postandeason

P-Funk

by Pan Frederick

The two things I enjoy most about Portland, Oregon, as of today, are as follows: 1. The power of the pedestrian. If you're standing on the side of the road and it appears as though you may be thinking about possibly wanting to cross the street, cars will stop, sometimes screech, to let you walk. 2. No sales tax. If something costs $9.95, it costs $9.95. If you only have two dollars and two quarters and an iced coffee costs $2.50, you're getting an iced coffee. These are two very beautiful things.

Two things I am still getting used to: 1. Portland men. 2. Portland men. I just don't get 'em. Maybe there's nothing to get. Maybe they're really not that different. Maybe I've lost my mojo. Or maybe they're all nuts. Fucking loony. Don't get me wrong. Good looks, motivation and creativity are in abundance. However, shyness, taken-ness and asexuality are also rampant. 

A few other things I've noticed: 1. Every store smells like a thrift store. 2. Vegetable gardens are often in the front yard, and they tend to spill onto the sidewalk. 3. People who look homeless may not be. 4. Happy Hour is required. 5. Haircuts are optional. 6. Eyewear as fashion, rather than function, is encouraged. 7. Lesbians do exist. Although sometimes they are mistaken for death metal band frontmen. 8. Indie-rock is king. 9. Unless you're anti-trendy. 10. In which case you're so far underground, you might as well be a mole. 

I started reading the book Fugitives and Refugees by Chuck Palahniuk.  It's about the people of Portland, or the "most cracked of the crackpots." The book begins with an interview with Katherine Dunn, a writer and poet of Portland. I think she lays it out nicely...

"Everyone in Portland is living a minimum of three lives. Everyone has at least three identities. They're a grocery store checker, an archeologist and a biker dude. Or they're a poet, a drag queen and a bookstore clerk. It's tricky because all the rich people are in disguise. You never know when the scruffy guy behind the counter could be someone rich enough to buy the store, chew it up and spit it out. The nice little old ladies from the West Hills - with sweater sets and pearls - they're all rabid advocates of the death penalty. We just accumulate more and more strange people," Dunn tells Palahniuk. "All we are are the fugitives and refugees."

Portland's funny. It draws people for accidental reasons. I've yet to meet anyone who is actually from here. But I've also only been here two weeks. And I haven't met that many people.