Tschüß Portlandia

Listening to a collection of things courtesy of my iTunes library.

~White Stripes

~The Streets

~other things as well

Farewells aplenty in the Rose City.  We're packing up these days.  Moving out to the big world, that place to where you're always headed and forced to fester in the heat the entire way.  Always on the horizon like the midnight sun.  One leaves for the Carolinas to save the world from the Flu.  And he'd best.  For all the time I've had to hear him drag on and on with how much he knows about diseases past; well that and the Blazers.  Love you Paul.  His mistress, the saucy Lila, heads across the watery blue to the highlands of East Africa.  Gear up girl.  Then you get to write your thesis.  Please write it on Yakuza crime lords upsetting board meetings.  The Jew's off to be a paralegal in the 303, or is it 971 to him?  Godspeed, I'll see your ass this August, and we finish career d'Espana.  Ben's stayin' in PDX, though he leaves our collective presence just when we were all warming up to each other.  If you guys start a Cyclocross Team, order me a kit, I will pay and will represent the Northern Classics division, though I believe my discs will prevent me from tearing dirt with others.  Love the UCI, LOVE IT! The fair Corey goes to the land of Hoosiers and corn, and Gary, Gary, GaaaaaaaaaHary, Indiana.  Though to be fair her existence is manifested in EAST Laf. and dark poetry.  Jesus Christ your poetry would make small children cry in fear.  But it's pretty hot.  Rolling around in creek beds eh?  Sounds like a good Tuesday night...

As for me.  I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again.  Interestingly, I remember listening to that song on my evening drive back from Oban in December of 2006.  Bumping along in that Suzuki 4-door sub-compact (to be fair, it did have a 5-speed and was okay with me throwing it rally-style into the turns), Scotland seemed like such a nice place.  I've heard the Siren-like song in its glens and moors haunting me as a wind through the grasses there.  And the accents, those funny accents add so much to the daily grind.  But I've also heard the sweet song and smell of the Rose City, and I do not imagine this will be our final encounter.  As much as I love bonnae auld Caledonia and its persistent dreariness, I do not believe I could live their indefinitely.  A few years maybe, just enough to get a career going if need be.  A place where I will always be certain to spend lots of time.  And who knows, maybe I'll get bitten by the Scottish or some other European werewolf and become an ex-pat.  

Portland, and things I will miss.  Friends.  The Perfume scent during spring. Bright greens and pinks.  The Hill.  Terwilliger.  The bridges.  Hipster-filled streets and thrift stores on every corner.  Fútbol on Wednesdays.  Gay-rating scale.  The weather, believe me it's different over there.  Goodbye Saint Van Ottercock.  You are a right good mate and friend even amidst the shit-giving, which to be honest has only made me fonder of you.  We've had a good share of adventures, be it coastal trips, homecoming extravaganzas, or summertime bike rides to parties and debauchery.  Banana Hannah Barton, stop pretending that you're not a hipster.  Embrace your mad-hella Portland style.  Thanks for introducing me to the night of soul.  Farewell Nathan, Andrew, and Nick, and Dylan too.  Karl, keep listening for whale sounds in "Whole Lotta Love".  Kirk and Cassella, I will miss soccer with you two as well as the moments in between pitch and beer.  To the girls' house, thanks for always laughing at my jokes, and for busting in on me when I was most VULNERABLE!   On a related note, big ups to Laura and Deesie.  I also witnessed the birth of a wonderful family this year.  Cheers to the Muirhead-Rose's and their beautiful baby girl Eden Catherine Rose born on 12/30/08.  Carolyn, you spunky punk.  I'm gonna miss your sass and general bad-ass'ery.  Keep on Transcribing the Night Away.  My mates at the Flying Pie, thanks for the cholesterol and the memories.  My newfound friends in Baker City, OR, thanks for everything during the Elkhorn.  That was one of my favorite times this year, and it really wouldn't have been the same without insider info to the world of Baker City politics!  To all of my friends, I will think of you ALL frequently and with a smile on my face.  I have always said that all my good traits and are THE result of the people around me, and I couldn't have asked for a finer bunch of companions on planet Earth.

 

Funny how your future plans materialize during a night of drinking with academics and lots are thrown for your career.  Well that's how it happened in my case one stormy night in Portpatrick during the fall of 2006.   So Here's to books and beer and bitches and bikes.  Here's to a fine future for us all.  I feel we must carry with us the knowledge that tragedy, disappointment, and regret will befall us individually and collectively at some point.  Our only consolation will be the beauty of life itself and our internal will to pick ourselves up.

I leave you with some lines a few of you have heard me read before.

From Liz Lochhead's Mary Queen of Scots Got Her Head Chopped Off

Country: Scotland.  Whit like is it?  It's a peatbog, it's a daurk forest.  It's a culdron o'lye, a saltpan or a coal mine.  If you're gey lucky it's a bricht bere meaddow or a park o'kye.  or mibbe...it's a field o'sanes.  It's a tenement or a merchant's ha'.  It's a hure hoose or a humble cot.  Princes street or Paddy's Merkit.  It's a fisfu'o'fish or a pickle o'oatmeal.  It's a queen's banquet o'roast meats and junketts.  It depends.  It depends... Ah dinna ken whit like your Scotland is.  Here's mines.  National Flower: the thistle.  National pastime: nostalgia.  National weather: smirr, haar, drizzle, snow.  National bird: the crow, the corbie, le corbeau, moi!

Stay tuned, this is all just the beginning...

I love you all.

~Patrick

Spring turns to Summer

Listening to M83 "The Highest Journey"

May's grand finale is pending.  The weather has taken a turn for the best this past month.  I still have yet to complete my Visa application for Scotland, but seeing as though I have had maybe 1 day-off a week and two straight weeks of family guests, it's not all that surprising.  It also doesn't help that I don't have a printer, as many of these forms must be filled out by hand.  

Well, on Wednesday, Barcelona beat Manchester United convincingly in the Champions League finale.  What a match.  Given the recent past of English v English and Italian v English finales, this year's proved a most enjoyable one to watch.  Enjoyable that is if you were a Barcelona fan.  If you were a Man Utd fan, you should be questioning your loyalty to Sir Alex Ferguson.  Barcelona were not favourites in Wednesday's match.  With Abidal and Dani Alves out, the fear in the Barcelona camp was that Cristiano, Rooney, and Berba would be free to stroll right up to Valdez and punish the Catalan's in a big way.  Not so.  Sylvinho was pure class, as was Puyol on the outside right flank.  Toure looked a little lost at times in the center, but Xavi and Iniesta helped create plenty of chances for St. Samuel de Afrique and Lio Lio Lio Messi!  The title was well won.  If I was a more objective "journalist" I would comment on Man Utds lack of performance, but, seeing as though I was working the entire time the game was on, I only had the wherewithal to give Barca my attention.  Go to any English-run sports media outlet for a review of Man Utd's representation of the Premiership and all things gloriously boring in football.  Peh!

In other news, Celtic's failed to win the title.  Oh, well.  Sometimes I really wonder why I love watching/following Celtic.  They play really boring football, but they are my favourite team.  I guess it's my connection to the history.  Oh wait, I remember, Henrik Larsson.  Short story even shorter, I'm crossing my fingers that Celtic sign the Croatia coach , who I would name, but it seems as though our Comcast has frozen again, sweet.

The Giro is wrapping up.  Poor Vandevelde and Horner.  I think I'm mostly impressed with Sastre.  Not that he has a chance to really win the Giro, but he sure is proving that he's got what it takes to break the pack when the road goes up.  Levi's a schmuck, or I should say, afraid to attack, and that's why he won't find his skinny ass on the podium.

I think I'm going to leave this spotty post where it is.  Somewhat unfinished.

Until next time, which will hopefully not be more than a month,

~Opie

Opie's World?

Listening to MGMT, "Time to Pretend"

Sunny May's upon me, but I've come down with a cold.  At least I hope it's a cold and none of this Swine Flue nonsense.  I hope to utilize this Blog in the coming months as a venue for the written expression of my being.  This post is merely a test of Blogspot's text and layout functions.  It is most intriguing to me that as soon as I begin to write something, all that creative energy I swear I possess bleeds through my fingertips and I'm left with not much to say and a very dirty room to occupy my gaze.  Speaking of which, I really need to clean this place.  

Well a bit about me I guess.  I am towards the last three months of my "gap year".  For the uninformed, a "gap year" is the middle-class's year-long version of Spring Break.  I would like to think that I have something meaningful to add to society, but for the moment, I am indulging my inner cyclist by working at a bicycle shop.  It's a good life.  Aside from the fact that I spend a majority of my pay-check on components and take-out food, I would like to think that I am progressing.  Maybe?  Maybe not.  At the still tender age of 23, I've got a lot to learn.  Especially budgeting.  Ugh.  Life looms large.

This coming fall--also known as Autumn on the other side of the Atlantic--I am headed to the University of Glasgow to pursue a degree an MLitt. Scottish Studies.  Hopefully my experiences in Scotland will help me grab life by the horns of the haggis-beast and propel me to bigger things.  I really want my time in Scotland to be the actualization of my dreams.  Ultimately I want to prepare myself to be an incredibly good-looking historian con-cyclist.  Ideally in 5 years, I will be on my way to teaching history courses, leading summer history/bike study abroad trips for university students from Americá, all the while writing travel books and setting up a cycling development center in the U.K.  My linguistic pursuits will include Scots, Gaelic, and Spanish.  It embarrasses me to this day that I didn't embrace my American heritage by learning Spanish.  Oh well, to be amended in the future.

Until my arrival, I will use this particular blog sparringly.  Hopefully in the next few weeks I'm going to set up another BlogSpot with my compadres here in PDX that will cover books, sports, movies, music, etc.  That way I'll be able to let you know what I really think about stage 5 of the Tour de France.  Buckle up, this edition's headed to Barcelona.  Does that mean a Basque rider is going to try hard for the win?  I realize Barcelona is in Catalonia, but Euskatel is one of Spain's two-best teams, and boy are they proud.  I digress.

Until next time,

~Opie.