Monday, August 28, 2006

Dear John

Portland, Portland, Portland. What am I going to do with you? I've made it clear in no uncertain terms that it's over, honey. I've moved on, and Missoula and I are happy, so why now? Why are you trying to win me back after so much time, so much water under your four or five or nine bridges? Yes, I love what you've done with the place. You've clearly cleaned up your act (in OldTown, which is now only called The Pearl District because if you own a 5 million dollar condo you can't tell your friends that are up visiting from Malibu, to come up and shop for their weekend get-away in OldTown) and you've put in Jamison Fountain where there used to be an empty lot full of needles and discarded Blazers season tickets. You're getting out more - seeing the world (by way of the trolley which stopped right in front of our hotel!), but I'm telling you, you've got issues and I can see with all the prettyfying they're just getting shuffled around like always. In fact, try to do something about those dirty homeless kids with the safety pins in their faces and their hungry puppies tethered with hemp leashes - Saturday Market should not be their living room. In fact a real live living room should be their living room.

And although the old haunts brought back memories (Dim Sum at Fong Chongs), I'm just not in that place anymore. It's not you, it's me. (And tell that wench that moved into the cute Craftsman house on 47th, around the corner from Stumptown coffee, that the backyard looked much better when Jim and Mignon were living there and that she shouldn't have ripped out the Japanese maple in favor of broken down, unkempt raised beds. I can see she's taken advantage of our huge dahlia garden, but it looked much better with the Daphnia as a back-drop than that nasty-ass mess of grasses she put in there. Criminal.) Portland, I love you so much, but Missoula has a much bigger, um, well, let's just say Missoula completes me. Missoula may not be as metropolitan, sophisticated, or convenient as you, Portland, but I'm beyond that now. And I never thought I'd say this, but it's what's on the inside (of my husband's wallet, meaning cash, instead of his Portland State University student ID) and and not about how easy it is to find a decent plate of sashimi.

(But you know, call me sometime if you want, because I'm totally still hot for your body and Missoula is fine with me seeing other people on occasion. Is that strange? Well it works for us, and if you can't see past that than you're clearly subscribing to the oppressive patriarchy.)

Song of the Day: She's Got a Way, Billy Joel


Anonymous honestyrain said...

i've only ever lived right where i live. in different parts of right where i live though and i do not deisre to go back and live wherein i have lived beforely. i am happy here. i am happy here like i was happy when i was a child. i have a sense of community that has been lacking since i left my parent's home.

8/28/2006 9:13 AM  
Blogger Esereth said...

Oh sing the song of Portland.

Portland is this pearl to me, but hidden in an oyster on the ocean floor. The horrendous traffic, panhandlers, one-way grids, parking availability and my own inability to read directions all representing the oyster and the ocean. If I could get through that, so much bounty to be had.

How did you navigate all that? Or are you such a rough metropolitan girl that you thrived on the tension?

8/28/2006 10:00 AM  
Anonymous wordgirl said...

It's tough being torn between two lovers--er--cities. And the Craftsman house? Yeah...I hear its siren song.

8/28/2006 10:52 AM  
Anonymous LetterB said...

I loved this post! Funny, clever, with a good moral. But I must curse you for that Billy Joel song will not leave my brain now. All I had to do was read the title...

8/28/2006 10:58 AM  
Anonymous stella said...

dooooooood. move back to portland. i could do portland. i can't do missoula. then we could be neighbors and have coffee, and grow big squash in our gardens and shit.

umkay? think it over.

8/28/2006 12:02 PM  
Anonymous TB said...

Is there something deeper going on that is fueling this internal struggle? A chance to move back? I'm curious.

8/28/2006 12:37 PM  
Blogger Mrs. Harridan said...

Ooooh, Craftsman house: drool.

Anyone who would rip out a Japanese maple in favor of anything else has big problems. That really is criminal.

8/28/2006 5:30 PM  
Blogger lildb said...

if I ever catch that girl at Stumpy's, I'll give her a talking-to she won't soon forget. who rips out Japanese maples for raised beds and grasses?

I mean it.

p.s. I promise that when you come back around for some more of Portland's good lovin', I'll be here to, um, huh. I'm really not sure how to finish this without sounding as though I want to have sex with you. So I'll just end this here before I say anything too embarrassing.

what's that? too late? oh.

*creeps away all hunched over*

8/28/2006 10:18 PM  
Blogger mamalujo1 said...

Old residences as old lovers, hmmm, good analogy. Humor me a moment, please.

Where I grew up, and where I live now (East Tennessee countryside): my one and only true love. Beautiful, yes, but on the inside even more so. Country and simple but close enough to the big city for culture.

Atlanta: the hot, sexy, demanding girlfriend. Dumped me but I needed dumping.

Copenhagen: beautiful ,charming, sexy but cool about it. I couldn't have kept my southern countryboy roots hidden forever, though.

Nashville: Snobby and wouldn't put out. The coeds too.

Mobile: Our little craftsman outside the garden district was like the cute girl next door, who liked sex. But the city itself was just a provincial old south snob parent that never liked us and didn't want their daughter to have anything to do with us. Awesome food though.

Good post!

8/29/2006 11:26 AM  
Blogger Ditsy Chick said...

Holy Hell I am on the slacker list...yeah, I deserve it...I did the reverse move, moved from a small town to a big city...there is good about both...but I miss the little town in Idaho....

8/29/2006 2:12 PM  
Anonymous arabella said...

Very well said. You can meet up with Portland periodically for little trysts, like in that movie whose name escapes me. I want to say From Here to Eternity, but it's not that.

Same Time Next Year? Maybe that's it.

8/29/2006 6:11 PM  
Anonymous V-Grrrl said...

The hard part of having left the U.S. behind is that it will never be the same for me. I call my blog V-Grrrl in the Middle because I feel I'm not fully at home anywhere anymore. That's what I get for being a slut and falling for the European city with a French accent.

8/30/2006 4:05 AM  
Anonymous Nancy said...

Sounds like you and Portland are not quite through. Maybe a few weekend trysts once in a while -- I think Missoula can take it.

8/31/2006 5:10 PM  

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