I just read Vladimir Nabokov's "The Real Life of Sebastian Knight". I can't believe I haven't read it until now; I agree with the critic michael dirda's assertion that "questions lie at the heart of nabakovian fiction, a fiction full of ambiguity, traps for the unwary, camoflaged clues, tongue-in cheek parody, and dizzying paradoxes". This was his first novel written in English. With Nabakov, nothing is ever as it first appears, but what really kills me is the beauty of his language: "possibly underappreciated, are the novel's atmospheric vignettes: scenes of old Russia, romantic Paris between the wars, rain- swept Cambridge.These imbue "The Real Life of Sebastoan Knight" with a distinct period feel, one reminiscent of so many grainy, shadowy 1930s black-and-white films".

Tonight I was let in free too see Glass Candy, Farah, Nite Jewel and more at Rotture, a bar that has good dance nights every weekend and a rad soul night on Thursdays. Next to Holoscene, it's my favourite PDx venue for dance nights.

And, next week at work, I get to start writing ad copy. I mean, it's not exactly the equivalent of publishing an essay in McSweeneys, but nonetheless, it is nice to have my boss think I'm a good writer capable of writing ads (that being said, writing ads does feel a little weird after allow those years spent supporting adbusters, but.....).

Also, I always feel a little shy about people I don't know that well reading this (and for some reason, I know people are) because I do worry that I must come off as more emotional, self- centered, and neurotic than the relatively happy and fun girl I am in real life, but.......oh well, that's what I guess happens when I update this while drinking wine all alone in my apartment late at night: even a girl as prickly as a porcupine and as impervious (impenetrable?) as.....a rain jacket ( that's so cheesy) lets her guard down and becomes a little sensitive.

I just read Vladimir Nabokov's "The Real Life of Sebastian Knight". I can't believe I haven't read it until now; I agree with the critic michael dirda's assertion that "questions lie at the heart of nabakovian fiction, a fiction full of ambiguity, traps for the unwary, camoflaged clues, tongue-in cheek parody, and dizzying paradoxes". This was his first novel written in English. With Nabakov, nothing is ever as it first appears, but what really kills me is the beauty of his language: "possibly underappreciated, are the novel's atmospheric vignettes: scenes of old Russia, romantic Paris between the wars, rain- swept Cambridge.These imbue "The Real Life of Sebastoan Knight" with a distinct period feel, one reminiscent of so many grainy, shadowy 1930s black-and-white films".

Tonight I was let in free too see Glass Candy, Farah, Nite Jewel and more at Rotture, a bar that has good dance nights every weekend and a rad soul night on Thursdays. Next to Holoscene, it's my favourite PDx venue for dance nights.

And, next week at work, I get to start writing ad copy. I mean, it's not exactly the equivalent of publishing an essay in McSweeneys, but nonetheless, it is nice to have my boss think I'm a good writer capable of writing ads (that being said, writing ads does feel a little weird after allow those years spent supporting adbusters, but.....).

Also, I always feel a little shy about people I don't know that well reading this (and for some reason, I know people are) because I do worry that I must come off as more emotional, self- centered, and neurotic than the relatively happy and fun girl I am in real life, but.......oh well, that's what I guess happens when I update this while drinking wine all alone in my apartment late at night: even a girl as prickly as a porcupine and as impervious (impenetrable?) as.....a rain jacket ( that's so cheesy) lets her guard down and becomes a little sensitive.

My belly's still full from last night's dinner at The Farm Cafe , a lovely restaurant in an old house that focuses on locally-sourced fresh food. We drank Pinot Noir and gorged ourselves on rosemary roasted hazelnuts, baked Brie, herb crusted tofu with mushroom Marsala sauce, and goat cheese ravioli with fresh basil, pecorino, and hazelnuts. It's funny, I hate packaged junk food, but I'm happy to indulge on really good fresh food and wine. It was just such a charming place to celebrate the 28th birthday of the boy I'm dating. After that we drank pumpkin ale and watched The Pineapple Express at the 3 dollar theatre.

I love night's filled with good people and good food. It is undeniably nice to have someone who wants to celebrate their birthday on a date with me.

Despite what people say about getting old and boring, I think each year just gets more and more fun. You know, I think right now is a pretty amazing time in life.

Don't fall in love with the autograph

Another Friday night spent on the couch drinking wine and reading Nabakov. Sometimes, I think these are my favourite kinds of Friday nights.

Although I do really like going out too. I actually think I'm starting a 1990s dance night (it was their idea, I just talked my way in) with 3 others and I have to come up with a DJ name. I guess girl DJs are always somewhat marketable?

If anyone has any ideas....

It's funny, I got really mad today, and I don't usually. But, and I think this is characteristic of women in the post-feminist era, I hate not being taken seriously. I always feel like I'm in kind of a dilemma, because obviously, I want to be considered attractive, but I also want to be heard.

I always feel like, in relationships, at some point, boyfriends abandon all pretense at intelligent conversation and begin talking to me like I'm some kind of wriggly puppy. Nothing makes me grouchier than being genuinely upset about something and having someone grab my cheeks, make a face, and say "you look so cute when you're mad."

Sometimes I feel like I'm some kind of accessory. And I'm not saying that I think this happens because I'm unusually attractive, but I think, sometimes, my love for dresses and vintage things and old jewelry and silver tea trays and sleepovers and picnics and vegan cupcakes, in other words "cute and pretty things" distracts people from the fact that I'm a person with, if maybe the not the most revelatory, valid things to say. I just have always believed that life, at least for us in (relatively) democratic nations, doesn't have to be a struggle. It isn't frivolous or superficial to want things to be beautiful and lovely. What's the point if you're not having fun? Sometimes, I think that people who are so serious about being a serious artist and intellectual must harbor some insecurities. Many of the most intelligent people I know are also the silliest.

Maybe this condescension is characteristic of people who consider themselves "artists" or amateur philosophes. Or maybe, this problem isn't gender-specific.

As frustrating as it is, it also is really, simply, incredibly boring to have someone talk about how cute they think your expressions are for hours.

Why do we share our excitement about life and interests with people we just meet for the first time, but not for the people we've known for years? Or maybe, it's hard to let people who know you so well see your new aspirations and ideas, because we fear criticism? Why is it so hard to find someone fascinating once you know all of their quirks? Do you think we're more ourselves with people we meet for the first time or people we see everyday? On the one hand, when we meet someone new, we're unburdened by any kind of attachment, expectations, or baggage. We are, essentially, free to create and invent a new sense of ourselves in the eyes of this person. There is a certain kind of freedom. And, maybe, that's partly what's so attractive about new people. There is also something indescribably amazing about connecting with anyone, be it friend or crush, for the first time. I, at least, love the intoxicating feeling of having a really really good conversation with someone for the first time. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's really good. Maybe it's just refreshing, in the age of fast food relationships, to meet genuine people and get to know them beyond their Facebook interests or the social capital they flaunt. I do wonder, from time to time, what happened to the people I've spent hours talking to at different points in my life that I lost along the way. One time, I met a boy at a party when I was 17, and we talked all night, and forgot to exchange numbers before leaving. About 5 years later, we met at a party, sort of stared at each other all night, and finally, begrudgingly admitted that we had both recognized the other, instantly.

Maybe that's part of the reason that we move and travel, to momentarily gain freedom from the shackles of our past. Everytime I've broken up with someone or had a really bad week, I've been tempted to cut ties and take off from my life.

But maybe, who we are is who we are with the people we've known for years or see everyday before we've prettied our insides and outsides for public consumption. Maybe none of the pretensions we adopt or the bullshit we bat around really matter. Maybe who we are is once we're disarmed of this struggle to impress, our fairy glamour, if you will.

Do you think everyone finds everyone silly and boring after a while?

Can't someone be frivolous and intelligent?


What was the point of this again? I lost my fucking thesis.

Some kind of English major I am. Finding a point in my posts is like finding a...... clean needle on East Hastings.

I am too depressed about the state of the world in the wake of that the re-election of that wanker, Stephen Harper.

I can't even talk about it.

I hope everyone voted against Stephen Harper....poll day was today, wasn't it? I don't even know- the US news never really covers Canada. I voted by proxy.

It's crazy....

you know how you could be single for ages (an astute person could, at this point, gently suggest that I've never been single for ages)....and you only meet loser after loser, and then, once you finally land on a good boy and snap him up, suddenly cute and charming boy after boy emerges from the proverbial woodwork?

Well, same thing with jobs. I finally take a job I like, and employers keep calling.....it does make me wonder a little if it's reprehensible to quit a job for a better opportunity a week after your start date? I once read an article that said that, on average, a person will change their career 7 times before the age of 30. At the time, I was shocked, but then I realized it was only because I never equated my "day jobs" with "careers". Probably a symptom of my female version of the Peter Pan syndrome.

But, I like my current job so far. It's kind of cool that I get to review resumes for openings throughout the pacific northwest and deal with payroll/employee issues from portland, seattle and spokane, and everywhere in between. In the future, I will be taking business trips to- wait for it- Spokane, Seattle, and Vancouver, BC. So, maybe not the most exciting locations for a business trip for me, personally, but it will be kind of cool if I get to work out of Seattle and Vancouver and visit people there.

For some reason, my employers think I have a future in "sales"- I have to say, it's nothing I've ever imagined myself in, but, it can't be that hard to charm a bunch of old men in suits at business dinners, right? I do sort of wish that the VP of sales hadn't spent the entire business meeting today staring at my legs under the table, but hey, whatever.

This weekend was pretty mellow...but I did see a couple of good shows.

I did see Ponytail , who erupted from the emerging Baltimore music scene and High Places (I think out of Brooklyn?) and they're both pretty rad bands.



High Places photo by Pitchfork



Ponytail photo by Pitchfork

I also went to see "The Oh Sees" from the Bay area at a neighbourhood bar....it was a really good show, too. I think they're somehow associated with Seattle's "The Intelligence", who are very Seattle band that everyone I knew made fun of (I really have to stop hanging out with anarchist noise punks, it makes me so easily impressed by people who are nice) but I actually liked.

On Sunday, I went to a benefit for the Portland Radio Authority, an internet radio station at the East End. I recently wrote a long-winded article about the challenges that independent radio faces, and it's become increasingly important to keep these media outlets open and operating.

Also, I watched the film "The Painted Veil" and I thought it was stunning and perfectly subtle...although the boy that fell asleep on the couch beside me might disagree. I never saw the original film, which starred (I believe) Greta Garbo, but I read the novel by W. Somerset Maugham ages ago.

3 boring housekeeping things about meI want to talk about:

also, never organize your email at happy hour (yes, I am that old now) because your festive fingers will mix up the delete and reply buttons. And, yes, send out accidental emails. Lots of them.

1. I am planning to be in Vancouver and Seattle (sooner) at points within the next two months. And, possibly, (later) San Francisco and Mexico. There are things I want in Vancouver, like my snowboard, bike, and table, so I might rent a car at some point and road trip it, so if you know of anyone who would like to take a fun trip from Portland or Seattle to Vancouver & back.....I'm an excellent road vacation partner. A crappy roommate, but, a fabulous vacation partner.

or, alternatively, if anyone wants to plan a weekend in the Bay area with me....let's do that.


2. I found a job. I was kind of hoping they'd want me to start...in a week or two, but they want me to start...tomorrow.

Unfortunately, it's only 5-6 hours a day, but after being offered these stupid customer service/receptionist jobs which, while fine, would be boring and easy, I really wanted to take it, especially since one economist described the Portland economy as a bunch of "overqualified underemployed college grads serving coffee to each other".

I'm going to be working in human resources in the personnel department. I get to interview candidates all day, do background/reference checks, and see if they would be a good fit with jobs.

It would be good money if it was full-time, but I think it's going to become full-time at some point in the near future, and there's tons of room for growth, which is super good. It's sort of a starting point, but they could really see me in a more strategic sales and marketing position once there's an opening.

But for the next couple of months, until the new position opens up, I either need to be super good with money or find something extra as well- like work in a store or, or bar or something, blah. Especially because there are things I would like to buy...a new camera, a vehicle, a new bicycle, a snowboard jacket, a surfboard.

3. If you haven't, do read "Geek Love". I think I avoided it because, despite the awards it won, I just assumed it was like...High Fidelity for the World of Warcraft set, but it's not. It's a fascinating novel about a family of freaks and carnies.

I don't know if I've felt so uncomfortable reading descriptive narrative since Middlesex. But it's amazing and engrossing....

You tell me that you've heard every sound there is

This American Life:

1. I filled out my first US tax form. Well over two decades in Canada and I still don't understand taxes there....doubtful I'll pick it up here, either. What's this 401K Business? Where are they taking the money to? Why would I want to add extra to this?

I feel like I could star in some kind of takeoff on "The Simple Life." Yes, those are real questions.


2. I took my first drug test ever. I'm not sure if I made a faux pas by not placing the cup full of, well, you know, back into the bag before walking through the office hallway. Only 17 people saw my cup. Is there an etiquette book for this?

Yes, I passed. As if there was any question.

3. It's refreshing and nice to sit in an interview and have someone tell you what an interesting life you have (I have). I always have a hard time "selling" myself to other people seriously, if you ask me my taste in music, I'm more likely to share my most embarassing mid-1990s guilty pleasures than the more-socially acceptable albums I just bought. I think, sometimes, I end up selling myself short and people end up underestimating me. This is kind of a theme in my life. I can be sort of giggly and social and discuss pop culture and, to some people, this conveys a lack of intelligence or seriousness.

It's also really nice when someone makes it seem like all the traveling and volunteer work I've done has been worthwhile....


4. I have job interviews upcoming.

5. Come visit my lonesome self this November, por favor. So far, my weekends are open. I will be cold and wet like a bedraggled cat. I'll be all alone. All alone! Well, not really, I do have some friends.

I know it's sacrilegious for a native-born Vancouverite to say, but I hate our weather. I've talked to countless people who were fooled into moving to Seattle after spending a glorious summer in the area, only to encounter the drizzly gray that defines our fall/winter/spring. I often read these ridiculously laudatory type of articles, most recently, in The Oregonian (I do not recommend that paper, it's no Sunday Times), about how the rainy weather in the Pacific NW leads to a rich-inside life with coffee, beer, books, conversation, etc. In my opinion, that's just romanticizing the fact that it's too shitty to go outside for ten months of the year.

This is partially due to my innate hatred for gortex and fleece. The crisp Fall I dress for in my head (I think it's in Boston) is not the rainy Fall that is my reality. I never can quite master the layering thing. I am always too wet, too hot, or too cold, and it's always such an ordeal to figure out how to get to the bar looking socially presentable without having to lug around a coat and umbrella on the dance floor. Such an ordeal, in fact, I really prefer to go into hibernation between October and March.

6. Changes are afoot.

You got me chasing honey bees

It's funny, you don't really notice yourself getting older, and all of a sudden you look at photos and realize you look all grown up....One day you're all baby-faced and then, a few years later, you look like an adult.






I can't figure out if I like it or not. I mean, not how I look, which is fine as always (we don't really get a say in such things, so why lament), but looking like a....grown up. I constantly meet people (not anyone reading this or any of my friends, since I don't make passive aggressive comments like that, plus I have really attractive friends & family) who I'm convinced are ten years older than me and then I find out they're around my age.

Of course, a lot of it is the social cues you send out based on the way you look/dress. I do wonder if I'm supposed to be dressing like a "grown up" now.


But, it just goes to show the disparity between how we perceive ourselves and how others perceive us.

I don't really dress like a kid but I don't exactly dress like a Banana Republic model.


In a way, I like not being a kid, because when you're 20, you can sort of rely on just being sort of cute and young, and when you're older, you really try to create interesting things and amass interesting experiences. It becomes increasingly imperative to have something of consequence to say.

It is funny, I do remember feeling so shy and intimidated when I was 19 compared to how I am now. I like that I feel confident enough to have fun with lots of different people and assert myself.

But it is weird how in the space of, oh, two years, people go from patting you on the head and saying things like "oh, you have time. you're young" to expecting things of you and treating you like an adult.

I glide by slip a cigarette in your bed

There is no First Thursday
like a First Thursday spent with an anarchist commune that travels by a converted bus drinking home-brewed Blackberry Absinthe Beer (apparently).

Also, I forgot to mention, but 16mm has a preview of their video shoot on their website here. You win at life if you can guess which director/actress they're, ahem, inspired by.