I’m visiting friends in the pacific northwest. The thai good out here (well, two thai restaurants) rules. And the trees… there’s these spindly ones in Seattle, I can’t describe them. And Portland has palm trees. Palm trees! Holy crap. (I will later put down an anecdote about Rise Against and palm trees.) Visually this is clearly not where I live. And tonite it’s cool out, cool enough that I felt cold. In August. I love it. Yet at the same time it doesn’t get anywhere near as cold. Neat.

Got two cool hats today, and some good books. Didn’t get any of the several CDs I wanted that I found, because my wife irritatingly (because rightly) pointed out that they could be had cheaper and without having to carry them if I ordered them online. Notes to come on what all of this has done to (as part of my getting older) my relationship to music – and how internet stuff has made the joy of hunting not really work so well anymore – as part of stuff I’ve been writing in a notebook of the thoughts I’ve been having on the trip. Electro

I am now 100% caught up on Nick Hornby’s columns in The Believer, which is all I ever read from that magazine. I am something of a Hornby-ite.

Whoo vacation. (I am not thinking about the work that waits for me at home and in the back of my mind. I am not I am not I am not.)

Oh yeah – and Voodoo Doughtnut… vegan donuts that still taste like they’re really bad for you (ie, delicious). Hell yeah. Tomorrow, gardens (and that reminds me, I should see if I can find the paper I wrote years and years ago about gardens and philosophy).

End transmission.