I'm coming back soon. Its gonna be big. Or tiny.

Moving sucks and is cool at the same time. It sucks because you have to pack up all your shit. Packing up all your shit requires a lot of work, time and sacrifice. You open up a box of shit you've had tucked away forever, you look in it and you're like "wait I remember this shit!" then its like, "wait, I don't really need this shit." Commence sacrifice. Not to mention our aforementioned cockroach issue, which adds a delightful paranoia to the whole packing thing. Making sure as few cockroaches as possible re-purpose our boxes as public transportation.

One of the primary reasons I wanted to move to Portland is bicycling, ease of not driving, bike friendly atmosphere, etc, but instead we're moving into an apartment we love in an area we're pretty iffy as far as bicycle accessibility and friendliness are concerned. So far out from Portland proper that it almost doesn't even seem like Portland at all. We have a 6 month lease, so in a few months when we are positive that it kinda sucks, we'll start looking for more convenient locations. Hopefully our experience at this place will give us a little foresight as far as what our needs are and where we wanna be. le sigh.

Despite being located in the asshole of Portland, as a whole the city has a lot to offer:

1. Powell's City of Books
    A dangerous amount of books.
2. This sign
    It has a deer!
3. Zoobomb
    A dangerous amount of tiny bicycles.
4. Fucking gallons of beer
    Score.

While I've been doing this I should have been cleaning out the hall closet. I bid you adieu so I can go do that.

We're moving. We actually found an apartment, got approved. Now we have the odious task of packing all of our stuff.

Our new apartment is bomb, like nearly twice as big as this one. It has a balcony.

We've been looking for apartments in Portland. Its hard. You call places. You knock on doors. etc. The lack of people who answer their phones is so ridiculous that it is almost at a level of vaudevillian comedy. It feels like I should be in some kind of silent movie where I'm moving in fast motion. I'm just waiting for a house to topple over on me or to be chased by a dog.

Olde English is actually really tasty...If you're a gangsta, which I am.

My little family and I live fairly minimally, but I don't think we're doing it right. I don't think we have enough money to live the sexy minimalist lifestyle. There is a definite and sharp divide between the life my family lives and the life I wish my family lived. It is not all that materialistic, but that isn't to say that I'm not materialistic, because I pretty much am. I want a simple, creative, fulfulling life. I want to take Pearl to the park, to a museum. I want so much for her to grow up in a fun, intellectually stimulating, creative home. Instead, our life is very rock and roll, but with out the rock and roll, its all dirty ashtrays and laundry on the floor. I'm always too tired, too overwhelmed, too something or other. To force myself to do anything other than peruse the internet. Wait, fuck this for now. I've effectively shamed myself into action, at least temporarily. I'm going to start doing some cleaning.

I'm normally opposed to "cycling gear" but,

I want this:
and these too match:

This morning, on my ride home from work, I almost ran over a dwarf. She was a homeless dwarf, she was standing in the middle of the multi use path (big fancy sidewalk that is for bikes, walking and apparently dwarf camping). Wouldn't that be the most fucked up thing ever, to maim, kill or mortally injure a dwarf on a bike path?? That is some David Lynch shit.

when I'm 60 I want to be able to be able to hang out with tight pants and no shirt.