I like puns. F**k off.
I also enjoy mispronouncing
Oregon.
My five weeks in Portland were nothing shy of delightful. The drive down the coast was therapeutic and humbling. My brief stint in L.A. was productive and, dare I say, inspiring.
Back in Austin for two days and I'm already boring my friends with tales from beyond the borders of Travis County. And for the first time in over 10 years, I feel like I'm done with Texas.
Gasp?
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Inside The Brody Theatre...an awesomely intimate room for comedy in Portland, OR. |
If I'm honest with myself--which happens less often than it should--my stay in PDX was fulfilling because I was doing things like...
doing things. I was making an effort to live and have fun. Remember fun? It's a faint memory, but it's like riding a bike. Best part? Letting go of the handle bars now and again.
I know how cheesy that sounds, but I'm Mario, have we had the pleasure?
I've also learned that those who say you can't escape yourself or solve your problems by running away have done little to no traveling. Worse yet: little to no paying attention.
You learn exactly shit by staying put. I think Emily Dickinson said that.
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| One more reason to relocate... |
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| Yup. That's a Maple Bar w/ Bacon. Don't vomit 'til you try it. That little one is topped with Tang. Right above? Mango jelly-filled. Sugar high meets food buzz. |
So, will Bat City be losing this witty wop to the land of skinny jeans and Subarus? Eventually.
While living in NYC for three years made me appreciate living in Austin, spending time in Portland has made me appreciate the benefits of leaving it.
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| 1 Pseudo biker bar + 4 Unknown comics = 2 Audience members. |
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| Inside Fresh Pot's wash room. Yes and Yes, I say. |
There's something to be said about a crisp start in a new city...and here it is: while I'm not sure how to make things work if I left--condo, career, t-shirts--I cannot deny the fact that I was just as clueless when I first moved here with no condo, no career and no t-shirt business.
Being naive and impetuous yielded results I had never predicted or imagined before I packed up the van.
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It's true...this big sign was made in Oregon. |
This good-bye of sorts is at least six months ahead of schedule, perhaps even a year, but I've already flipped over the hourglass, one might say.
Not
this one, but
some one.
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| Inside The Kennedy School in PDX...an old grade school with rooms converted into pubs, hotel suites and a brewery. This was outside a tiny bar called Detention. |
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| Just like with regular detention, I'm gonna need a ride home. |
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| An old-school mini bar. Heh. |
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| Portland is teeming with friendly faces like this adorable mug. And a damn fine Scrabble partner to boot. |
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| Forget it, Portland...it's (not even close to) Chinatown! |
If I think about leaving behind my established group of passionate pals, cohorts, cronies and connections, it's enough to give me pause. It's a stiff price to pay.
The only solace is the thrill of both new and existing friendships that await me in Portland.
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| 30 days of inside jokes with my dear friend, Kimm. Met in 1991. Lost touch. Got back in touch. Will keep in touch. And Greg: there was never any actual touching. |
If my face looks odd or slightly unrecognizable in the above pic, it's because I'm content. It's the same face I wore when I discovered Austin for the first (and second) time.
Again, it won't be for a while, and I'll miss it here, but I gots to follow that face.
-mario
