Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Will a feature get done later? Who the hell knows?
Not feeling great but not feeling worse. Again, babying myself all day and heading out mid-afternoon.
H is busy all week with the Korean artists in town. Lots of solo dining. Tomorrow is First Wednesday, which I expect to make unless I have a major relapse, knock on my wooden head.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Feel good about leaving Facebook and Twitter. Had their fascination early on and it was nice to connect to some old, lost faces -- but it's a social network above all else, and I'm not in a social stage of my life. What social networking I need I can get at the local coffee shop.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
- Get rid of all athletic scholarships.
- Re-conceive scholarships as athletic investments. The college gets a % of the future professional's first year earnings. A kind of finder's fee.
- Charge the professional franchises for the privilege of running their farm teams on university property.
- Pay coaches less than academic professors.
- Redefine conferences based on geography to limit travel. With no scholarships, large schools and small schools will be more closely matched in sports. The intramural model.
What a fantasy.
I've known women who don't like sports, or who don't like men's sports.
What bothers me are women who don't like sports but who make an effort to like them in order to "share" an interest with the special guys in their lives.
It might go this way. It's the last minute of a tight football game. Been close the whole game, and you've watched every play. Now there's a minute left, your team is 4 points behind but has the ball on the opponent's five yard line. Two plays to get it in!
Enter the woman. "Is it a good game?" she asks. You grunt, yes. "Think they'll kick?" What? what? "Or maybe a trick play. Remember that trick play we saw that time, and the guy ran to the cheerleaders and proposed to one of them. That was so sweet!"
By this time, you're going crazy. All the investment you've made in this game for two hours and now this! You turn to her and face a sweet smile inviting "sharing." All numbers of unspoken atrocities occur to you, all numbers of unlettered obscenities, but before you can say, as calmly as possible, "I'm trying to watch the game here," there's a sudden uproar and when you turn to the TV something important just happened, which you missed, and players are jumping up and down, and the announcer is screaming, "Incredible! Absolutely incredible!" and you missed missed missed it.
Then the fight, of course. Finally you escape to the nearest sports bar so you can be with guys who understand where the hell you're coming from.
Women should be honest. If they hate football, just hate it.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Tim Streeter published this old poster on Facebook. Nice somebody remembers Juniper County! (where I set a number of plays in the 1980s). Now that I think about it, it's the 20th anniversary of the "Charles Deemer's Oregon" theater season at the Firehouse Theatre, when Steve Smith dedicated a season to a "retrospective" of my work, reviving several plays and ending with a new one, Varmints, which I rec'd an Oregon Arts Commission grant to write. Little did I know that a "retrospective" was rather like a funeral ha ha. 1989 pretty much marked the end of my theatrical career in Portland. You celebrate a fine body of work, then you lock the door. Interesting and strange. (The new work continued to be appreciated elsewhere, just not here. For example, my play Famililly, which won an international competition, still has never been done here. Go figure.)
Also feel like I need new energy, a battery charge, a lobotomy, something to get me focused more than I have been lately, albeit sick, something to regain my faith that my days are spent in work more valuable, more useful, more meaningful, than if I spent them in a coma. The mantra of the existentialist, I suppose. Sometimes I think I don't have the strength of character to be an existentialist ha ha.
Today's goal, get my syllabus done and delivered to the copy center. Shouldn't be too difficult, despite low energy.
No basketball games of interest any more. It's all the hot shots left, the professional teams disguised as college teams. I think they should require a 3 point GPA for a student to play basketball. I think they should raise the hoop 18 inches in the men's game. Maybe two feet. I think there should be salary caps for professional athletes. Like $1 million. I think sports scholarships should be paid by the professional leagues, not by the universities. Bah, humbug.
Friday, March 27, 2009
- Back in the 1980s, a screenwriter could make some meaningful money by optioning a script. It worked this way. A producer optioned your script, which meant that he purchased the right to "own it" for a year, during which he'd try to put together a package to get it funded. The standard option was 10% of the purchase price, and the purchase price was 1-5% of the film's proposed budget. So say your script was budgeted at $10 million. You'd be expected to make $100,000 or more, and your option would be $10,000 or more. Serious money, even today. If you were prolific and optioned a lot of scripts, you could make a living. I did for a while. After the year, if nothing happened, the rights returned to you -- and you could option it to someone else! I once optioned a script to three different producers.
- But everything began to change as more and more screenplays got written. It became a buyers' market. Producers got wise and tried a new tactic -- called "the grace option," this threw the 10% standard out the window and replaced it with as little as possible. For example, a couple years ago, I optioned a script for $100 that, twenty years ago, I could have optioned for about 5 grand. That's how much the market has changed to the detriment of screenwriters. Of course, you don't have to accept these conditions. You can write novels instead. But if you are screenwriting, these are the rules of the game.
- From 10% to nothing -- what's next? Pay them instead! I don't believe it. Well, I guess I do. It just really pisses me off. The offer this fellow told me about was this: he would pay them $350 and they would do what producers do anyway, try to make it happen. But now the screenwriter is being asked to pay for this "service." Jesus H. Christ.
I told him to tell the guy he had it backwards and to make him an offer.
We drove only an hour to get to the new Oregon Garden Resort. We had a coupon from the paper for a great deal. The clincher was that the resort is dog friendly, as so many are not. So here we are.
And it's beautiful, right on the garden grounds, on a high plateau overlooking the valley, units providing considerable quiet and surprising privacy, a fine restaurant, the garden at hand and accessible to dogs -- all this only an hour from home. We'll be back.
My contract with my agent expires this summer and he has offered a renewal. This is a big deal since he hasn't sold anything yet. But I have to think about this. I wish I had more a sense of making progress, which the perpetual litany of "crank it up" doesn't always give me. Before the contract expires, I may snoop around and see what other options I may have. This is the best situated agent I've had in a very long time. But agents are just agents. There are good ones and bad ones, and they like to operate from a position of power that they don't always deserve. So I am glad a renewal is offered, which is positive, and yet I wonder if he may be holding me back as well as helping me, in this mad Hollywood chase. Decision time will be soon.
Waiting for H to wake up so we can get breakfast. It's after 8.
A good game tonight, Gozaga and UNC.
Back to the agent: I think the new rewrite will be a test. I see his notes as positive, and I am responding to them, but if he comes back with the same old litany, than I fear we may be engaged in some strange power game. We'll see. After all, I'm no amateur in these affairs myself.
Home sweet home.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
So I'm moving forward in the new splay and starting a new "cranked up per agent's notes" rewrite of the old one.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Need to attack the syllabus but not today. Have a ten page start on new splay, which I'm getting excited about, the usual "serial monogamist" syndrome. The agent is looking at the last one and I surely hope he's as excited about it as I and some of my readers are.
Fantasy time: If I actually made a ton of money before I pass, I think I'd set up a second household in the southwest, where IT IS WARM, and mostly live there and H could come visit whenever she wanted. She has the connections and commitments here, not I -- except for the university. And I'm close to retiring from teaching, I suspect. I still want a chance to play the role of the old guy in town by whose appearances you can set your watch -- 10am at the coffee shop, 3pm at the ice cream parlor, like that. Secretly writing scandalous avant-garde literature which may or may not be discovered posthumously.
Back to reality. Oh well.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
British Pubs May Be Becoming An Endangered Species
LONDON -- Nothing can stay the same forever although Britain is one country where they try like the Dickens to fight that basic truth. The lyric of an old World War I song said it best:
There'll always be an England
While there's a country lane,
Wherever there's a cottage small
Beside a field of grain.
And down the lane from that cottage beside the field of grain there will always be a pub serving imperial pints (20 ounces) of beer. Well, that is changing rapidly. (Although you can still find some authentic pubs.)
Rural life is unrecognizable from 20 years ago and British drinking habits have undergone a sea change, as well. Both of these factors have led to a crisis for British pubs. Thirty-nine a week are going out of business forever.
I feel like I've made a great breakthrough in my understanding of Big Hollywood Movie Structure. And a rather bizarre and new method for generating same. We'll see how it goes.
I wish this damn cough would go away. Other than the cough, I feel pretty good.
March madness back in gear on Thursday. Look forward to it, though as the lower seeds get eliminated, my interest actually wanes. I'm a Cinderella team kind of guy.
And it's getting to be Triple Crown season, too. Spring! I want warm weather and a chance to push my old-fashioned reel mower around the yard. It makes such pretty music, like the sound track of Our Town. Not at all like the hideous noises generated by my neighbors and all their power things.
Monday, March 23, 2009
I published for the first time as a mathematician, under Bob. Later, when at UCLA, I published some terrible poetry under Bob. But when I started writing journalism and literary short stories, I began publishing under Charles. Not sure why, just did. But I was still known to friends as Bob through grad school and in Maryland after grad school.
When I came to Portland after my traumatic divorce in the late 1970s, I think becoming Charles personally as well as professionally was part of my New Life strategy. No one in Portland knows me as Bob. I don't even respond to Bob any more, it's been so long ago. A few friends in Portland, hearing about this name-change, started calling me Charley Bob. That was cool.
Here's a funny story related to all this, which I've told before but which is worth telling again. My brother came to a play opening of mine when I was playwright-in-residence at the New Rose Theatre. At the reception afterwards, the director took me aside and pointed across the room at my brother. There's a very weird guy here, he said, who keeps coming up to everyone and saying, Hi, I'm Bob's brother! No one knew who the hell he was talking about! (Later my brother commented what snobs theater people are.)
I think in Eugene at the reunion, I'll just get used to being Bob for a few days in order to spare endless explanation of becoming Charles.
For most of the past decade, magical thinking has been elevated from a diversion to an ideological principle. The benign faith that dreams will come true can be hard to distinguish from the more sinister seduction of believing in lies. To counter the tyranny of fantasy entrenched on Wall Street and in Washington as well as in Hollywood, it seems possible that engagement with the world as it is might reassert itself as an aesthetic strategy. Perhaps it would be worth considering that what we need from movies, in the face of a dismaying and confusing real world, is realism.
A. O. Scott, "Neo-Neo Realism"
If I were younger, I think I'd do something with this. I might anyway, having little practical sense. But it's another example of the changing relationship between writers, publishers and readers. Already there are some curious and interesting products available from this resource.
So go ahead -- start that magazine you always wanted to publish.
Tomorrow, if free of grades, I hope TO RELAX. If my coughing doesn't keep my from doing so. Actually last night was a relatively cough-free night!
I'm eager to polish the splay and get it out of the house, i.e. to my agent.
And to get back to work on new projects, including catching up on the new libretto and getting back in gear with the novel.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
- video editing for the review -- best to keep ahead of this
- tweak the syllabus
- mow the lawn! Spring!
- start reading submissions to the review
I'm sure there are more. These come quickly to mind. Busy, busy.
Another Big Budget High Concept Idea came to me. What the hell is going on? It's not natural for me to think this way. I think I'll set aside the low budget idea for a rainy day and go with this one since I know that's the advice my agent would give me and this entire enterprise is focused on making him some money ha ha. I'll again get a solid sequence outline before I start scripting but I'm not going to write as obsessively as before, it's bad for the health. I'll take my time with this.
There have been several very important year clusters in my "coming of age" as a writer and an adult (if that's the right word ha ha). First, 1959-62, my Army years, the most intense educational experience of my life since I was in an outfit with 97 holders of Masters degrees in the humanities, many of whom became drinking buddies. Next, 1966-1975, years in grad school and Eugene, when I became a writer. Finally, in Portland, about 1979-1989, when I matured as a playwright.
The reunion this summer celebrating the second of these, the Eugene years, is something I've been thinking about. I plan to shoot a lot of video with a documentary in mind. But a personal docu, about my own coming of age journey, which will be much harder to do but if done right, might be quite powerful in its emotional truths and insights. Tricky, too, since I have one shot to get a lot of the footage. Other footage, research stuff, setting stuff, I could capture later. I need to think this through and have a working outline in my head so I know what I need. What makes it especially tricky is that to tell the story right, I have to deal with my relationship with the woman in my life at that time. Presently, she'll have nothing to do with me. Will she be at the reunion? This would be interesting since in that time and space, we were "an item," many would think of us "as a couple." I can't image interviewing her on tape! ho ho ho. But I can't tell the story right without her playing a prominent role, and I've already thought of several possible devices with which to get around the possibility that 1. she may not be there or 2. she may be there but uncooperative or even hostile. All possibilities allow for a gripping story strategy. (In a recent exchange of emails, her sister finally got my side of the story enough to realize that actually I am not the bad guy in this soap opera.)
The eternal truth for writers, the Great Mantra, is this: It's All Material.
In this week of illness, my knee appears to have improved a bit.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Later this afternoon, Portland State plays, a 13 seed against a 4, and we'll see how mentally tough they are. I'd love to see them advance, of course. I don't know squat about Xavier, their opponent. I don't think the PSU team is as good as last year, though.
The PSU women won in the WNIT and play Oregon State Saturday night. Their journey is virtually ignored by the sexist sports media.
Not by design, but it happens that among the readers giving me feedback on the splay draft are 3 women who would call themselves feminists. A radical feminist in her 60s who lives in Paris. An old-school 70s feminist in her 70s. And a young feminist in her 30s. The latter wanted to change most things about the script; the former thinks the screenplay excels and the movie will excel! The question is, What happened to feminism in recent decades that a feminist so radical she can't stand to live in the U.S. and who put her body where her beliefs are, a woman with a PhD and an MFA both, a poet, an essayist, a professor, why is she not bothered by the very things that outrage the younger feminist? I will say, the radical made a suggestion that I immediately embraced: the love interest is not married. In the context of the story, this makes her stronger. But far, far from the SuperWoman desired by the younger feminist. (The 70s feminist liked the script, sort of a "B" feeling like, and had no suggestions for change. Maybe just being polite -- neutrality is always suspect.)
I am reminded of a startling realization when my labor play BLOOD AND ROSES: 1934 was done at a Longshore Union picnic and all the younger unions members thought it was a commie propaganda play and all the old union members, some of whom participated in the 1934 strike subject matter, thought the play didn't go far enough in telling how violent the times were. The Generation Gap and all that.
I don't know the political persuasions of another female reader, in her 40s, who also thought the script was strong and raised none of the earlier objections. Her suggestions, in fact, were in the direction of cranking up the romantic moments in the story.
Now all this says is the obvious: we bring ourselves to the material. This is why contests have more to do with judges than writers, and why this feedback process has more to do with readers than anything else. Even so, it's an extraordinarily useful exercise. You have to reach a point where you know what you want -- so a suggestion like, "Irene would be stronger if she remained single despite...", jumps out at you, By God, she's right! and another like "Irene should cut his throat" gets you wondering if this were possible without screwing up other things and a third like "let's move the whole thing to Brazil and make it a musical" are quickly dismissed with a grin.
So far, over half the readers are on the same page I'm on, and that ain't half bad. The script is better for the feedback, and that's the bottom line.
But talk about material for a cultural comedy! Has there been a comedy about a writers' group?
Sick or not, I love March Madness! Some surprisingly competitive games yesterday and finally a significant upset, right here in Portland. Looking at all those courtside seats, knowing a great seat cost $1700 for the 4 games of the day, I marveled how much money people are able to spend, still. $72 for rafters and go from there. I really wanted to go to this but couldn't bring myself to spend that kind of money. So I got the DirecTv special for less than a seat and enjoyed the hell out of it, watching 4 games at once.
Round 2 and more of the same today. Main thing is, get those last 3 projects done! I saved the hardest -- the writers having the most trouble -- for last.
And, of course, I wonder how long the crud will hold on. Looking at the experience of others in Facebook, too damn long.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
There's always a certain trepidation about these affairs, too. People change. I've run into people I was very close to decades later and discovered that all we had in common now were our war stories. There's also a good chance I'll run into a certain someone that may prove awkward. What the hell. Onward.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
- pick up projects today
- return graded next week, pick up finals
- read and grade finals
- turn in grades, about next week at this time
- enjoy a week and a half off
- begin Spring term
I have my 91-page screenplay draft done. Want to print today, maybe get in one reading with the red pen before registering it and sharing it for feedback.
During the break, I'll start the new screenplay, the low budget high concept idea.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
The loneliness starts later, when the God role-playing ends, when the first draft is finished. At this moment, if all has gone mostly well, I experience an intense high -- like today, after writing FADE OUT. An intense high! But then it hit me: no one, absolutely no one, can share this with me because I, and only I, have the experience I've just finished. At this moment no one but I knows what the writing is about, knows who these characters are, knows what the emotions of their various journeys are, journeys on which I was beside them every step of the way. This is our trip alone, myself and my characters. No one else will know about them until later. Then, if I'm lucky, some sharing can begin.
So I can't share this high moment. And I hate that. Sure, I can babble about it but not without sounding like an egomaniac. Later, when others have met the characters, some will agree with my enthusiasm and some not but by then I'll have changed my mind about a number of things, a number of them, anyway. I'm already thinking of ways to change things, a few hours later. The intense high is long gone.
But it was that brief moment, right after FADE OUT, the intensity of that high, My God I did it!, I played God and created the clay and now I can begin the less mysterious process of shaping clay into something that many people can share, if I do the shaping right. And for a brief moment, a brief intense high, I knew I had done something important, something worth while -- but there was no one around to share this with, and even if someone, my most intimate friend, entered the room, I wouldn't know how to explain the experience just ended. FADE OUT, wow!, and then the fall back into reality, so-called, the first and most fragile and most mysterious part of the creative process over. And the rational act of rewriting begins.
As e.e. cummings wrote in a different context, "as long as you and i have arms and lips which are for kissing and to sing with, who cares if some oneeyed sonofabitch invents an instrument to measure Spring with?"
What a wonderful day it is!
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
After the rush of writing the first 70 pages of the new splay, I'm slowing down and letting the last act come slowly, lots of brooding and thinking of alternative actions. This is where I always screw up in Hollywood's terms. This story is too big, too commercial, too well timed, for me to screw it up. I really want to do the ending right. I have the ENDING, actually, what I don't have is how to set up and execute the Big Showdown. I am close. Of course, then the real fun begins, printing it out, the red ink, and getting some feedback from some well chosen colleagues. Digest it all and finish up. I'll be done in April, I think. I'm going immediately to the high concept low budget I have in mind, which I think I have a good shot at selling on Inktip since that's what they like. This is the first low budget high concept I've ever had. Usually high budget ideas are Big Movies, at least when I think of them. But high concept does not come easily for me, it's amazing to have two ideas back to back. Going to run with them and see what happens. I'm getting my art-rocks off with the novel and libretto, don't need to get artsy with the splay stories.
One of my continuing, advanced students is a wonder. An absolute wonder. First of all, she has a natural rhetorical talent for screenwriting unlike anyone I've worked with before -- in a form where story matters more than rhetoric. But she has a flair for minimalist writing that is witty, clever, and keeps you reading on. Her weakness has been storytelling but she is learning and improving through an amazingly rigorous course of self-study, watching a movie a day and analyzing it, keeping a blog about her brainstorming, this lady is nothing but energy aimed at learning the craft of screenwriting -- I think she's not only going to learn but "make it." How can she not with her energy and talent and willingness to pay the dues? I read her blog in wonder. I wish there was a grade higher than an A to give her.
I don't quite understand how or why but I actually feel that my screenwriting has reached a new plateau with the new script (and with the idea for the next one). I think I've finally stopped "thinking like a playwright" and have digested my agent's constant mantra, Hollywood Hollywood Hollywood, and am beginning to get the hang of what to do. The real breakthrough for me was seeing SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE. There is not one thing "new" there except window dressing. And by the gods, there is the key! Exotic window dressing, so exotic no one realizes is the same old story told the same old way! This for the mainstream market, at any rate. And my agent doesn't want to market anywhere else -- why should he, the mainstream is where all the money is. It's not show art, it's show business. I've known this for ages and maybe even understood the "theory" of what makes a Hollywood movie work, but SLUMDOG was so different, so exotic -- and yet exactly the same. Yes, it is magic. Dress it up so much that no one sees how you do the trick. The writer as magician. And this is the insight I'm applying in my new script.
Showing a doc film DREAMS ON SPEC in class, excellent Reality 101 story about 3 screenwriters trying to make it in L.A.
Being a writer means you constantly evolve and grow in your writing knowledge. One way to aid in this evolution to becoming a better writer is by learning from what others have to offer. The following lectures cover a wide range of fields including literature, speeches from current writers, lectures from Nobel Laureates in literature, lectures about fiction, non-fiction, poetry, journalism, and even entire classes on writing.
(link deleted by request)
But only if you pay attention ha ha. Valuable and interesting stuff.
Monday, March 09, 2009
I am a high school prose coach in a small Texas town. One of my students, Taylor McKinney, would like to perform a selection from your book selected stories for an upcoming competition. The piece he is interested in is "Lessons From the Cockroach Graveyard." Taylor advanced to State competition last year as a high school sophomore, and I expect him to excel this year as well.
I love things like this.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Coach Bob Knight has a proposal that keeps underdogs and gets rid of automatic bids both: expand the tournament from 64 to 128 teams. He also would get rid of conference tournaments. This would add only one game, after which we're back down to 64. I love this idea! With the top 128 teams in the tournament, I'd expect even more underdogs to have a shot at it. I hope this gets serious consideration.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
The concept here is to incorporate various Japanese theater techniques, such as minimal sets, dancing, and especially puppets. The full use of these is what makes the latter acts so extraordinary. However, the performance starts ambiguously, as if we might be in a more naturalistic rendering of the story. Consequently I found some scenes almost laughable. It's one thing for a middle-aged matron to play a virginal 15-year-old in an opera house where to most audience members she appears about one inch tall, quite another to splash her on a large screen in high definition video, where she looks 100 feet tall. I kept feeling like I was watching a high school play with teenagers trying to perform the roles of grandparents, only in reverse. There was not enough challenging the realism in act one. Let her wear a mask, engage the puppets actively from the start, even put exaggerated unrealistic makeup on her, anything to make her quit looking like a middle-aged woman trying to be a teenager.
In act two none of this matters because the child is a puppet. A brilliant device! Any notion of realism is thrown out the window, the actress can be any age, any size, because now we're in different aesthetic territory.
So the production didn't define its style soon enough for me. But once it did, wow, nothing but brilliance! In fact, it put the Portland Opera's recent production to shame.
For reasons unbeknown, a few days ago I forgot to take pain pills for my arthritic knee -- and it didn't feel any worse than usual. So I stopped taking them, and each day the knee felt a little better. It's about at 75% now, which actually I can live with. No sure why the unannounced improvement.
From the library I got a 7 DVD set called Unseen Cinema, lots of avant-garde stuff. Be interesting to check it out, see if I find anything I can learn from or use. Or steal ha ha.
I wonder if I'll have a teaching job next year. I put in to teach but the way the state economy is going, lots of cuts ahead. In my behalf, I have a class that for over ten years has been full with a waiting list every term. They shouldn't cut such a class though they may transfer it to a tenured professor already on the payroll and save a few bucks. Not the end of the world if they drop me but I very much would prefer ending this dance on my terms, not theirs, and I had decided to go into the classroom for another year.
We're starting research for our changes ahead. Do we finance the house or sell it? I'm for selling it and moving into an apartment, preferably one filled with seniors. I'm also for leaving Portland but the farthest away I expect to get on that score is Beaverton ha ha. Long way from Albuquerque or other places I'd like to check out. But I think it's time to downsize, decrease possessions and responsibilities and increase mobility and flexibility.
H still in bed. She needs to get up and have breakfast and get ready for the opera. I've done all of the above.
Friday, March 06, 2009
A dinner tonight, celebrating Julie's MFA, and tomorrow morning is Live at the Met!, Madam Butterfly.
This is a great way to start out my long weekend.
This term I'm working with several advanced students with the same challenge: fine screenwriters who need to learn how to crank up the last half of a screenplay story.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Here are the top 10:
1. Chicago, IL
2. Atlanta, GA
3. New York, NY
4. Shreveport, LA
5. Albuquerque, NM
6. Boston, MA
7. Stamford, CT
8. Memphis, TN
9. Milwaukee, WI
10. Austin, TX
I thought Portland might be on the list. I thought Austin would be much higher. I love Shreveport.
I used to love Portland. When I moved here it was paradise, as everyone says. Today, not so much.
The unemployment rate is outrageous. When i moved here, Portland was a plucky little town with jobs and dirt cheap housing. Then the housing bubble, all the hip kids keep moving here right after college, the city put money into expensive condos, everyone refurbished their homes -- all this means, there are too many starving, adorable twenty-to-thirty year olds looking for jobs, and rent/houses have skyrocketed in prices which in turn makes the youth looking for work need two or three jobs, thereby exacerbating the problem.
Because of how fast Portland 'bloomed' with talented people and at the same time experienced housing inflation, there is a large block of nouveau riche -- people lived here before the boom and rode the wave over the crest/crash, or people who dropped in at the right time and landed the good job/smart investment opportunities. So the rich people are hunky dory and not much is going to hurt them unless our whole economic system collapses. And the rich see no reason why the poor should be poor.
First Wednesday tonight as well. I may or may not go, depending on my energy level. I'm also a tad peeved about how this particular session was organized (not by Julie, by the guy in charge tonight). But energy, not the other, will determine whether I go or not. My energy level has been crashing recently. I keep thinking of the old blues lyric, "going down slow." Way I feel lately.
I've always worked on many projects at once without a problem but my energy, my concentration, even my interest, all have been waning recently. Part of my sense of needing to downsize and move more slowly is demanding less in my writing schedule.
Feels to me like the clock definitely is winding down.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
"REMEMBER ME" 2009
2nd Annual Paul deLay Scholarship Benefit Concert
James Harman * Curtis Salgado / Alan Hagar Duo * Linda Hornbuckle
DK Stewart * David Vest * former members of the Paul deLay Band
Sunday, April 5, 2009
6 - 10 p.m. / doors open 5:30 p.m.
3017 SE Milwaukie Ave. * Portland OR * 503.233.1994
Monday, March 02, 2009
But listen, gang, I don't work for Business Week! I didn't make the list. And yes, I do live here, I've lived here for 30 years.
LATER. Rescheduled for Tuesday.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
- March madness
- Army-Navy football game
- Summer Olympics
- Little League World Series
- Triple Crown
Took three hours to edit and prepare two readers from First Wednesday -- very labor intensive work. But I practiced piano while video files were rendering, enough that my out-of-practice hands are sore. I should've been practicing while video renders all along!
Not much in a writing mood this weekend. Too much work. Practicing piano and editing video are full of grunt work moments.