“Becky! Becky?” A girl with large silver sunglasses approaches my table. “Oh, you look just like my friend -- oops!”
It was definitely autumn. Variable leaves of purple persuasions were swirling around my worn blue sneakers at the coffeeshop on Killingsworth. After buying a birthday present at the vintage shop across the street I decided I needed a cup of something or other.
Just a couple hours earlier, I had been sitting in the dark. I called my boss and left a message.
“Hey. . . just me. Power’s out in the shop and on the whole block, looks like. Don’t know when it’ll come back, guess we’ll have to wait and see. Just wanted to let you know. Bye!”
Without any of the computers working, it looked like I could be sitting in the dark alone for the rest of the afternoon. A definite chill. Is electricity warming?
A dark-haired young guy parks his bike next to the cockeyed signboard, porcupine screws sticking every which way. He comes in.
“Hi! Our power is out,” I say in my most cheerful warning voice.
“Yes, I know, I just want to ask you a few questions.”
“Sure.”
“I am from Brazil and I want to ship some things home to my mother.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Oh, you know. This and that.”
“Right.”
“So, can you tell me how much it will cost?”
“Well, the thing is. . . it really depends on the size and weight of the package.”
“Yes, yes, I see. But, generally. Can you give me an idea?”
“Mmm. . . normally, I could give you a quote, but because the power is out, I. . .”
“But, in general. . .”
I clear my throat, hoping it will make a point. It doesn't.
“It’s really hard to say.”
The phone rings. Thank God. My boss. “Hey, can you do me a favor?”
“Mmm, sure.”
“Could you take everything out of the fridge and stuff a bunch of paper towels in there?”
“Yeah, okay.”
There’s only a few things in the mini-fridge-- a jar of pickles, horseradish mustard, a tupperware full of wontons, and a can of soda (mine).
Five minutes later, my boss bursts in.
“They’re giving away free melons at the co-op!”
“Oh, yeah? Did you get one?”
“No, I don’t eat fruit. I’ve told you that before, I’m sure.”
Sometimes I wonder.
Local goats butting heads about politics at Extracto,
the best coffeeshop in Portland, Oregon, and possibly the entire world
"I was thinking of you today, because for some odd reason, I got in a long conversation with my co-worker about acting. He was saying how he always wanted to take an acting class, but never had the chance, so he was wondering what it was like. . . and I was talking about how there are lots of different types of acting teachers, and how one acting teacher's method of teaching might help one student, but not another--- so how when I taught acting, I tried to use different methodologies in each class. My co-worker was really into karate, and the movement technique in martial arts when he was younger, so he wondered if acting was mostly movement/physically based, and I was saying how, in my opinion it is very physical, but at the same time how you can do everything "correctly" and not be believable, so there is that "x" factor that is more of a mental leap than anything, and a certain technique often helps a person get there. (Although, truly, I think that eventually an good actor develops their own technique, and method to get them to that place, and then you get to a point where "a method" falls out the window, and you just do things intrinsically . . . whatever works.)"
I went to the islands with a blank notebook now overflowing
spent days with local people,
Germans, Italians, Austrians, Spanairds
lounging around all day in teal water at white beaches so bright you want to cry or sing or both
snorkelling with sharks, getting drenched in downpours, eating more roti canai than a person should
now, on my way home, I realize that this is my favorite time of year, following a dark season of the soul, I open my eyes and see a new star twinkling, laughing above me
lost in a daydream, I remember a year ago
a decision to change
the river's course forever
all exciting and new, scary
and feeling lost, I went toward the one thing that moved me
