All the leaves are brown, leaves are brown

It's a beautiful sunny day in Portland and I'm about to climb into an allergy pill. Sunny and warm and windy as hell. It seems like all of the musty summer goodness has been unearthed and is being shuttled around town by the pesky winds.

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Unexpectedly got the day off work. Woke up at 7am to feed Gus and then went back to bed. Slept until 9:45! It's been a nice little morning. So far my duties have included: Pet the dog, drink the coffee, play the guitar and search the internet for information on casting basalt - in order of most to least important.

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First day of ceramics was last night. Made a few things, including a tea pot that is part of a group project. This is a first in Kowkie's class. She had us make the parts, and then we'll pick different pieces from different peoples pots and assemble them. I think it's a pretty cool idea. Whatever I end up with, I think I'll try to recreate it for a real project.

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This week is the last week of summer before the term starts at PSU. I'm excited to start classes, and a little nervous too. This seasonal transition always hits me a little harder than the others. I remember most vividly this transition when I was a kid. I was always bummed that the light didn't last as long and that the air began to encourage layers. Meh. I'm glad that it's hot this week. One more week of driving in the jeep with the top and doors off, in relative comfort. This week also will see the sculpture club installing our first show at the MK Gallery on campus. I have a piece to include and as the date approaches, I'm noticing that I'm feeling nervous about my contribution. The word "anachronistic" keeps swimming around in my head. I've never shown a piece of sculpture outside of a classroom setting. I'm sure it will be fine. The chances of somebody looking at my work and then hitting or shooting me is pretty slim. It's not that good.

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Oh! I think I just heard something. . . yep, it was the dog park calling Gus. I'd better help him out with that.

Football season

Leaving the house today, I took note of the cool crisp air and the cold sunshine of early autumn. Now, sitting on my couch shivering, I'm cursing the change of season. Curse you cold weather, curse you!

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In Boise, growing up, we played a lot of football. We played in on the lawn of the apartment complex I lived in. As the sunshine grew colder and colder in the fall, the ground became harder and harder. Tackling one another became more and more painful until finally, we stopped playing football outside. The nice thing about the change of the season was that it signified a change in sport. I stopped playing football, and wrestling season began. That was always a significant change in temperature. The hot sweaty locker rooms, and dudes in sweats running for a couple of hours straight, meant a musty overheated den of testosterone and awkward youth. Nevertheless, after practice, it was back into the biting dry cold of Boise. I walked a couple of miles home. I wasn't a bad wrestler, but I never won a match. Walking home after matches, Boise seemed even colder.

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After high school I worked at a movie theater in Boise. Motorcycle was my primary form of transportation. One nice thing about Boise is that it is very dry, so sometimes you might make it a whole winter without the snow touching down in town. That meant that I could ride to work almost all winter. In the fall, I started bundling up, the helmet came out of the closet(right, I didn't wear a helmet in the summer) to keep the freezing wind off of my face. I would get off of work at 11pm or midnight, and ride home. I was too young to drink, and too poor for booze, anyway. In hindsight, it was pretty great.

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When I moved to Oregon, fall was something completely different. While the trees were bare in Boise; Oregon offered a kaleidoscope of golden red and brown autumnal bliss. Did I mention that psychedelics are so much easier to get in Oregon than in Idaho? The rain started falling and everything turned the most beautiful deep green I had seen in my life. I spent that first Fall in Eugene, driving around in my Saab with one tape, Built to Spill's teaser for Keep it Like A Secret. I think it has 4 songs, and Tiffani and I would drive around listening to the tape over and over again. Sometimes we would get coffee at Cafe Paradiso and listen to open mic. Other times, we'd grab pizza and eat it in her dorm. I don't remember specific events, but rather feelings and sensations that I attribute to the season as much as anything else.