Fear and Loathing in NE Portland Metro

I watched the movie Gonzo last night.
My phenomonal human being of a housemate, Jude, came along, and we seriously got down on some popcorn. I figured we could have dropped some acid and brought a couple of fifths along in honor of the late Hunter S. Thompson, but then we might not get the full intensity of the documentary.
You have to hand it to him... he was passionate, he was a bionic, fully functioning addict, and he was passionate... He walked the talk, and he composed himself in a manner that was somehow an expression of the anger he had towards the development of classism, racism, and greed.
He gave a damn, enough to share it with others.... It's like he had a little jar of ink... totally full, sitting there... And he knew every fucking thing about that ink, he knew it so well, and he had a million different ways to describe it, he knew it backwards, the taste, smell, sensation on your skin, every damn thing about the ink, and others knew of the inks existence, but didn't really know how to acknowledge it, or how to ask permission to look at it or touch it, and were afraid to tell other people that they desired to see and touch, or maybe even sip on the ink... So they just kept pretending like they weren't interested..

So then Hunter took that bottle of ink, blew the lid off with most likely a firearm, and dumped the ink all over ground, and on top of the highest hill, so that everyone would start to see little bits of it spilling past... they could see a glimpse of what they desired to talk about or taste, but they still didnt' share with others about their own excitement or passions, or about the feelings they were having about this new substance that had appeared. They just looked up the hill at Hunter and smiled...
And then they went in their rooms, packed their shit in to a bag, and took off in search of where this ink might be headed... It was better than bullshitting with their folks, and all the narrow minded jerkoffs that didnt' know any better that they blah blahed with on a daily fuckin basis.

Hunter didn't know the formula for the ink, and he didn't even know if the ink should exist, or if it was a toxic substance created out of possession and greed that formed in to a democracy... of fat lifeless bloodsuckers..

Ok, yikes, I'm going to backtrack a bit, I started this entry tonight becasue I was feeling inspired, and delighted to be around people whom I value so much, and people whom I value their values so much.
As well as, it's nice to find harmony within severe differences of myself and people whom I don't find common heart strings with.

I love my Mother for being who she is... for wanting to take care of everyone else, and is the rock of a large family for compassion, shelter, and words of caring and love. I love that my Mom and I are not similar, and that we are finding a harmony in our relationship... Finding peace among broken pieces, and walking that course when daughters become women in a world unlike their Mother's when they were in their saturn return (yay Tina!)

I love my new friend Jude, for demonstrating strength, agility, balanced living, and inspiration to so many others who look up to her, especially young women who are told and shown that they aren't meant to achieve in such a way. She doesn't even know that she is constantly living the life of a role model, and that's part of what makes her shine...

I love my sister for no matter what, even when I'm crazy busy and have lost my phone for the 97th time, and haven't called her back in weeks, still somehow finds a way to let me know that she just thinks I'm beautiful and misses me... She finds time to break and melt my heart. I love her so much, it breaks because she's not next door, but it melts because her smile and thoughts reach across the world, no matter where we are, or where we will be tomorrow.

I love my dearest friend Neil, who will never know how perfectly disastrously beautiful he is. I desire to be in his company because of the truest form of human he is, and how it challenges my present existence. How he allows me to be a child, and facilitates my neivity in ways that become opportunities for growth and the unveiling of social justice issues. His patience is an expression of his love, at least that's how I interpret it. He let's me stay 20 percent flighty, yet grounds me by the simplist of comments, in a way that only a kindred spirit could. His soul is emminently powerful and will forever be shadowed by nothing but the most ancient of trees...

I love my darling girl Tina at the Gypsy Cafe, as well as the other women there, but Tina has made efforts lately to communicate with me, and I find myself desiring to communicate back, which is unusual for me. I am the classic case of "Hey whatcha been up to?? Gotta go, let's hang some time..." and then never do, because what I really meant to say was, "Hey, you don't light my fire, and you don't care about anything I've done since 1998, so let's just drift, and let the tides decide if we should meet again."
But with this group of women, and with Tina, I am verifiably interested in what she has to say, and what she's getting in to. It all goes back to that value system. She is good for the Earth, and she is full of love and joy, and breeds and shares nothing but words of personal growth, eternal wisdom, and youthful and physical embracement of the elements and the sexuality of this ancient world. I love her like I love the way how Maggie's brow is warm and soft after a long nap, and how a baby watches and giggles at their older sibling when they do silly things, and how cute newborn peppers are when they start to bud, and how the lakes and ponds freeze over at 1000 acres during the winter, and we can walk for what seems like forever in to an unknown forest on ice.

I love you all like Jimmy Buffet likes Margaritas...
fins to the left... fins to the right...
Night Night.
.....aaaaaaaa