Needful things

For the past two weeks, Amanda and I have been sending each other photos from our phones throughout the day. Technically, we weren't supposed to talk during these two weeks, but we did cheat a few times. Only a few. Kind of. We've got about 160 photos and are planning to make little books for/with each other of the larger project, but here are some excerpts.



L: Amanda; R: Casey




L: Casey; R: Amanda



L: Casey; R: Amanda



L: Amanda; R: Casey



L: Amanda; R: Casey



L: Casey; R: Amanda



L: Amanda; R: Casey



L: Amanda; R: Casey



L: Casey; R: Amanda



L: Casey; R: Amanda



L: Casey; R: Amanda



L: Casey; R: Amanda

You slide down your stairs to the heated street

It's the last day before another equinox, and I could not be more grateful for the past few months. I was so certain in February that this would be the worst year of my life. I made peace with it even, steeled myself for the onslaught of 28. Instead, it was hands-down the best summer I've ever had. This is going to sound more diary-esque than I'm really comfortable with, but I'll ignore that this once for the sake of the record:

Thanks to the desert and the bay, the Washougal River and the 24 Hour Fitness. Thanks to 21st Amendment's Hell or High Watermelon, EAT's catfish poboy and that daiquiri I had in Louisiana. Thanks to my bike, my cat, my fire escape. Thanks to short shorts and boat shoes. Thanks to that Robyn song "With every heartbeat," which in one four-minute song flipped my whole brain. Thanks to Lil Wayne and Little Dragon. To Lloyd, Dolly Parton, Lionel Richie, Kid Cudi, Tennis, Mariah Carey, The Vaccines and New Order. Thanks to that Bruce Springsteen song "Backstreets," which almost made us cry on that dusty desert road. Thanks to campgrounds and cabins, corn and cantaloupe. (All that to say thanks to my friends, whose brains/hearts/brilliance made me stop all that yearning for somewhere, sometime else).

As my man David Berman says, "hello to feelings that arrive unintroduced!"




*Amanda took this photo of some handwriting I did on her wall. The quote is courtesy of Dorothy from the Golden Girls.

You're an animal, too

One of the aspects I like most about working at a newspaper is the chance to go do all sorts of things I just would never do in my normal life. Some of those are things I'd never really think I'd want to do, but then they turn out to be enlightening. Friday i took my second trip of the year to a butcher shop, this one a Halal market. After covering the pig slaughter in 2009, I figured I'd had enough watching the way animals become meat. That assignment is still the hardest (and in that, one of the best) assignments I've done at the Oregonian.

But Friday was a good refresher -- not nearly as heart-wrenching, but I do think it's important to watch the way a whole animal is broken down into the disconnected pieces (I mean disconnected emotionally) that then get served up to the world. Plus, the butchers were so nice and excited to have me there. They told me all about their particular food ethos and about where the cows and lambs came from.

Nets my shadow's tangled in

Square scenes from T:BA late night.

10 things I like

- wind chimes
- hummingbirds
- Baskin Robbins' mint chocolate chip ice cream
- the cup of coffee I had in Iowa. I brought the beans from Portland. Sarah V did the percolating. And Laurel provided the perfectly warm apartment.
- the orange fire-king coffee cup my grandfather used
- the smell of rain in summer
- showering in late afternoon with the sunlight spilling through my shower window
- treehouses
- light boxes with old diagrams or x-rays in front
- card catalogs

I hung my hopes out on the line

(will they be ready for you in time?)

The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last-chance power drive