up card for Christmas? I don't care if it's March." is what you'll hear from your mom if you are more than two minutes late to "just meet for coffee or something while we're in town."