Ides

A lazy photo blog for the bit of March before Spring Break.

MARCH 8TH, Elephant 6 Holiday Surprise:
I hide in the toilet (too noisy), but the idiot informs me afterwards that a man plays a saw, that members of the audience throw balls at a paper 'moon' on a stick to hail the coming of Spring (for which we're still waiting), and that 90s American indie is actually kind of fantastic. She adopts a side parting for a few days later in the week, just to see whether it makes a difference. Difference to what, I'm not entirely sure. Punk credential? Consummate hair failure, whatever the intention.

MARCH 11TH (4PM), Lark Ascending:
Friend Charlie Hankin plays pristine and crystal Vaughan Williams concerto on the violin, reminding her that some music can do things, and that this should not be neglected (as principle of life orientation).






MARCH 11TH (7PM), Portland Cello Project:
Inga D - kindest friend of a friend we have ever encountered - picks us up at 6.45pm for the PCP show scheduled for 7.30. By the time we arrive (barely 7ish), the Community Music Center is already packed and swarming with children. Standing room only, Friday atmosphere (resist reference to Rebecca Black), and 7 cellos playing Mario Kart, Pantera, Kanye West etc. Idiot heaven.

MARCH 11TH (11PM), Carnaval:
Spanish House party in Winch. Guess who attaches a full box of Cap'n Crunch to her person and announces that she is dressed as a cereal killer? I formally disown her for the night.




MARCH 12TH (2PM), PDX Underground Tour:
20 minutes or so spent in a basement, followed by a 2 hour, decidedly overground, tour of Portland's Old Town. This woman, wearing this hat, spends most of the time talking into a microphone about the 'chemically dependent' and 'demographically undesirable' character of the quarter. A few seconds after this photograph, the voodoo doll doughnut is passed around for shared and equal sampling. Shared and equal, that is, until one member of the party chunks off at least a quarter of its body mass, and pockets the rest in his pac-a-mac.
We learn important stuff about Portland too.




MARCH 12TH (1OPM), Drag Ball: Does this picture really require blurb?
Oh, but I must say, they've installed a gigantic see-saw in the S.U. with a sofa on either end. Useful for looking up skirts when you're not sure what's what (at Drag Ball only, mind).









THROUGHOUT MARCH:
Idiot becomes more confident in class. Professors nod in encouragement, make coaxing noises ...would clap, if appropriate, like exhausted parents who wonder why their baby is still too top-heavy to toddle at 18 months.
Idiotic confidence not necessarily beneficial to class discussion - proclivity for using the non-phrase 'lalalalalala' to denote something a) obvious b) inexpressible c) that has slipped her mind.

MARCH 17TH (3PM), Mills End Park:
After Film Theory finishes at 2.30pm, the idiot decides to start Spring Break early - on a Thursday - and work through a few bullet points on that 'America To Do List 2011'. Here, then, is the smallest park in the world - so says Guinness Book of Records - located on the division between two sides of a dual carriageway, and in full regalia for St. Patrick's. It was put in place by an Irish Portlander in 1948.
St Patrick's Day is something of a fetish in America, and the city is suddenly awash with Irish 'pubs' and their $10 beer gardens.

MARCH 17TH (4PM), Rare Book Room:
From Mills End to the rare book room on the top floor of Powell's. Ulysses, much Burroughs, FIRST EDITION OF MICE AND MEN (idiot's emphasis), Julia Child, and, prized, Lewis and Clark's EXPEDITION worth $350'000.








MARCH 17TH (8PM), Tanuki:
Gianmarco joins us. We wander in the rain and flaunt top hats on 23rd avenue, before dinner at Tanuki on 21st. The idiot once again declares, 'this is the best thing I have eaten so far in Portland' about her thick noodles and pork cheek. The moon outside is almost full.







MARCH 18TH:
Spring Break begins in earnest and we go for a sodden walk to celebrate - from Reed to Sellwood's Antique Avenue (SE 13th), and all the way down Milwaukie to the Powell intersection. En route we pass the creepy sweet house (see photo) and, for once, tiptoe inside.
I don't want to talk about it.



Consette x