P-town

A few hours roadside on the mighty I-5.
I began to thirst, but could not put down the torn cardboard sign reading "Portland" lest that one should pass and leave me to wait forever more.

"If only the boy were here"

So Tim pulls over eventually.
He works for a wine distributor in Portland.
He drives around and drinks wine with resturant owners to see if they want to buy some quality French and Spainish vintages.
We talked metal and shit on religion for a while.
In P-town we hit a bar for a quick one and then he took off, leaving me with two bottles of lovely red wine. Thanks Tim!

Went to Dante's for pizza and a beer,
and was subjected to possibly the worst series of "comedians" in the history of the spoken word.
"So I was jerkin off this morning..."
Err...hah?

Met some local fire cats at Pala and spun off a few for a small crowd.
Everyone looked so...familiar. Like we'd all met years ago or maybe in a past life.
Anyways, that's how you know yr on the right track.
A great group of people...see ya'll at the man!

Hit a bar with Miss Susie Star and Toni.
Fell breifly in love with a girl in exploding eyes as we talked to fill the air with a facade of normal conversation, but the action took place in the short distance between our smiling peepers. A fellow agent...we knew each other immediately.
It was a merry time and soon enough we parted ways and I ended up in this real hip little bar called The Tube.
This is where the hipsters hip,
and the scenesters scene.
It looked like that part of Grease 2 where dude is trying to lay chic in a bomb shelter and telling her its war outside, their duty to repopulate the earth.
A mexican fellow showed me how to drink a tall-boy of Hamm's;
with Tabasco and lime, der!
Then he started to shit all over the white man and said he wouldn't kill me when the revolution came because we were friends and we honor truth. Oh yes.
Stayed till 2 watching the nature video behind the bar and chatting with a cool cat that reminded me a whole lot of Fritz. He suggested a church off east Burnside to sleep.
I found a sweet little roof about half way there and posted up for the night.

Sip some Spanish wine and pray to the Gods of Precipitation for fair weather.

Rudely awoken around 8 by an unfriendly shout.
"You on the roof! Police!"
Effin-eh, man.
I put on my shoes and sip some water.
"We're not waiting for you to eat breakfast!"
Grumpy cops.
I get down there and we get to the nitty gritty.
ID, check.
The machine takes forever to verify my thumb prints and stats and yaddi yaddi,
but in the mean time we make conversation
talking;
meth&baseball
music&breakfast
the weather

In no time quick we're all laughing and telling stories and just chillin there on the street while people drive by and wondered why the fuck I was having such a good time when there was two cops and a flashing patrol car in front of me.
Man, fuck that, we're all decent people here.

By the time the Machine verified my existance we were on a first name basis.
Bob sought my counsel on a good amp for his electric drum set that he plays in the church band.
I directed him towards a good Ampeg.
We all shook hands when it was over, and I was almost sad to go after such a pleasant early morning cavort with the Boys.
"You go on down to Collen's now for the best breakfast burrito in town. Tell 'em you're a friend of Phil."

The rain just started.