Sunday Afternoon Links = Atonal Dorky Funniness

05. December 2010 · Write a comment · Categories: Amorous Ephemera, Aural Life, Deep-Fried Dystopia, Divine Illumination on Demand, Esoteric Sentience, God's Abandoned Vanity Project, Transmissions From Grudge Harbor · Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Packers win 34-16!

Victoria Hall Disaster Memorial, Mowbray Park - Sunderland [WINTER REDUX]

Shopping Cart with Paper Cup

Fox

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THE HAM OF GRESH — I Gresh, Therefore I Am

01. December 2010 · Write a comment · Categories: Oregon Permutations, Portlandica · Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Recently a woman here in Portland ridiculed me for living near Gresham, a suburb that Portland’s indie-alpha culture finds repugnant.

“Why do you live there? she asked. “Is it because of the close proximity to all the great cuisine and culture?”

Or something. She thought she was being smarmy-yet-cute. But unbeknownst to her, the former greatly diminishes the latter.

So I told her:

GIRL…

The Ham of Gresh is made of stern stuff, it is the most purely triplicate articulation of the Godhead anywhere.

Like you, I am a mere commoner of Southeast Portland. But unlike you, I live scant blocks from the hamlet of Gresh.

I like misunderstood places.

I like coal piles.

I like coyotes, I like scorched engine oil.

I like places where the snow gets dirty.

I like places far removed from emergency renewable energy fairs, yoga parlors, Sleater-Kinney, bike shops, microbreweries and C.h.u.n.k. 666 Tweet-ups.

I like unpopular places.

I like the face-smacking winds of the Columbia River Gorge. I like Kevlar-bottom boats I can smash around the Sandy River with. I like places where ultimate fighting trumps roller derby as the key fringe sport of interest.

I like places that force themselves on the landscape.

I like blight.

I like whatever urban planners hate.

I like vacant lots.

I like wide-open places.

I like places where elk hunters outnumber pansexual dilettantes 100-1.

I like places with grease, gunfire and burning tires.

I like Gresham.

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Some Farm-to-Table Freshness is About to Diddle Your Flab-Hangings

22. October 2010 · Write a comment · Categories: Big Flora & Verdancy, Deep-Fried Dystopia, Oregon Permutations, Unmitigated Ass-Whistles of Vivacity · Tags: , , , ,

Here’s a teaser/sample from the deep-fried dystopian “comic book” I’ve created with Ricky Sprague, who is a verifiable Champion of Humans.  The whole spicy loaf will be appearing on this site soon. The following passage details the trauma endured by the protagonist, Quinton Dean, when he self-sabotages his best shot at journalistic transcendence.

Dean was crestfallen. His pursuit of the Lord Snowden Trinket was more than a labor of love. It was a spiritual and vocational quest. Dean used to quip that he was “doing the Lord’s work,” which made his fellow journalists at the Daily Error chortle. They so loved his wordplay.

It took him years to battle through the shame; ages to reestablish himself as a sage chronicler of the human condition. It was a bleak time. Dean succumbed to car ownership and gluttonous meals with excessive food mileage. His flowing brown hair fell out until all that remained was a shiny bulb of remorse. He ballooned to 155 pounds. At rock bottom, friends found Dean naked in the basement of a SE Belmont sex-magic bistro. He was slathered in a mysterious cocoon-type material, face down and positioned spread-eagle over a life-sized photo of swashbuckling tree sitter Tre Arrow.

Remarkably, there was a silver lining in this sludge. One day that story will be told. Today though, was all about ACTION.

Action indeed. Coming shortly to these pages.

[Iced Dan]

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