The only time I'd been in a really small plane was on a sightseeing trip over the Grand Canyon when I was a girl. All ten or so passengers threw up on the turbulent flight except me and that was only out of sheer will. So a few months ago when my friend first asked... Continue Reading →
week forty-nine: the first last
When I first moved to Portland, the art walk/street fair/Portlandia skit come to life known as Last Thursday didn't exist. Alberta Street was not "The Alberta Arts District." Back then, the hipster bar was a Baptist church. The gift boutique was a boarded up store front. Slowly, artists started to move into the area (for... Continue Reading →
Week forty-eight: stand up and read, sit down and float
I kind of can't believe I have 48 of these things. At the same time, it really feels like this is the 48th. All I want to do is list the two new things I did this past week, upload a photo and call it a day. My reluctance to elaborate or dig deeper just... Continue Reading →
week forty-seven: silly summer adventure
The Enchanted Forest theme park sits on an oddly tantalizing perch visible from I-5 just south of Salem. Every time I was on that stretch of highway, I'd see the fake tudor buildings peeking out of the woods and promise myself that someday I'd go. So what if I didn't have kids? So what if... Continue Reading →
week forty-six: soaking it up, sweating it out
My new thing this week was going to be floating down the Deschutes in Bend. But the weather was against us. Cool temps and thunderstorms meant I decided to stay at home while my partner went off to Bend to visit his dad and play a gig. Two days off with no plans and no... Continue Reading →
week forty-five: the anticlimactic volcano
The 198o explosion of Mt. St. Helen's has been a point of fascination for me ever since I moved here. What must it have been like to be witness to that kind of crazy power, that kind of wild disaster? I can get lost in looking at pictures of the aftermath. Everything thick with ash.... Continue Reading →
week forty-four: the big float
My neighborhood in southeast Portland provides all the essentials within easy walking distance. It's easy to exist in a little bubble over here, rolling back and forth over the same 10 square blocks. Ever since I stopped commuting to the west side for work, I sometimes forget that there's a great big river that flows... Continue Reading →
week forty-three: under the bridge
I've never been in the loop. As far as new and local music goes, even in my twenties I was pretty clueless. I had friends that were regulars at Satyricon and La Luna and where else? See, I don't even know where else. I love music. I'm deeply moved by music, but I've never been... Continue Reading →
week forty-two: lake!
The last time I was in a good, swimmable lake was so long ago, the only photos I have of it are printed out and pasted into a photo album. That was a lake near Bar Harbor, ME in 2000. There was one float across a seaweed choked pond just off I-84 near Multnomah Falls... Continue Reading →
week forty-one: care a little less
I struggle with what I want my writing life to be. Struggle isn't the right word, though. It's too active. Too involved. Me and my writing and my caring about my writing create a fairly passive, only slightly more than occasional dynamic. But it does come up. I've sworn off writing entirely more than once.... Continue Reading →
week forty: dead lazy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SFCLWytjcUY My father's nickname for me as a kid was DL, or Dead Lazy. Of course, I hated this, even if from an objective point of view, it might have been true. I blame it on a Leo Lionni book I loved as a child called Frederick. It's about a field mouse who sits and... Continue Reading →
week thirty-nine: minor achievements, minor rewards
I've had the great privilege of sculpting my life into a shape of my choosing. It's comfortable here. All the curves and angles fit together really well. One reason it's such a good fit is that the vast majority of my responsibilities are to myself alone. While I honor the trust my clients put in... Continue Reading →
week thirty-eight: the first last goodbye
In a few weeks, my parents will be moving from the Boston suburbs to Portland so that they can be close by in their old age. This event has been in the works for years and for years I've pushed the idea out of my thoughts, insisting that I'd think about it later. Later is... Continue Reading →
week thirty-seven: botanical dreams
Many, many years ago I drove to a house that sat along Johnson Creek and the Leach Botanical Garden to do a trade with an acquaintance. I remember being surprised that a street so deep in southeast, just off Foster Rd. could feel so tranquil, lush and foresty. The trade was entirely unremarkable, but I... Continue Reading →
week thirty-six: the strange and untidy
This week I found out that the food cart pod near my office is being dismantled at the end of the summer to make way for a condo development. This is happening to several cart pods throughout the city. I know it's kind of petty to be saddened by the loss of these empty lots... Continue Reading →
week thirty-five: new art, new artist
This week I got a new tattoo surrounding an old tattoo, both done by the same artist, Joanne Martian. I hadn't been to the shop she and her husband own, the wonderful Martian Arts Tattoo, but the process of getting the tattoo was very familiar. The stinging, nagging pain of it was familiar. The artist... Continue Reading →
week thirty-four: unchaste
Work your way past the brightly lit pool tables and sports-filled TVs of The Rialto and go down into the basement, into The Jack London Bar. It's better down there. It's very dark and kind of cozy and the bartender is nice. I discovered this on Tuesday when I went there to attend the Unchaste... Continue Reading →
week thirty-three: sportsball redux, beach redux
This week's two new things sit on opposite ends of the socializing spectrum. On one side was a stadium of chanting, scarf waving, bird-flipping soccer fans. On the other was miles of hot sunny beach with nothing but crows and crabs for company. Going to a Timbers game has been on my list of things... Continue Reading →
week thirty-two: a (mostly) funny thing
This week was kinda the pits. Almost everyone I know seemed to be feeling a little wonky at best or completely miserable at worst. I'd spent my day off feeling soaked by the full, steady mist outside despite the fact that I was never really out in it. I'd been planning on one of several... Continue Reading →
week thirty-one: the new inside the old and the old disappeared
Sometimes the new thing is barely visible inside the old thing. It wasn't new that I got a massage this week, but it was an Ashiatsu massage, a technique I'd never tried before. In this form, the therapist uses their bare feet instead of their hands to release tight muscles. I don't think I've ever... Continue Reading →
week thirty: go it alone
I take walks by myself on a nearly daily basis. Sometimes it's just up the street to Mt. Tabor Park. Sometimes it's an urban stroll through a new neighborhood or a trek downtown. But I've never headed out of town for a hike on my own. On some level it's because I have a handful... Continue Reading →
week twenty-nine: a trip slightly south
It feels funny to swing wildly from the leap I made last week to the beautiful mundane pleasures of this week. One of the lessons of this year-long project has been to see how as soon as a new place is visited or a new thing accomplished, it quickly fades into the background or settles... Continue Reading →
week twenty-eight: an unknown shape
This week's new thing is an adventure in self-publishing and vulnerability (stupidity?). I've been thinking for some time about publishing one of my personal essays here. It would have to be something not written for this blog, but something languishing in a file on my computer. It would have to be important to me, not... Continue Reading →
week twenty-seven: winning (kind of)
I never win anything. Mostly because I never try to win anything. I don't play powerball, enter contests or buy raffle tickets. I don't play sports or board games. When I get into an argument I usually give up or change my mind before ever achieving victory. So, what a surprise it was when I... Continue Reading →
week twenty-six: on the up and up
I love the butter-light glow of houses at twilight when the lives of strangers are on display. I love the unkempt, backyard views from trains and trams. Seeing a bit of what is usually hidden is immensely appealing even if what is there is immensely mundane. The hidden staircases of Portland appeal to me in... Continue Reading →
week twenty-five: rose city rollers
The last time I went roller skating was about 20 years ago when a group of us went to live organ music night at Oaks Park. We didn't fit in so well with the older couples dressed in matching outfits swirling around the glossy floor with grace and ease. We were young and clumsy and... Continue Reading →
week twenty-four: elevator speech
Maybe you'll laugh. I know I did. On a beautiful mid-week morning, I got in my car and headed south down 99E to Oregon City just to ride our country's only outdoor municipal elevator. Kind of a ridiculous thing to do since it's just an elevator. It's just another small Oregon town. Why bother, right?... Continue Reading →
week twenty-three: kicking myself out of the house
I'm the first one to admit that I've lost perspective. The parameters of "normal" adult human behavior are kind of fuzzy. And while I usually feel somewhat adult-like or adultish, it's often in the sense that there's no one to stop me from doing stupid (and sometimes wonderful) things like eat cereal for breakfast, lunch... Continue Reading →
week twenty-two: a brief exhibition
The Associated Writing Programs (AWP) annual conference took place in Seattle this past week. I went to the conference years ago in Chicago and decided the chaotic shmooze-fest was something I only had to do once. People attend for different reasons, but I imagine many attend to connect with other writers and pursue relationships with... Continue Reading →
week twenty-one: go sports!
I've never been a fan of team sports. Not one lick. I appreciate the athleticism and skill required to play on a professional team and can usually find some pleasure in simply watching such fine-tuned bodies in motion, but I couldn't care less who wins. Intellectually and socially, I get why people rally behind a... Continue Reading →
week twenty: never not a novice
Forget super speed, or super strength. Forget invisibility, agility or telepathy. There was a time in my life (let's call that time yesterday) when, if given a choice of superpowers, I would have chosen super intelligence. And not just smart, but a few hairs shy of god-like omniscience. Why? Because I've always hated being a... Continue Reading →
week nineteen: meditations
All the usual resistances were there. I'd never done it so I didn't want to do it. I'd never been so I didn't want to go. I didn't know what to expect so I didn't know how to prepare. But this little blog post was waiting to be written. If I didn't try this, I'd... Continue Reading →
week eighteen: seaskysand
It's hard to write about the ocean. It's not just waves, black beach rocks, seafoam and sand. It's not just windbent trees, the long horizon, the scent, the swell, the hush and roar and hush and roar. It's not a list or an elaborate description, but it seems that's all I have. It's not just... Continue Reading →
week seventeen: history lessons
I've lived in Portland for over twenty years and feel deeply rooted here. My sense of history about this place, however, is also only twenty years old and looks mostly like a brief series of before and after photos. Before: the struggling art galleries, auto repair shops and empty fields west of Old Town, scented... Continue Reading →
week sixteen: tin chef
Sometimes I imagine standing up in front of an AA style meeting and announcing My name is Tracy. I'm Italian and I can't cook. As a teenager, I'd sit at my grandmother's dining room table and flip through the paper while she stood a few feet away stirring up a delicious pasta sauce or frying... Continue Reading →
week fifteen: the extremely mild, vaguely new adventures of 2014
For a vast majority of the last 20 years I've spent New Year's eve watching my partner play music with one band or another in one bar or another with one set of drunks or another. This year I skipped out and went to Seattle for something different. My friend's living room has a perfect... Continue Reading →
week fourteen: distraction holiday
This year was my holiday from holidays. Both Thanksgiving and Christmas were whittled down to nothing but having a quiet day off and eating pie. This week, my work schedule was mellow. My friends were busy with their own holiday celebrations. On Sunday night, I looked at the lull of the days ahead and knew... Continue Reading →
week thirteen: am I feeling it yet?
It's 1991. Let's say early October. My friend Amy and I meet in the hallway of our dorm. We look at each other and try to convince ourselves that we should do what we agreed to do. I fit my thumbs through the torn wristbands of my sweatshirt, hug my hands into my armpits and... Continue Reading →
week twelve: getting out of the groove
It's easy to poke fun at or be embarrassed by Americans abroad who will only eat at McDonald's and the like. We call them immature or provincial or ugly. They're taking the easy way, choosing the familiar over the foreign. If they were being asked to do something dangerous or taxing or complicated, it might... Continue Reading →
week eleven: an accumulation
The weak sun starts to set around 3 these days. By 4:30 it's dark. Until the light comes back, I'll follow up my afternoon naps with nine hours of sleep. I'll avoid festive gatherings in exchange for a pile of blankets, a long movie, a good book, a lapful of cats. For me, this time... Continue Reading →
week ten: noir at the bar
Portland could have found a seedier bar for their inaugural Noir at the Bar, a literary event that's been happening in cities all over the country since 2008. I was kind of hoping to settle into a night of readings by noir writers inside the sad, sketchy misery of The Matador on W. Burnside. Instead,... Continue Reading →
week nine: maintenance care
I'm not a fancy woman. I get uncomfortable in really nice restaurants and don't even dare set foot in higher end stores. I long ago gave up on the idea of having nice clothes since I inevitably ruin them with massage oil or spaghetti sauce or general neglect. And while I'm all for self-care, if... Continue Reading →
week eight: 100 guitars, 1000 miles
Almost no one has heard 100 guitars play together, all at once. And I'm pretty sure no one has taken a bus to Seattle, a cab to SeaTac, a plane to SFO, BART to a San Francisco hotel then BART to Richmond, then a cab to The Craneway Pavilion in order to see 100 guitars... Continue Reading →
week seven: dance fever
I used to leave notes in my mother's purse asking her questions I was too shy to ask out loud. The last one I left, around age 11, read, I want to learn how to dance. Will you let me take a class? My dance experience up to that point included the following: a single... Continue Reading →
week six: 3-minutes to nowhere
From where I live, I see Oregon Health Sciences University rising high in the west hills like a second downtown. To get to Pill Hill you have to wind your way up through a stand of lush green trees, as if you're heading out for a hike in the woods. But instead, at the top,... Continue Reading →
week five: our humble bodies, our glorious breath
Before this week, I'd only been in a hospital room once, about 15 years ago. All I remember is the dimness of the room at night and how bad I felt for crying the whole time, for making a sick man give me comfort. As my last post noted, I'd been avoiding visiting my friend... Continue Reading →
week four: breathing
I could say that, this week, there was the newness of sleeping in my roommate's bed, under his deliciously thick covers, tucked in by two cats, while my partner's father slept in ours. And the newness of that father moving through my house and around my life for a few days while I barely found... Continue Reading →
week three: rocky butte beauty
Last year, when I walked to and/or up Mt. Tabor every day, I got a lesson in discipline as well as a lesson in finding the new in the familiar. How many different routes could I find that led to the same place? If I climbed a path one day and descended it the next,... Continue Reading →
week two: kronos makes me cry
I was once the bored kid staring at the ornate ceiling of the symphony. All that scroll and gold leaf and the fact that I was in a dress, let me know that this was a special occasion. Not everyone got to sit in a velvet seat and listen to a symphony. But I didn't... Continue Reading →
week one: poetry, booze and pillsbury doughboys
Almost every day, I walk by the East Portland Eagle Lodge, a mural-wrapped one-story building sitting in the corner of a block-sized parking lot. On Thursdays there's a flea market in the lot. Once a month there's a twilight rummage sale indoors where you can drink a beer and browse through people's crap. I've been... Continue Reading →
Tracy Burkholder 