a ridiculous lack of lighting

There is virtually no light here. At night I mean. In the daytime, in the morning when I wake up with the chills and the shower is far away and comforting but the space between there and the covers is something immeasurably far and undesirable the light pours in from a somewhere sunny globe and in through these green thin curtains. At night there is little to nothing. A small lamp with a shade I don't bother with in a small corner shedding anything hardly reminiscent of light and outside maybe a street light some number of streets over reminding me faintly that we connect with one another somehow. Little dots drawing us closer to ourselves, feeding off a sense of finally being somewhere.

So this is it. I am day three in Portland and already behind in a promise to start writing more often more seriously. This is the first day of writing and the first day of having accomplished something if not much. At 1030 I woke up and walked for three hours around Portland making a circular triangle of the area hovering around NE 17th to the Hollywood District down to Lloyd Center (more for worse than better) and then back to the start.

What have I learned? Not much. There is a bookstore on broadway (literally) that I will turn in a resume to tomorrow. An Ethiopian Cafe called the Blue Nile that I need to check for coffee. Some vintage shop Gilgamesh. The Tonic Lounge, according to my roomate, is for hipsters and thus is some place that I will at least attempt to stomach. At the mall I thought I would find shoes and instead found the most disgusting bathroom I have ever walked into, as well as ice skating. My other roomate's bar, Chesterfields, is within walking distance.

Likely I will make a habit of three hours walks in different directions. Find new things, new places new parks or ideas or thoughts somewhere. I mean they can't hide forever.

I lost a bit of something in this post through a two hour interruption. It is a start and the name troubled me more than anything else. This is just stretching for the real game. Something to use to keep in touch with old friends, and to remind myself of the names of places I've run into and need to return to.

At times this will be silly and sad and artsy and dumbly poetic and forgive me for these times, but those who know me well enough will understand and not think poorly I hope.

This will be more often more enlightening. I will detail my car trip soon. I must find a job. Or at least, I must apply myself towards a job. Something somewhere.

Adios.