Rainy evening walk, Morrison St to University District Portland, OR Bina...
Civiltà. Behold people at ease in their environment. Though it's mostly raining, raining intermittently and lightly, few people are carrying umbrellas; they do accelerate their pace to get in out of the wet, but they are not seriously discomfited by it. It'd be good now to sit in a warm Strip Club and see some ass, whilst I sip my favorite, ice-cold IPA. Weird, lusty, beer-drinking, pot-head Portlanders.
I burn hot. I tend to exhaust people in conversation, like Margaret Fuller did Carlyle. Which leaves me (but apparently not Margaret) always wishing I'd shut up sooner. I have quite a few friends and not many enemies, but I'm very proud of the few I do have. There is consensus among my friends about me, which is how I know to write about myself. What my enemies think of me I have no idea. That, of course, could be dangerous.
The list of interests and favorites is absurdly partial and half-assed, particularly as to music and books. It's the stupid format of the blog itself, as given, that, of course, I color outside the lines and burst the seams of.
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