Wet

The thing about Portland is you just can't have an umbrella. It rains here. I would say it rains a lot, but that just hasn't been the case of late. Still, having such a thing as an umbrella would make sense to the outside observer. And yet, you would be wrong.

A good rain jacket is fine. We are afterall the birthplace of columbia sportswear. REI started just three hours north. But among the young and hip right now, wet is in. Choosing to walk the damp streets in fashion rather than functional garb is a meter for cool. "I'm getting wet and I don't fucking care." "I'd rather be soaked than look lame." I am one of these people... sometimes, at least. It's just plain silly. We honestly don't have enough sense to come in from the rain.

I'm on this tangent because it is, in fact, raining right now. After the Winter that Never Was, people are seriously excited about it. And amid the gray skies I went out yesterday to see a brooding piece of theater called "Tape" in which an old friend of mine stars. You can read the review here and see a picture of said friend. He's the one with the mustache yelling. The play was mediocre, but it was a pleasure to watch Clay act. He's got talent, and while this wasn't his best performace, it's nice to see him doing something again.

The rain makes me want to read. And smoke, which I don't. It makes me long for fireplaces and watching movies cuddled with people in blankets. It makes me want to walk through neighborhoods and smell the wet world and the smoke from peoples chiminies.

Thank you for reading.