Brick By Brick

Salam @ Pioneer Place

Saturday, February 12th, 2011:  Portland's Egyptian population, as well as many other Middle Eastern and North African immigrants congregated downtown at Pioneer Square to celebrate the resignation of Hosni Mubarek, the U.S. backed strongman who has acted as Egypt's president since 1981.  Despite the cold winter afternoon, the atmosphere was electric:  Egyptian flags waved in the fierce wind while young men played doumbeks and djembes.  A crowd of Egyptian transplant heralded the "new Egypt" with Arabic tinged anthems and chants such as "Shah-- Go home, as-salam Islam" and "Brick by brick, wall by wall, we saw Mubarek fall".  There was celebration food:  Sugar glazed treats called Meshabek and the traditional dessert Knafeh, as well as cupcakes and Amaretti cookies.  Children ran around playing tag with bands of red, white and black painted on their face while an elderly hippie lady personally commended every single flag-bearer for the courage of their nation.  There was an admixture of nationalities and beliefs there in solidarity, especially transplants from the Middle East.  The variety of people in attendance lends credence to the wave of dissatisfaction sweeping the world right now.  

Salam's family is from Syria.  Her father brought her to the rally to lend support and praise for the people of Egypt and their new-found liberty.  I assume that in expressing solidarity with the protestors, her family was also expressing their own discontent with the authoritarian regime of Syrian President Bashar al Asad, although Salam did not speak to that directly.  "It's not free like America," she explained, "Arab states are tired of their leaders.  There are some good ones, but it's not like America".  And herein lies the paradox:  While America is seen as a bastion of freedom in the eyes of the oppressed, the American government supports (or at least tolerates) oppressive regimes to ensure a stable supply chain of cheap oil or strategic opportunities.  The exploitation is palpable and it's boiling over:  Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Morocco, Iran, Iraq, Syria, Bahrain, Yemen, Oman, Wisconsin-- the days of rage are here, freedom's on the march.  

Your Brain On Drugs

Cerise @ Avalon Theatre

The interior of the Avalon Theatre is your brain on drugs.  Take all the pretty lights, synthesizers, and digital hullabaloo from a regular arcade, throw it in a time machine and transport it back to Las Vegas circa 1985.  Then add a bunch of creepy clowns, stir in some disgusting carpeting, and pepper it with a dash of lingering (yet inexplicable) unease and Voila! you have the dingy nickel arcade/movie-house known as Avalon Theatre a.k.a Electric Castle's Wunderland.  It is the perfect place for hiding from ex-lovers, ether-induced freakouts, keeping warm when your homeless (movies just $2.75, yo!), or bug out to video games all day and win cheap plastic shit and snap poppers!  Cerise and her friends, for instance, were there one dreary Sunday afternoon kicking ass at Galactix.  Draped in ticket winnings, they strategized on which games would maximize their winnings, so that they could afford a giant bouncy ball with a smiley face on it (875 Avalon Dollars).  They could not hide the frenzy in their eyes!  If The Gipper were still alive he would declare a war on Avalon Theatre.  Either that or he would spend the afternoon playing Big Buck Hunter, so that he could win an oversized Crayola Crayon Balloon.            

Megachurch

"Youth Pastor Phil" @ The Apostolic Faith World Headquarters

"Youth Pastor Phil" is a false prophet and an asshole.  Should you hear him blaspheme the glory of Jesus, bless thine ears and renounce his profane chatter!  Instead of exalting God's #1 Son and His Top 10 miracles, Phil whittles away his depraved life remixing R. Kelly songs for pleasure, harassing Liam Gallagher on Twitter, and hanging out with jerks like me.  To wit: one sunny January afternoon we embarked on an epic quest to find "The Megachurch", a mysterious compound that I had spotted somewhere on the outskirts of SE Portland.  Our mission was to find it, infiltrate it, and take a Tarot picture beneath the giant Jesus sign.  Phil dressed in white for the occasion, as not to arouse suspicion amongst the flock.
      

"The Megachurch" turned out to be The Apostolic Church World Headquarters on SE 54th and Duke.  Although the immaculately manicured topiary out front spells "Welcome" in chubby, nonthreatening letters, the front gates were locked and there were checkpoints guarding the entrances.  We considered  jumping the compound's rigid cast iron fence, but thought better of it as Phil irreverently pointed out:  "I don't think that fence is for keeping people out, I think it's for keeping people in".  We looked for an entrance around the back, but all we found was the Apostolic Campground, a massive cluster of shacks nestled in the shadows of the pines.  The Jonestown similarity was palpable enough to make us reconsider our harebrained scheme, so we pulled the tarot cards out front where God wouldn't see us.  Of course the first card Phil drew was The Devil, proving beyond the shadow of a doubt that he is a slave to Beelzebub, his dark prince.  At first, I had a good laugh over this poetic justice, but I got my comeuppance later that night when I contracted food poisoning from a quinoa dish at Blossoming Lotus and vomited uncontrollably for the next two days.  The moral to this story is:  Don't mess with megachurches-- they have eerie powers-- and wash your quinoa thoroughly because it apparently has a thin layer of saponin that, while usually benign, can make you really sick.


  

Small Talk

Ted @ 7-11 (Hawthorne)

Ted has been working at the same 7-11 longer than I've lived in Portland.  When I first moved here three years ago, I spent a couple weeks on a friend's couch a few blocks away.  Whenever I needed beer of smokes or whatever, I would walk over to 7-11 and inevitably make small talk with Ted.  He is a master of chit chat, always smiling and being genuinely friendly and engaging.  Quite a few of our conversations revolved around the crazy techno music he would play during his graveyard shifts.  

Years later, he's working at the same location and still smiling.  He took some time in between customers to take a photo outside the store and make small talk.  "Have you ever seen that HBO show, Carnivale?" he asked, "Your cards look just like the ones they use!"  He explained that "Carnivale" is about an old-timey circus sideshow with a daaaark secret.  Tarot cards are often used as a plot device, eerily foreboding events to come.  The Little Man from Twin Peaks also stars in it and therefore it must be good.  Thanks for the recommendation, clerk.           

Settlers

Stephanie & Daniel @ Mt. Tabor

I met these two lovebirds atop Mt. Tabor one drizzly afternoon in November.  They were strolling arm in arm, taking in the view along the ridge.  I politely approached them and asked if they would participate in my art project.  Stephanie declined with a bit of nervous laughter, but her partner, Daniel, bypassed his initial reservation and agreed to give it a shot.  While listening to my interpretation of the cards, he became very keen on the whole experience and gently cajoled Stephanie into picking some cards herself.  It seemed as though her anxiety stemmed from a fear that the cards would indicate some tension or flaw in their relationship.  She was obviously very in love, so I affirmed the cards would tell her nothing that she didn't already know and made special sure to acknowledge the cards truthfully, but respect the genuine affection and support these two had for one another. 

The tarot touched on their relationship briefly, but the theme had more to do with finding one's place in the world.  I don't really remember the reading verbatim, but I do remember the conversation that transpired from it.  Daniel told me that he is from Croatia and emigrated to the United States from Germany in the late 90's.  He met Stephanie in New York City and fell in love.  A few months ago they moved to Portland together.  Although financial stability is still to be desired, this is the first time in their lives that they truly feel at home; they want to settle down and make Portland their home.  Daniel related this desire to nest is to an astrological phase that is currently ending, a thirteen year Gemini cycle that he claims induced and supported a prolonged period of exploration for him.  Thirteen years after he left Croatia, he has found himself here with Stephanie, committed, connected and content to call Portland home.  I asked him why he chose Portland and he pointed out the fact that we, complete strangers, were standing on the rim of a small volcano having a random conversation in the drizzling rain, reading tarot and making art.  "That's the difference between Portland and other cities I lived in," he said, "This conversation couldn't happen anywhere else".        

Labor of Love

Jessie Dettwiler @ Mississippi Studios

Jessie is a classically trained cellist and all around gadabout that I met while attending Naropa University in Boulder, Colorado.  Although she enjoyed Naropa well enough, she was dissatisfied by it's music program and dropped out to pursue her artistic ambitions in Portland.  Since her relocation, she has performed with many fine musicians (Strangers Die Everyday, Autopilot is for Lovers, Portland Cello Project), but eventually settled on a fulltime labor of love with longtime collaborator, Stirling Myles.  Their band Alameda is geared up to release it's first album, Seasons/Spectres, in March 2011, should they square up the funds necessary to bankroll it.  To aid their cause, they produced a Kickstarter video, in which Jessie, forever the mistress of elegant elocution, narrates a pensive plea for your hard earned dollar.  Let her gentle voice woo you, friend-- reach into your pocket and pull out your credit card, type in your pin, and support quality musicians.  Should all else fail, Jessie will have to sweep away the dust of her crushed dreams and fall back on her plan B:  Crochet yarn monsters and sell them on Etsy (shudder).  Please don't make her do that.  Donate with the quickness!    

*Update!  Alameda made their goal, which is superfly.

Princess Leia

Kara, Kyle, and Leia Srnka @ Their Home

Attention nerds!  Naming your daughter after a Star Wars character will not make her an indigo child, but it will make her AWESOME.  Baby Leia, for example, is one years old and she's already boogying to Bowie, gazing dreamily at pictures of The Lizard King, and prophesying the future with her very own baby tarot cards!  She also dresses ultra-fashionable for special occasions such as her first birthday party.  Little boys best beware-- she will break your heart and then eat your cupcake!  She will also eat your burrito, even if it's doused in tabasco  Hot sauce ain't shit to her, even Secret Aardvark.  And you know what makes Baby Leia giggle?  Ralph Steadman's schizo-psychedelic ink splattered hallucinations.  This is all true.  Leia's a bad ass who lives up to her name.  Little Rebel Rebel, she.            

One Size Fits All

Chris Knox @ Goose Hollow Student Housing

Chris no longer lives in Goose Hollow; the exorbitant cost of the student housing facility forced him to drop out of college halfway through his Senior year and move out of his apartment.  Three weeks into his last semester at PNCA, Chris found himself owing the school $4000 for his living quarters.  Financial Aid officials informed him that, as per regulation, any debt over $1000 prohibited him from registering for upcoming courses.  Having no cosigner for his loans and no immediate scholarship opportunities, Chris was well and truly fucked.  He attempted to remedy the situation, immersing himself in a Kafkaesque bureaucracy, where bursars and secretaries and suits would acknowledge the absurdity of this one-size-fits-all prohibition and promise to help, but would ultimately have no influence or impact on the situation.  No loopholes could be found in this vicious cycle and Chris had no choice but to drop out of school and leave student housing.

As his final project, Chris created a paper mache eagle head, feathered it with torn up syllabi and wore it to his last day of classes.  In the halls of the academy, he created an installation/performance art piece, in which he used notes, tests, past projects, and other accumulated PNCA memories to assemble a giant nest.  The performance culminated with him abandoning his nest in protest, leaving behind the remnants of an ambition left incomplete; an education cut short by haphazard rules, slumlord mentality, and bureaucratic impotence.  

Chris is now living in a two bedroom apartment with four friends, writing comic books and working to pay off his debt.  He has no plans to return to PNCA and noticeably shudders at the mere mention of that particular institution.     

Pillow Talk

Emily Kastrul @ Pal's Clubhouse

Emily plays accordion for acoustic shanty-grass outfit Dapper Cadavers.  She told me that their name was influenced by a musician named Calvin Johnson.  Word is one of the band members had a brief fling with him and was inspired to name the band Dapper Cadavers in honor of their sordid affair*.  I don't know how true this is, because why would a twee-punk legend be hooking up with a doey-eyed chula from Portland, OR who plays fiddle or whatever in a barefoot hippie jugband?  Hmmm... I guess when worded like that it's somewhat plausible. 

If this is in fact true, the whole nature of Calvin Johnson's pillow talk is called into question.  Is he a hopeless romantic:  "Fair mistress, the sun betwixt the sheets and your alabaster frame, asparks desire from without this befuddled heart:  This apple -john.  Like a dapper cadaver, I am slave to the earth, my nurse and to your embrace."  Or is his pillow talk more in the vein of a Dickensian U.K. prick?  "Oi, Another bunk-up, eh bird?  She's lookin like a dapper cadaver with that here hairy-axe wound she is."  

I don't know why I imagine this guy to be British, he's actually from Seattle:  "Baby, consumer America is just a dapper cadaver compared to this junk I scored on Capitol Hill last niiiiiiiiiiiigh...."  

Okay, I'm done.  That concludes today's episode of Indie-Pop Celebrity Pillow Talk.  Good night and good...  Wait one minute!  THIS JUST IN!!!!!!

From Emily K. via e-mail 

"Calvin Johnson had taken home a former roommate of the band members, not actually anyone in the band. I think he's pretty well known for sleeping with younger women... Anyway, we'd been trying to find a name (among names that didn't work include Bone Dry Shoe, which was seen on a sign in Olympia, and another name that none of us could pronounce properly but sounded really steampunk), and she suggested The Dapper Cadavers, after a lyric in one of his songs."

My apologies for the mix-up Emily!  I am still apt to believe that Calvin Johnson uses the term "dapper cadaver" in his pillow talk and/or exquisite seductions, but then again I still kind of believe that he's secretly British as well.