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Monthly Archives: January 2010
Tweed Ride PDX: Happiness on Wheels
Yesterday we had the pleasure of riding along on Portland’s first annual Tweed Ride, a day-long costumed bicycle journey through this fine city we now call home. Lyle and I combed our closets for tweedy get-up, then hopped on our … Continue reading
Lemures and Manes: Or Three Margaret Atwood Novels
It was still dark Friday morning when I read the last page of Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale: “We may call Eurydice forth from the world of the dead, but we cannot make her answer; and when we turn to … Continue reading
Sign of The Times
When I finally tracked down a copy of the Sunday New York Times this morning, the girl at the checkout smirked at me and said, “Now that’s an expensive paper. Six bucks, please… I guess it’s worth it.” From the … Continue reading
Anarchist Fiction at Powell’s
On my reading list for February (or as soon as I move up the library hold-list totem pole) are two titles I learned about last night at Powell’s: Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Dispossessed and Mythmakers and Lawbreakers: Anarchist Writers on Fiction, edited by Margaret Killjoy.
Powell’s is one of the top reasons I wanted to live in Portland, and last night I did a little happy dance when I checked their event calendar. Two bucks to ride the bus downtown and hear Ursula K Le Guin?! What is this place, heaven?
Okay, so she lives in Portland and heaven wouldn’t have this many strip clubs (hey, it’s my blog,) but still. I love Portland; I love Powell’s. Continue reading
Posted in Books, fiction, Reading
Tagged anarchist, fiction, Margaret Killjoy, Powell's, Ursula Le Guin
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Dissident Daughter: Reading and Being
My mom and I just celebrated our birthdays, so in honor of my mom, I’m revisiting a book I read last month: Sue Monk Kidd’s The Dance of the Dissident Daughter. Not because I’m particularly dissident in our relationship (I’m … Continue reading
O! Robert Hass and Czeslaw Milosz
This week I’m dipping into Time and Materials, by Robert Hass. His poetry startles me out of sleepy familiarity with my own life. He writes right into the center of things: suddenly you’re in the kitchen with a former lover, slicing nectarines. Or across the table from you, an old friend seems to have lost her hands (or is it you who lost them?) Time bends forward and back like some flexible tree. Exotic and ordinary materials collide in the same room: the newspaper on the front porch, the moon through the blinds.
This is his translation of a poem by Czeslaw Milosz. I’m including clips of the paintings he writes about, though there’s one I wasn’t able to find. If you find it, let me know. Continue reading
Scott Douglas: The Original Snarky Librarian
Alternate title: Dispatches from a Snarky Butthole. This is the way I began referring to author Scott Douglas, as a shorthand for why I was laughing/snorting/flinging the book down in disgust. When my boyfriend put down his copy of Journey to the East for the tenth time in an hour to ask “What?,” snarky butthole was the first thing that came to mind. That’s because, with all due respect, the guy is a snarky butthole. Continue reading
Confessions of a Technophobe
Do other people handwrite drafts of their blogs before posting? Strange to say, at 26 I’ve somehow become old school. I love my spiral notebooks. I love the printed word: words printed on actual paper you can actually hold in your hands. I still buy the Sunday New York Times. Continue reading
