Category: General

Tonight I am feeling mellow and nostalgic. As much practice as I’ve taken over the years with reading and writing and re-writing and trying to tell stories, I don’t know that I have the ability or skill with which to convey the feeling I’m feeling right now, to anyone willing to listen. Despite that, I have to write tonight, and this is the topic.

Went out for Taco Tuesday with my friend Terry and he was in a good mood. After we had our fill of tacos, I let him talk me into driving to a dessert place, Lauretta Jean’s, over on SE Division, for pie. I know that too much sugar lately will literally make my body ache in various ways, but I still can’t resist. That’s what addiction is, I guess. 

On the drive over there (we took Terry’s car), he was playing, of all things, some of the musical hits of Earth, Wind, & Fire. Some funk/disco. Normally I get a bit grumpy, but the whiskey warmed my belly and my soul just a tiny bit, and I fell into the melodies and danced in my seat. We sang along—me, as best I could; Terry easily hitting the higher notes—as we drove through the sodium-lit streets of inner Southeast Portland. My favorite neighborhoods.

It was just what I needed. At the pie place, I ordered a slice of bourbon pecan (with whipped cream); Terry got a pear streusel and mocha. 

Earlier today, I had been listening to an episode of the podcast You Are Not So Smart, this one titled “The Friendship Cure,” in which the host interviews a scientist who has studied the effects of friendship on human lives. The conversation ranged over a wide variety of topics, but one, in particular, held my attention: the relative distance and emptiness of most male friendships. Men in our culture are never encouraged towards intimacy, for various social reasons. However, the scientist and the host did mention one of the best fictional male friendships ever (and I could not agree more): JD and Turk, on the TV show “Scrubs.” 

JD and Turk shared a warm, close, and, most importantly, funny friendship, the likes of which are rarely seen in fiction or in life. Sure, they caught some shit for it from other men on the show; but it never stopped them from being the best of friends to and with each other. 

Terry and I are like that. We are not romantic partners. Both of us are not inclined that way at all, not towards each other. But we have known each other for a very long time, through good times and bad, and we are comfortable being our truest, most authentic selves with each other. 

Neither of us is perfect, but, to paraphrase the words of the scientist on the podcast whose name I can’t recall right now, we allow space for our flaws, as well as our strengths. 

After he drove me back to my car and we goofed around and then said our goodnights, I got in my car for the drive back to my personal Tatooine (which is, in itself, a reference to both nostalgia and a shared experience with Terry, that of seeing Star Wars together when we were kids.) Instead of more podcasts, I opened up Spotify and found a playlist of hits from 1983, the year we graduated from high school, and then I let those songs stoke my feelings and memories of being young and dumb. 

In my head, as I sometimes do, I imagined meeting younger me and asking him how he was doing, and try to let him know how life was going to turn out for him. I don’t think he could possibly have foreseen the paths life would take him, but I do firmly believe he would still recognize himself in the 54-year-old Brian who stood before him. I still have his sardonic but somehow sincere humor. We share a curiosity about lives and people who are not ourselves. And inside both of us hides a deep sadness about the limitations imposed on us by living in the physical world.  

Dancing and singing to songs from my youth as I navigated the streets to my apartment, on a dark autumn night, I felt the pull of all three of those emotions, overlaid with the joy of having made it this far, and knowing that there is a least a bit more story left to tell.

I’ll leave you with this last tidbit, a message from 18-year-old and 54-year-old me:

Mama say, mama saw, mama koo saw.

Goodnight, dear reader. 

Just a quick post tonight because it’s late and I don’t have it in me to write something more in-depth. I’ve gotten good at making tacos for dinner. Turns out it’s super easy to do! Just one main ingredient, plus some condiments, and it’s filling and delicious. And I can make the perfect servings for eating solo.

Tonight it was steak tacos. I’m starting at an advantage because I keep a bunch of stuff on hand: I always have corn tortillas, for example. I buy a lot, and they keep forever.

I have a bunch of spices: coriander (in Spanish it’s cumin), chili powder, hot chili powder, oregano. Sea salt and black pepper.

I always have some fresh garlic and white onion in my drawer (they keep better if you keep them in a dark, cool place.)

Another helpful ingredient is a 2 lb bag of shredded cheese. Again, it doesn’t go bad very fast at all, and it’s excellent for garnishing just about anything I cook. Like, say, tacos!

When I go grocery shopping, I always buy some thin-cut steak for carnitas and a bag of frozen chicken breasts. The chicken comes in a zipper bag; I can pull out one or two breasts at a time; I can even cook them from frozen, if I have forgotten to thaw some out, and I haven’t been able to tell the difference.

The steak I package up into 3-4 slices per bag and toss them all in the freezer. This morning, before I left for work, I took one bag of the steak out of the freezer and let it thaw out in the fridge while I was at work.

On the way home, I stopped to get some sour cream, a bunch of fresh cilantro, and an orange bell pepper. When I got home, I realized I had a Roma tomato that was still good. I pulled the steak out of the fridge to warm up (beef cooks better when it’s at room temperature) and then spent the first hour washing, chopping, and slicing all the vegetables and getting them ready.

When the vegetables were ready, I used my cleaver to cut the steak into strips, against the grain (makes the bites easier to chew). Next, I heated my wok very hot (on the 1–8 scale, I turned my electric stove up to 6 1/2—you want the wok hot) with two tablespoons of olive oil (non-virgin, since I was going to be stir-frying.) As soon as the oil started to smoke a little, I dropped in the chopped white onion and some chopped garlic cloves and stirred until they were beginning to turn translucent. Then I added in the steak strips.

I cooked that whole mixture until the steak was starting to brown, then pulled out the steak and let it rest on a plate. While it was resting, I added in the bell pepper and some spices (cumin, chili powder, oregano, salt, and pepper) with the remaining oil, garlic, onions, tossed in some fresh chopped cilantro and mixed it all up on medium heat.

That’s when I added the steak back to the wok, and mixed it all around to let the flavors soak in.

I turned the heat down to low, then put a bunch of tortillas in the warmer with some damp paper towels, and heated them in the microwave, 30 seconds at a time until they were warm and pliable.

At that point, it was just a matter of assembling the tacos. Tortillas, some meat, then add on some chopped tomato, some chopped onion, shredded cheese, sour cream, and a sprinkling of chopped cilantro, and settled down to watch some TV with delicious tacos!

I have already written 1200 words tonight, but I’m not going to post those, because it felt a bit too personal. I’m saving them, though, and they totally count for my daily writing project. 

Look, I did warn you that the goal is writing, not posting. Don’t look at me like that. 

I don’t want to break my habit of daily posting, though, so here’s a little something to keep that streak going.

I can’t hear the song “Pink Houses” by John Cougar Mellencamp without hearing Mr. Cougar Mellencamp growl, “And then we paint the mutha pink.” It’s just something I remember from wayyyyy back in the day on MTV, back when MTV was cool and played lots of music videos and also had great contests. 

Me and Val were sitting in the office today and listening to Spotify and “Pink Houses” came on, and even though each of us were deep in our own work, I growled out, “And then we paint the mutha pink,” just because. 

Val looked at me like I’d grown a second head, and I laughed, and tried to explain that it was from a long-ago commercial. Then I went a-googling, and sure enough, I found this ancient cultural artifact from the long-ago time of 1984. Watch, and reflect on how very different the world was back then.

I’d watch that at my girlfriend’s house (because my dad refused to pay for TV, so we did not get cable for a long time. My mom finally just called the cable company and made an appointment to have it installed, a few years after that, making an end-run around my father’s financially-motivated Luddism.) and I’d laugh. But who would want to live in Indiana?

I am 100% certain I entered that contest. Sadly, I did not win. I probably only sent, like, one postcard. It cost a stamp, which was $0.20 back then, which, honestly, even then was a bargain. Not sure if that was before the Republicans decided to kill the US Postal Service or not. It was the Reagan years, though, so likely so.

Anyway, enjoy imagining what your humble writer looked like back in the era of big hair and New Wave. No photos of me from then have survived. NONE. I SWEAR IT. NO, DON’T GO LOOKING CAN’T YOU TAKE MY WORD FOR IT?

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A post shared by Limelight Restaurant & Lounge (@limelightloungepdx) on Sep 1, 2019 at 8:23pm PDT

I love the Limelight Restaurant. I’ve been going there for good diner food forever. What the Hell?! It’s been in existence for 20 years! I assumed it was older than that. In that case, I can confidently say that I’ve been eating there since they opened.

In 1999 I started my job at Multnomah County after having moved back to Portland from my failed experiment in Austin, Texas, trying to get hired as a “white badge” (non-contractor) at Apple. From the early days, I remember two exceptional menu items: the black bean salad, and the Santa Fe chicken sandwich, both of which reminded me, faintly, of the food in Austin. Portland versions of the food. A mere shadow of the fantastic Texas food. I digress.

The black bean salad was a green salad but included corn, black beans, tortilla chips, chicken, salsa, and sour cream. The echo was of a much better salad I would often buy at a shopping mall in Austin. When I saw it on the menu at the Limelight, I had to order it, and it became a favorite item for me. At some point, though, Limelight staff dropped it from the menu, and it has not returned, more’s the pity.

The Santa Fe chicken sandwich is still on the menu, although it has changed over the years. In its original form, it was served on a kaiser roll, with a spicy green chili sauce and pepper jack cheese on the chicken slices. So good. I would always (and still to this day) order it with a side of ranch dressing to dip it in. The roll had a hard outer crust that made biting into one a sensory delight. The modern version of it has a much more pedestrian roll, and the sauce has lost its boldness. It’s still a good sandwich, no longer a superior one.

Technically the Limelight has a restaurant side, and a lounge side, with different ambiances. The restaurant side is pure American diner, with deep booths and a couple of great window tables you can use for people-watching. Situated as it is right next to the Moreland Theater, an independently-owned, single-screen neighborhood movie house, there are times when I can gaze at the foot traffic in and out of the theater under the neon marquee, for an hour or more. 

There’s even a shuffleboard table along one wall. I have never played it.

The restaurant side is family-friendly, open and inviting, a big space for lively conversations and kids running around underfoot.

The lounge side is a windowless brick basement (even though it is not underground, merely next door), with one section of tables slightly raised by one step, several tall round tables near the tiny (but clean!) bathrooms, and two pool tables in the very darkest back corner. 

There are a few TVs scattered around, and a tiny lottery machine nook right up front by the door. The atmosphere here is cozy, and the mood can either be summed up by a group of regulars huddled at the bar reminiscing, or a crowded weekend night with no standing room at all.

The wait staff is consistently competent and charming, and they pour stiff drinks—at least for me. Can’t speak to anyone else’s experience. The ones who have been there longer know me by my name and can generally guess what I’m going to order: if it’s Tuesday they realize I want tacos (their Tuesday special tacos are terrific and cheap.) 

I am glad The Limelight is there. It is one of the places that makes Sellwood feel like home to me. I love it very much.

I’m really sleepy right now. After I finish my 500–1000 words, I’m headed straight to bed, where I will probably fuck around on my phone for an hour before turning off the internet, rolling over, and going to sleep later than I probably should for what time I have to be at work. 

Or as I like to call it, “the usual evening.” 

I got a physical exam from a doctor today. Been worried about several different sets of symptoms and wanted to get a baseline measurement. Blood work and everything. I even got a flu shot! And it cost me nothing out-of-pocket; I have good insurance. I am lucky to have good insurance; that’s not a given in America for people of my class (working class—the class that doesn’t own capital and has to trade labor for our living needs.) 

My family has a saying: “There are two people in your life who gets the whole, unvarnished truth. Your doctor and your lawyer.” And I put that into practice today. I ran down everything physical and mental I have been feeling lately, and he took it all in, processed it with his decades of education and experience, and gave me some simple courses of action. It was probably the most efficient doctor’s visit I have ever had. I liked that.

He calmed my worst fears but didn’t let me neglect some more reasonable concerns. And there’s more to come: the blood tests will come back tomorrow, and there is more about my body, my aging, uncultivated body, to learn. 

I was worried about what I might find out. That’s my inner child, scared of the unknown, with a bright mind that’s been turned up too hot, reacting to shapeless afflictions of what might be. Of course, the Inner Negative Voice is also stoking those fears, making things worse. My anxiety was on high alert today.

My rational brain (and my closest friends) were all quick to remind me that knowing what’s going on is better. It shines a light into the darkness. I can’t address and fix what I don’t know, so I have to know it first. 

In the end, today, my rational brain won because I went in, unloaded all of my worries, and have a plan to deal with it.

I’m not going to post any specifics here. But don’t worry too much, it’s just a list of the common things a 54-year-old man who drinks heavily when he drinks, eats whatever the fuck he wants, and only really exercised for a brief ten year period almost a decade ago, has to face—simple stuff. 

My shoulder is sore from the flu shot and tetanus booster shots. My eyes are closing from the stress and come-down from stress. My stomach is rumbling because I didn’t eat much at all today, for various reasons.

But as my doctor reminded me: I have been healthy all my life, with no surgeries, no illnesses, no conditions. And every concern I have at this moment are things that can be addressed with small lifestyle changes. He suggested I start running again, for instance. He damn near insisted. Regular exercise is good for me (although he sarcastically said that running a marathon is probably “going too far.”) 

I’ve been OK. 

I am OK. 

I’m going to be OK. 

Weekends are too short. It’s a pity. I’m typing this out late in the afternoon on Sunday, thinking about what I’ve done this weekend, and it does not seem like enough. 

I blogged yesterday about all my running around I did to that point. After posting that, I mostly watched TV. Caught up on The Good Place, watched ContraPoints’ newest video (I love her channel), then finished up the night by finding out what happened to Jesse Pinkman. 

Today you can add a few more odds and ends of spending (but that’s not what this post is about), and some more running around: I went to Baja Fresh, Target, the Dollar Tree, and Fred Meyers. At home, I also made breakfast, did a couple of loads of laundry, did the dishes, and moved this very blog to SiteGround.com. 

SiteGround seems great, but it’s been less than 24 hours, haha sigh. The migration went very smoothly, and I’ve been able to tweak some things behind-the-scenes to make the site better. F’rinstance, you may have noticed that bamoon.com automatically redirects to https; that was a free feature at SiteGround, where my previous host charged a lot of money for it. 

I’ve listened to a couple of podcasts, mostly from The Incomparable network. I tried to polish my Green Lantern ring and have only succeeded in making it more tarnished; I guess it was a cheap ring, and not genuinely sterling silver after all, sadly.

Made my bed using clean sheets. I love clean sheets, which is why I make my bed often. There’s nothing like climbing into bed with clean sheets. Best feeling.

But… is that it? Is that all I have to show for this weekend? 

I have blogged daily, adding to my streak and my word count. That’s not nothing. That counts.

I’ve joked and laughed with my friends, primarily through text messages. That is also a good thing, though I miss all of their (your!) faces. I want to see you all soon and often.

I reached out to my dad but have not heard back. He’s probably busy driving passengers around for Uber. Weekends are his peak times. He loves driving for Uber. Well, that’s not 100% accurate. He loves driving people around, telling them stories, and hearing their own stories. He loves being around people. It’s an excellent job for a retiree with a pension; he doesn’t need the money, but he craves social interaction. My dad is an extrovert, quite unlike me.

I gave plenty of pets to the tortoiseshell cat that roams around my apartment building. If she’s outside, she will always come over for pets. She’s got an owner; she wears a collar. She’s just a friendly cat. That was nice, though it makes me want a cat or two of my own. 

Does that seem like enough? I’ve checked more than a few things off my to-do list this weekend. But it feels… lacking. I want more. I want to feel accomplished. I want to feel proud of all I’ve achieved. Or, if I can’t feel that, I want to feel like I’ve built a foundation for future greatness. 

Maybe the blog stuff is that foundation. I can do more with my blog, and the new host offers unlimited email and domains, as well as a free email subscription list service I can set up. I can communicate more and better things going forward. I can move the Uncasting blog to my new host and build on that. I can find homes and projects for all those random domains I’ve bought over the years and to which I still hold on. 

I’ve got clean clothes for the week. I’ve got food in the fridge and a roof over my head and friends who love me and whom I love. I’ve got a job I mostly enjoy working with people I like, and it pays me enough to relax about paying my bills. 

Maybe that’s enough for now. Maybe so.

I’m trying not to spend money I don’t have to this weekend. Here, let me tell you what I’ve already spent money on, and you tell me how I’m doing on my goal.

Friday night, I met my friends for happy hour. I bought a HH burrito and two beers. With tip, that was $26.00. Maybe I could have eaten cheaper, perhaps I could have just gone home and eaten what was in my cupboards, but I did get to hang out with my friends for several hours.

Oh, I also paid my friend Ken back for a ticket he bought me to see Spoon at the Crystal Ballroom in December. $47.00. 

This morning I drove to Bertie Lou’s Cafe and got breakfast. Again, I could have eaten at home and saved on both food and the gas I used driving there, but I eat at home during the week, and I enjoy the ambiance.

I filled up my tank with the cheapest gas I could find in the area. It was $3.079/gallon, and my tank was nearly empty, so the total was $36.40. Why did gas go up? My last fill-up was exactly a week ago, and it was only $2.899/gallon. Did we piss off some oil-producing country or something? But with a full tank, I’ll be getting to and from work all week with some to spare. It’s a necessary purchase.

Then I drove to the Apple Store at Washington Square, for the sole purpose of seeing the new iPhone 11 Pro in person. I compared it to my current iPhone 7 in size. I already think my 7 is too big, but I also want to get a new phone, so I’m taunting myself by looking at the new phone. 

The 11 Pro is, indeed, larger in nearly every dimension from my current phone. It’s a little bit taller, a little bit wider, a little bit thicker, and significantly heavier. I was not prepared for how hefty it feels in hand. That’s a turn-off for me. The single selling point in its favor for me is the camera. The camera is very nice. I love the idea of zoom, Night Mode, and the whole camera upgrade.

I’m torn, though, on the size, as mentioned. Ugh. Why no small phones, Apple? Other drawbacks: Face ID seems more fiddly than Touch ID. I did not get a chance to try Face ID because these were demo phones. 

I’m neutral on the longer battery life; that’s a nice-to-have but not a must-have. My current phone mostly lasts my whole day, and it’s three years old. So I’m okay there.

In the end, I have not yet upgraded. So the only money I spent there was driving to the store. Then I drove across town again to Andy & Bax, a military surplus store. I wanted to price a Navy pea coat; I’m looking for a winter coat, my current one is long in the tooth, and I’ve fattened up to where it doesn’t quite fit me any longer. Alas, they did not have any pea coats in stock.

While I was there, I also tried on a pair of medium waist BDUs. I like wearing BDUs because they are super comfy, and they’re loaded with pockets. My current pairs are size Large, and they’re baggy on me. I hoped a Medium would fit better. Alas, also, the Medium is slightly too small. I could button the top button, but it was not comfortable: maybe if I lose a bit more weight. 

I left Andy & Bax without spending any money. The next stop was Red Castle Games, where I had a pre-order for a board game called Dune. It has not yet shipped, so I left without the boardgame I have already purchased.

Next, I arrived at WinCo. I picked up some breakfast foods, including basically a month’s worth of bacon and oatmeal, paper towels, frozen burritos, salsa, some spices (cinnamon, mmm (I spilled a bunch of cinnamon on myself and the counter at the bulk spices area))… I can’t recall what else I bought. Some almonds? A jar of aspirin? There had to be more; my tab there was $68.12. But I don’t remember what I got. Oh! Some black beans and some red beans and some canned chicken; those make super easy meals. And cans of diced green chilies and diced jalapenos. Anyway, I’m now well-stocked for food for the next month. I feel that it was a good purchase.

I got home and put the groceries away, and then started laundry. I paid for a month of CBS All Access because I want to watch the Short Trek episodes they’re dropping now. I will drop that after a month unless Star Trek Disco starts up soon. That month cost me $9.99 (the plan with no commercials).

By then, I realized that I had left my wallet in my pants. When I fished it out, I had the bright idea to try to dry the leather wallet in the microwave (I removed the cards and money first). Hey, if you ever have that idea, don’t follow through. The leather shrunk and curled up, and the wallet was ruined.

Bundling up my driver’s license and debit card with a rubber band, I drove to the nearby Ross Dress For Less, where I bought a new leather wallet for $10.99. That was a necessary purchase, and a reasonably frugal one—except that it was due to my negligence. I know how to score that one.

Lastly, I went to Fred Meyers and bought a big old bottle of hand soap. I’ve been out, and I just wanted to refill the bottles I have. I purchased the coconut smelling one. I like coconut. I also got a silver polishing cloth to polish my Green Lantern ring, which has tarnished, and severely. I got some cash back with my purchase, so the total at the self-serve register was $50.98, but $40 of that was cash. I then spent $3.00 on lottery tickets for tonights’ drawings. Y’know, dream a little. I’m never going to win, but dreaming what I would do if I did win is worth three bucks to me (as the Twitterers say: don’t @ me).

My total expenditures for this weekend come to $212.48. I’m mostly okay with that: the gas and food will definitely be used; the hand soap was also a pragmatic purchase. Eating out twice, and a concert in December, are entertainment purchases I did, and will, enjoy. The wallet was to fix a mistake I made. The lottery tickets won’t break me, and could also be considered an entertainment purchase. 

When I total it all up, though, it does seem more significant than I would have thought. Maybe keeping track is a good thing?

And also, seeing that I spent that much is a strong deterrent for me going to a strip club tonight.

Happy Hour with my friends tonight. My four best friends could all make it, and that makes me happy.

We were meeting at Kay’s Lounge, in Sellwood. It’s a classic old-school lounge, with comfy leather booths and a nicely-stocked bar and bar food that’s got that little somethin’ extra that pushes a burger or a burrito into artisanal territory. I don’t have words to describe it right now, probably because I’m still a little buzzed, but it’s a cut above normal bar food, but not so expensive it’s a Portlandia type joke.

I mean, I can’t say a lot of bad things about a bar where I had a food item named after me, but believe me, the food is good. Even the burgers have that little extra bit of care.

The taps at this bar are constantly rotating but there’s always at least one cider on tap, and at least one dark beer (a stout or a porter) and also, always something “interesting”, like a spicy porter or a fruity IPA or something otherwise unusual. They do a good job at Kay’s, picking out good beers. Only eight taps but you’re sure to find something you like among the choices.

Happy Hour on a Friday night is pretty much peak time, and let me tell you, the bar isn’t as big as it is popular. There are maybe 15 bar stools, and 10 booths for 2-4 people each; if you get there late you have to stand around and wait, or move on to somewhere less popular. Oh, and 4 tables outside on the sidewalk, where you are encouraged to share, but Portland weather patterns make those dicy about 70% of the time.

And even at peak time, like tonight, there’s one bartender, one waitstaff, and one cook, so be prepared to wait a bit for attention. Unless you’re a regular, like me, and you get recognized. Or you’re just not shy and go right up and ask when the next table is ready. Or a bit of both. I’ve done both.

I’ve been coming here for years and years. I did mention the Lunar Burger, right? It was tasty, I’ll give the cook that. I’m not yet regular enough to be immortalized in the big painting on the wall, the picture with a lot of staff and regular faces included. Maybe someday.

Former Governor of Oregon Barbara Roberts is a regular here. I’ve sat with her and had a chat. She’s great! Very knowledgeable and down-to-brass-tacks. Her face is in the painting, because, well, of course she is.

Tracy showed up tonight first. Usually, I’m the first one to arrive, but I got waylaid by work, so I was a bit late. Tracy stationed herself by the door, under the mirror, on the sidebar, which is not a great place to be noticed by the waitstaff or bartender. She’s a good person, but she just isn’t in tune with the rhythms of a working bar. When I showed up, I talked to her, and then (after hitting the restroom—it was a long drive from Canby) I leaned against the bar under the aforementioned painting, which is right in the path between the kitchen window, the cash register, and the wait station, which ensures that the waiter for the night (on this night it was Krissi) had to talk to me. Tracy joined me shortly after.

We waited there, with a drink in hand each, for a while. Happy Hour ends at 6 PM, and it was 5:50 PM before a table finally opened up. By that time, Ken had joined us, where we stood around, looking conspicuous, getting in Krissi’s way sometimes, and making “are you leaving yet?” eyes at everyone hogging a table. But a table finally emptied, and we aggressively but politely nudged our way in, where the evening entered its second phase.

We ordered food and settled in, and then Terry joined us, fresh from his Han Solo haircut. He said his hairdresser was both surprised and impressed when he requested a Han Solo haircut. “70s haircuts are coming back in style,” he said she said. And it’s true; Terry looks great in that haircut. She did a great job.

We talked about baseball (I don’t want to talk about it). We talked about building houses (that’s Terry’s thing). We asked Tracy about hockey (she’s a giant Winterhawks fan). We argued about the feminism of the Joker, and we admired the diversity of Nike. I’m only scratching the surface of our winding, continuous, and sprawling conversation.

But it was a happy night for me. I love my friends, and any chance I get to spend with them, with all of them, is a good time. I’ve known these three humans for a long time. We have all of us been through a lot together. None of us are perfect, but we are all perfectly ourselves.

It was a good night.

I wish you had been there.

My day job is computer support, which sounds complicated and possibly stressful. Wait, maybe I shouldn’t be assuming what it sounds like to you, my dear reader. I welcome your thoughts on what you think of when you hear someone say something like, “I do computer support for a living.” Is it based on TV or movies, where a young (or old) hoodie-wearing man, either impossibly thin or impossibly large sits in a darkened room, stares at a glowing computer screen, types out seemingly-random letters, and whispers

“I’m in.”

Is that what you’re thinking?

OK, sometimes it’s like that. I mean, my co-worker and I do prefer to keep our office very dark, with the blinds closed. Mostly that’s because she gets migraines. I just like it dark most of the time. And this morning, when I got in to the office, I had to try to troubleshoot a wireless access point across town remotely, with the help of another co-worker I was chatting with on Slack; so to anyone watching me, it looked like I was staring at a computer screen, in the dark, and typing random things on a screen, and cursing under my breath.

Oh, and yes, I was wearing a hoodie today. It gets cold in the office. I did have a collared shirt on under the hoodie (that’s the dress code, the entire dress code: “must wear a collared shirt.” It’s a somewhat relaxed dress code.)

But that was not what I ended up doing to fix the wifi. Well, it was the start of it. I had to configure a replacement access point, and then I had to drive across town to the fleet maintenance yard, climb up on a ladder, and swap the broken wifi with a new one. If you’re wondering, yes, I got my hands dirty. Also I ended up going up and down that stupid ladder, because it didn’t work right at first, and I kept having to go to a computer in the fleet manager’s office, where I remoted back to the server—oh gods, yes, I was typing random things into multiple windows on a computer screen while wearing a hoodie.

Of course, I whisper, “I’m in!” when I connect to something on the computer. I started doing it ironically at first, because Hollywood, and now I do it automatically.

I’m a godsdamned cliche. Fuck.

OK, but later in the day, I had to sit in a city-owned car for several hours, killing time while the in-car hard drive formatted itself into oblivion. I was mad at myself the entire time, more and more as it went on and on, because I chose “Full Format” instead of “Quick Format,” thinking that would fix the problem it was having. It did not solve the problem, and it remains not-solved.

Not-solved problems are a burr under my saddle, a constant low-level irritation. It’s why I do this job; I live for the happiness I feel when I can say, “I solved this!” and it works again. That’s my motivation. If I’m honest, I realize that the annoyance that things breaking gives me is required; before I can feel satisfaction, I have to have that motivating impact of stress. If things did not break, I could not do my job.

Thanks, computer makers, for making things that break a lot. Without you, I would have to find some other labor I could trade for housing, food, and health care!

It’s Sunday, and I’m house-sitting for my sister. She, her husband, and her mother-in-law live in a sprawling multi-level house on a bluff up in Portland’s West Hills. It’s got a fantastic view from a deck that’s probably about the same square footage as my whole apartment. It’s not the kind of house I’d buy, even if I could afford one like it, but it’s nice to visit sometimes. It’s a house that is well-suited to having lots of people come over.

Another feature of my sister’s place is Archer, the dog. He’s a medium dog, an English Setter (bred for birding and hunting). He’s curious, easily bored, generally mellow. He’s a Good Boy (they’re all Good Boys, Bront). Again, I don’t know that I’d have the temperament to own a dog and work with it all the time, but Archer is terrific company to visit sometimes.

Speaking for myself, I find some of the features of my sister’s house would not work for my habits. For instance, the living room is mostly open, and there are huge windows on two walls, and the corner between those walls is entirely glass bricks. The other wall has a fireplace. That is great if you like lots of natural light, which is fine. But it’s also where the TV is, and it’s not a room made for a dark, movie-theater-like experience when watching movies or TV shows.

My living room at home is dark, and the TV covers the one blank wall; my couch is lined up to the TV, making a bench. The couch is close to the TV, but that’s because my living area is narrow; the furniture lays along the long axis of the rectangle. I can’t separate the seating from the TV more without blocking the path to the kitchen. It’s not a big apartment.

I don’t mind my apartment’s small size. I have all the space I need. Would not mind it laid out a little less long and wide; a square footprint would be great; but for size, to hold all my stuff, it’s the right size. I’ve been there a year, and I could use more bookcases and books, but I’ve got my movie-watching room, my bedroom, my computer/library room, a bathroom and a half, a kitchen, and a dining room. Oh, and a little deck for when the sun is out, or I decide to get into gardening, or for doing projects like painting or sanding or sawing things.

I definitely would not have room for a dog the size of Archer. I want a cat or maybe a pair of cats, and for them, I have plenty of room. A small dog would fit, but I lean more towards liking cats; that’s just me.

If I suddenly had the money to buy or build a house, my ideal one would not look much different on the inside from my current apartment—two stories, not that many rooms. More square, as I said, to use the space better. Maybe a few more windows, but not near the room I use for entertainment, or if that couldn’t happen, heavy, light-blocking curtains floor-to-ceiling.

The significant changes I’d make to my current living situation is that it would be closer to a more walkable neighborhood, more centrally located, near bars and restaurants and grocery stores. Don’t need or want a big yard so that the house could fit on a small lot. If I were really loaded and were building it from scratch, I would wire the whole place with networking cables, and make it as energy-efficient as I could, and install solar power and storage batteries to try to live off the grid as much as I can. And I’d choose a high spot, for when the waters rise (and they are going to rise, even probably within my remaining lifetime).

None of that is going to happen soon, though. For now, it’s enough to visit other peoples’ houses, compare and contrast, and enjoy the differences.