duck-shaped pain

2000-08-16
Where I Return

I'm back, finally. It only took four days, but I managed to get my stuff, see a bunch of Oregon, and get along with my dad, who always comes completely unglued on such trips.

I have a lot to do, so this will be a short entry.

Some observations:

  • Oregonians will line up for hours to see anything, even a 9-foot-sturgeon and especially a cheese tour.

  • Salt Lake City: worse than previously mentioned. It took us two and a half hours to go 15 miles on the interstate through town.

  • The new Armpit of the Nation (beating the previous champion, Wells, Nevada, by a long shot) is Pendleton, Oregon. Now that I've had a chance to experience its pleasures, all I can say is: what a shithole.

  • Nice, free beaches don't attract anyone. Have a semi-nice beach and charge admission, people will show up droves.

  • I forgot how much I like not paying sales tax.

  • It feels wonderful to have all of my stuff back. I didn't miss all of it, but it's a relief to have my entire life in one place again. None of this transcontinental business for me again.


I hope you enjoyed the entries by my friend J. He rocked. Let's all thank him for rocking. [1]


More reports on the trip later.


[1] The phrase "Thank you for rocking" entered the common parlance after a weird encounter I had at a show once. I went to go see the Apples in Stereo and the Olivia Tremor Control play in Denver a few years ago. I was sent there to review the show for a paper I was working at at the time, so I showed up to watch the entire show. When I got there, the OTC were playing, but almost no one was there. Those who were there was not paying attention, as they were wating for the Apples to come on. In the name of good reviewing, I sat right near the front and watched the OTC set intently. Apparently, I was the only one who did so. After the show, two members of the OTC came over to me and said, "You watched us! You rocked! Thank you for rocking for us!" That was weird.

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