this old thing? I'm at zacbenjamin.com these days. The site over there is powered by Tumblr and while I mean no offense to Google, Tumblr is light years ahead. I love a good race though!

What a day yesterday! It was my favorite kind of day. All kinds of activities lined up, but spread out in such a way that I was never rushing. A perfect day in a way. It certainly almost never works out so well, or for so cheaply. There's little to no substance to this post, but I felt like archiving the memory of it anyway.



I woke up early, made pancakes, cleaned my room, did a load of laundry and walked to Sound Grounds for a cup of coffee because I forgot to bring some home from work on Friday. Came home, took a shower, at some lunch. Got a call from Ben saying his 12pm show was canceled but that he and his drummer, Dan, would be up for shooting some video. The plan was too meet in Industrial Southeast in a of couple hours.

I charged my camera, packed my bag, hopped on my bike and cruised down to the waterfront. On the way there I stopped in a multimedia gallery on Ankeny that was so-so and then took the Burnside Bridge over the river and then cruised up Flanders, (dreaming of a new bridge over 405, of course). Strolled around the Pearl for a little while and stopped in 3 more galleries.

Some of the art work there was really stunning, some of it fell flat, some I didn't understand, and those were my favorite pieces. Walked around some more, just kind of people watching, stopped in a shop called Urban Edge I think, hoping to find a cool hat. Spent less than 30 seconds in there. It was almost comically not the place for me: it was wall to wall denim and jewelry, occupied by muscle bound cubes for men. I would not have been surprised to see the block lined with modified Honda's all roaring their engines. Anyway, the artwork... some of it cost up words of 15 grand and the pieces ranged all the way up to 36 square feet. Not really my style. There was a cool video installation though, designed in such a way that you could sort of walk into the projected video. I did see some smaller pieces that I really dug. And I found an exquisite art book that I think I may go back and get, to be used as birthday gift for a certain twinny someone.

I get back to my bike, coast all the way down Everett and cruise down the waterfront to the Hawthorne Bridge. Easily hundreds of people, probably thousands, just meandering along, enjoying the brilliant weather. When the weather gets nice around here, people just lose their minds. Or at least, I imagine them doing so. Its not at all an uncommon experience for me to get chills, actually tingling chills at how beautiful this city can be at its brightest. The fog, the rain, the green everywhere... its lovely in a quieter way, too. But spring hits and everything just feel electric.

So I get back over to the eastside, sneak behind OMSI, and lock up near Genie's Cafe. There's a standard little coffeeshop nearby and I go in and get a yogurt parfait. I talked with the woman behind the counter about employer/employee relationships. I have no idea how that started.

Three minutes later the bus rolls up and Ben and Dan hop out. We walk around looking for some interesting train tracks to film them playing on and around. Run into Dave and his friend, visiting from out of town. Chat for a minute, then head over to a short series of rail cars parked and locked down on the dead end of some tracks. Looks a lot like people actually lived in there, not so much squatter style, but more formally. They even had a recycling bin outside. We decide to film there for a while. There are tons of families and friends biking over to the Springwater Corridor and many let out supportive hoots and hollers for Ben and Dan, rocking out dust bowl style, dressed the part, in front of the old train. The video is gonna kick ass.

We meander up the tracks and film a whole bunch more. Lots of good stuff. The video is coming soon. Its been some hours and we head back to where we started. Ramon had passed on word of a show at Muddy Waters that started soon so I headed home to drop off my bag and gear. Made some soup and slurped it down. Headed over to the show, just a few blocks away and it was PACKED. I had no idea. Dustin & Friends put on a great show, a young lady bought me a beer, and I spent some time talking to a middle aged woman about the vibrant religious community in Portland. The show ended and friends are hungry and after some deliberation and a little trial and error, the chosen restaurant is settled upon. I had a play to go to at 8 so I just checked out the menu and headed over to the theatre on Hawthorne and 43rd.

The play was called, "The Garden Party" and it was technically marvelous, but otherwise fell flat for me. The actors were reciting these vast, repetitive monologues at incredibly high speed. I couldn't keep up, much less follow along. Still, I'm glad I went. And bonus: it was opening weekend, so the show was free, provided your RSVP'd ahead of time.

I got home from the show, talked to Damian and Natalie for a bit and got a text from Ramon. He and Company were at North Bar, a place for which I am fond because its smoke free and the bartenders are chill. I hemmed and hawed for a bit before deciding to head over there. It had been a long day!

The other thing I really like about North Bar is the bike ride there and back. 49th ave between Hawthorne and Division is this tiny little narrow one way and the sense of speed one attains is exhilarating. They also have a really great trivia night.

Alexis and Mark were there, along with Christy and of course Ramon. Rachel came a bit later. It was fun and jovial and suddenly political and suddenly perverted and just a solid little evening. Alexis and Mark left after an hour or so and the group discussion fractured into two conversations that both ended on a pleasantly similar topic. A dandy little coincidence.

I biked home at breakneck speed beneath a clear starry sky, my bike felt solid and dependable and the music, LCD Soundsystem's "Someone Great" matched the length and mood of my ride with near perfect precision. I got home sometime after one, edited some video for a couple hours and slept until about an hour ago.

It certainly doesn't happen regularly, but some days its like the stars align and every angle of my being rests on sparks and timeless kindling.

I awoke this morning tense. Must have fallen asleep before 9pm the evening before, spent the whole night waking up and trying to go back to sleep. Had a decent day at work and a decent day overall. You know: The Usual.

I thought about cars today. Not really cars, the polluters. Or cars, the metal street hogs. Not even cars, the identity symbol. Instead of all that, I thought about cars, the comfort space.

There's this cozy bubble I know well. Encased each day as I am, delivery driving that big loud van, boxes of this and that going here and there, its easy to look forward to all that control. Heat or a/c, fast or mozying, stereo up, stereo down. New song. Same song. When I'm among all the blank faces on the highway, that sense of control is crucial. And when cruising through the city, there's a mood I can set for myself. The right song, at the right moment, the window rolled down the right amount. Perfect!

And then there's getting to and from work. There's my life on a bicycle, my life outside of work.

There are days when I really have to pedal hard to and from anywhere. Maybe its drizzling, maybe its a beautiful day, maybe I don't notice one way or the other. Maybe I had a great nights sleep and a spot on breakfast. Maybe it was hell all night and an empty cupboard at sunrise. Doesn't seem to matter all that much. Sometimes that 2.24 mile bike ride into work is effortless and sometimes its really hard work.

In the space of an average weekday - the ride to work, the driving all day, and the ride home - its hard to come to any sense of phrasing, any kind of movement. In the space of a day, its hard to parse out any truth at all.

But over the weeks and months I start to really appreciate those effortless days, riding into work. I see some of the same people each day; I exchange hello's with a few of them. And those sluggish days in, however frequent, just dissipate as soon as I get to work. Sometimes its really cold and my hands hurt. Sometimes its pouring rain and I forgot a fresh pair of socks. Sometimes its so beautiful I can barely stand it and I can't ride fast enough and I feel especially alive.

But driving that van everyday is exactly the same. The same battle for a good song, the same battle for a parking space, the same sad faces battling the congestion, the same battle someone is fighting for all that oil. Its a mechanical battle from top to bottom.

By the poetry of the bicycle, the combustion engine feels like a bad joke, running on too long.

And there's this settling kind of comfort found in, well, discomfort. Being alone with where I've taken my life, feeling singled out by the elements or just down on my luck... everyone feels these things. We work to hold them back, to banish them to someplace else, at least as far as the back seat. But comfort is the devil in us all.

So today, my own private earth day, as truly everyday is for each of us, I choose discomfort.

Walking back from the Horse Brass with the roommates last night amid a cloud of second hand smoke and cracks in the sidewalk, the conversation still rolling, Natalie says, "When I was little I wanted to be an astronomer."

I say, "I wanted to be an astronaut," to which she replies, "We would have still been friends!"

Pete wanted to be a cop. Damian wanted to be a sailor. We all start to walk into the convenience store.

Natalie takes a look at the potted plants still out for sale, though its 10pm. She says, "OOOoooOO!"

I say, "You shut your mouth," to which Pete replies, "You better run!"

Natalie swings at me, but misses and I run home.





Oh, Portland.

Headphones are mostly right and always close to my head,
Drum beats inside, stiff limbs out,
Sound that I love, stay close,
Charm me, bore me, be a woman.
Charm me, charm me, charm me, be a woman.

Tears are how you know you exist,
Watery eyes, salty, floor-doomed, torrential tears that I love,
You're always hugging the eyeballs of the lonely,
When things are falling.
Unlock me, unlock me, unlock me, be a woman.

We're drifting against the tide without effort,
We're singing silence with wind in our ears,
In an act of balance that resembles the birth canal or something else also too often bypassed.
Birth me, birth me, birth me, be a woman when you're ready,
Just a girl until then.

Lonely, lonely, lonely be a woman near my arms,
Struggle with you're haircut and kink you're lovely neck,
Leave me, leave me, leave me, be a woman that I love.

Headphones are mostly right and opposite my pulse.
Drum beat that I know, silent by the twinkling piano keys gone almost missing
Into my ears and out of my eyes, reflecting starlight,
Drifting, drifting, drifting.
Be a woman.

Spurred on by the immense pleasure I took in reading "Proust Was A Neuroscientist" by Jonathon Lehrer, I picked up a couple more books on the subject of neuroscience.

Right now I'm in the thick of "A Universe of Consciousness: How Matter Becomes Imagination." Its deeply fascinating. I find myself giggling aloud at some of the insights relayed by the book's two authors. Consider this fun little nugget:

"If we considered the number of possible neural circuits [in the cerebral cortex], we would be dealing with hyperastronomical numbers: 10 followed by at least a million zeroes. (There are 10 followed by 79 zeroes, give or take a few, of particles in the known universe.)"

My faux-poetic translation: The vastness inside your head rivals the vastness of the Universe.

Also, I'm really enjoying reading something so decidedly less pop-science-y. (I mean, Steven Johnson, Bill Bryson, etc is fun but sometimes mindless.)

The Portland Fiction Project's Debut Reading Event is happening this Saturday. All of the current Portland Fiction Project authors will read their favorite stories. The Fall Colors(myspace.com/fallcolorstheband) will play. Worksound is exhibiting "Accoutre: Collection of Works by 10 Female Artists of PDX and San Francisco/"

Details:
WorkSound Gallery, 820 SouthEAST Alder
Doors Open at 7:30. Cocktails Available, Reading and Music Performances start no later than 8:15.
Cost: $3/2 Students.(Put yourself on the Guestlist below and get in for a dollar.)