**eastward movement is included


a melody by no means delicate but genuinely hopeful.

YES. i have to work this weekend. a lot. NO, i'm not upset about that ... well, maybe a little. but YES, this is what i went to school for. am i losing my mind? YES, without question ... but that is a separate issue.

i'm tired of defending my choices. what's the deal with people giving you 'that look' when you tell them you have 'obligations' outside of watching bad network television and drinking beer? this sincerely perplexes me.

i've been subjecting myself to this wave of 'humility' for some time now; i'd say it started several years ago when i hated my living situation sophomore year of college, and it's continually strengthened up to this point. this may sound like predictably repetitive and tired rhetoric on my part, but i'm becoming convinced this terribly addictive 'earthy' attitude of the northwest is, in fact the best fit for me. {kansas city showcases some of this as well, but it is terribly devoid of a necessary progressiveness that i'm surrounded by out here.}

furthermore, i don't lose my temper often, and i feel like i'm relatively grounded. i sometimes say outrageous things {mostly for show?} but that's just because i can be a jerk and typically find our day-to-day minutiae rather empty and banal. but i digress ... it's just that every now and then i get punched in the face with a stinging fistfull of ignorance; i'm talking a brass-knuckled bitch-slap coupled by a square kick to the groin, and i'm left fucking speechless.

the point: the other night i was just reminded how dangerously simple it is for people to become so influenced, corrupted, and disillusioned ... simply by a new set of surroudings. is that really all it takes to fall off the reality wagon? a new, big city? apparently ...

yes, i myself am in a new set of surroundings, i am loving my new living situation, my new home, my new 'friends,' ... but i really don't think i've lost track of reality. at least i hope not. how i arrived at this conclusion is not important. i just know that i possess a sincere feeling of sympathy, not anger towards anyone that naively indoctrinates the consummate mindset of perfection and impeccability of one's 'place.' it's immature. it's terribly uncultivated. and it's insulting.

i guess this is just me at my best; annoyed and disappointed at the same time, hopelessly idealistic and wishing the world would pull it's head out of it's ass. maybe i'm less connected with reality than i had early thought ...

on a lighter note : the latest rotation ::

deftones - white pony.
my morning jacket - at dawn.
heartless bastards - all this time.
fugazi - in on the kill-taker.
dj shadow - endroducing ...
tv on the radio - return to cookie mountain {can't stop listening to it.}
the national - alligator {still goin' strong.}
ambulance - LP.
of montreal - satanic panic in the attic.
jose gonzales - veneer.
dismemberment plan - emergency & i.
bb king - live at cook county jail. {okay, so i only listened to this once ... but i woke up needing some blues one morning.}

it seems as if there's some heavy stuff in there, both lyrically and sonically, but i think my choices are merely a reflection of my mood and state of mind as of late. take that for what it's worth.

- so how many people have changed their myspace photo now that halloween has passed?

- i think i'm starting to grow out of {get sick of} myspace. i still don't plan on joining the facebook.

- what has two thumbs and couldn't be happier he's not in the state of missouri as every bud light swillin' god-fearing bmw driving cardinal fan celebrates the most statistically inept and drop-dead ordinary world series champion ever known? ehhh ... this guy.


Tunde Adebimpe



whoever said too much of a good thing obviously wasn't a twenty-something music snob living in portland. i suppose i could give a terribly wooden play by play of the day's events, but i owe it to my six or seven dedicated readers to put a little more effort into the ... ehhh ... effort. does that mean i'm trying to hard?

although i may be guilty of burning the candle at every possible end at the moment, seeing as i'm foolishly dividing my time between a handful of exhausting outlets, i will never regret spending lots of cash of live music. furthermore, if i ever backpedal on the subject, an intervention will absolutely be in order.

saturday was, in a word, superb ... not just musically, either. yes, mizzou was upset by the the fundamentalist christian movement otherwise known as texas a&m, but it was a small chip in the armor in an otherwise fabulous day. the cards were all in place ... no office work. the sky was cloudy. the agenda was empty. sweet people to hang with. let's do this.

michael and peter, two of sara's boys from kc {how many pembroke hill graduates now live in the northwest?} who now proudly reside in seattle came down for the weekend to put in some serious face time and stir up some trouble. they successfully defied the pembroke stereotype, {interpret as you wish} had considerably respectable taste in the fine arts and the nighttime mini-series circuit, and collectively possessed a pleasant sense of humor. basically, they straight up got it done. maybe everyone from kansas city is just that fantastic ...

anyway, the day started off with coffee and brunch at Genie's in southeast, followed by meandering around the pearl district to see Bullseye Glass' incredible gallery and a Chinese faux-antique store. it's pretty hilarious how entertaining it can be to sit on old lawn furniture made from recycled bicycle tires, giggle at anatomically correct Chinese mannequins and reminisce about the totally played {but forever irreplaceable} kansas city scene. saturday was also the fourth consecutive day i hadn't consumed any coffee {long story} yet was somehow was able to communicate on a level above simple moans and grunts. needless to say, the copious amount of caffeine thundering through my bloodstream had me tweaking out to levels previously thought unthinkable. basically, i felt incredible.

since we all had our pretentious pants laid out, ironed and ready to wear, that evening sara took us all to an emerging artists showing at the Bullseye warehouse. i failed to mention she works {answers the phone and fills the coffee machine} at the warehouse in southeast portland. they supply high-end glass to glass artists. needless to say, the job has proven to be as inspirational as a fall out boy concert.

so, free drinks? free finger food and meat snacks? an open invitation for corbin to run his mouth and embarss both himself and his innocent friends about the craft and composition of fifty different gorgeous pieces of glass artwork? ehhhm ... yes please! unfortunately, sara's promise of free booze proved to be ostensible, much to our disappointment. the thought of having to tactuflly stuff ourselves with chicken teryaki skewers, pickled portabello mushrooms and a basket of baked pita chips without a plastic glass of $8 wine is just flat out bogus. then again, when you have an employee of the company hosting the party in your corner, you pick yourself up and make some lemonade. and when i say 'make lemonade' i mean you steal unused nametags off the entry table and put the newly pocketed "1 drink" tickets to good use. smiles all around.

next thing i know, i'd been taxied to berbati's pan for the much anticipated act of the night, The National. i had really built this show up in my mind which typically results in a terrible letdown. typical. anyway, i hung out at the bar, drank a few guinessexes, read the mercury, worked on my posturing ... typical.

these three guys who called themselves the mobius band opened for the national. comparisons? well, if spoon was a little more synth-y and decided to grow some hipper facial hair, they'd still make more money than these guys. regardless, i was pleasently surprised. interestingly enough, two of the members reminded me quite a bit of both konnor ervin and brian mcguire, two of kc's finest gentlemen. the bassist, ervin's doppleganger, possessed a similar cool demeanor and stage presence that typically drives the ladies up the wall, but without the bulging man-bicepts. mcguire's doppleganger had a similar swagger and confidence. suddenly i felt transplanted back to the record bar on westport road, listening to the sweet sounds of dr. woo. this was the sort of nostalgia that i need {therapy?} from time to time.

so the national ... eh, kicked ass. it was nice to see intensity from the outside looking in for once ... what i mean is, the dynamcy of the show is simply based on their vascillation between a meditative 'hands away-esque' approach to a punch-you-in-the-face rocker like mr. november. i needed a break for a few hours from self-imposed self-deprication and self-doubt.

finally, if anyone wants to see one of the most beautiful things in the world, do yourself a favor and watch for carlos beltran belt a home run. the other night versus the cardinals he crushed a homer to left center. replay after replay allowed the viewer to watch how calmly his eyes followed the ball all the way to his bat and then fly 400 feet into the bleachers. watching beltran hit strikes me as a feat of brilliance, although i'm not sure exactly why.

questions ::

1. how many more politicians are going to profoundly exclaim, "this race isn't about left versus right, democrats versus republicans; it's about right or wrong" with such alacrity and self-richeousness before someone finally steps off their hypocritcal soapbox and says something they really believe?

2. does it bother anyone else that wal-mart says they're going 'organic'?

3. does anyone really know what 'organic' is anymore?

4. the more i think about it, the royals/cardinals world series has to be the least compelling matchup on a national scale. in '85 did anybody care when the state of missouri hosted the series? i doubt it.

5. is it ridiculous that i still read the kansas city star every morning?

and, finally a picture ... because a blog without a picture just isn't the same.

fish. in studio. workin' it.


alive and kicking is redundant.

"Baseball is better than sex. It is better than music, although I do believe jazz comes in a close second. It does fill you up.”

_John Jordan "Buck" O’Neil Jr. 1911-2006.

this sunday afternoon, i find myself happily overwhelmed on the number of topics at my fingertips. i've decided that october is my favorite month, fall is my favorite season, the dodgers are my second favorite baseball team, and that fox sports continues to have the most irritating baseball coverage on the planet. {how many unnecessary shots of stressed out fans do they need to show?} the major league playoffs alone provide a range of options; from my undying hatred of the cardinals to the joy of watching the perennially subjugate detroit tigers dominate the yankees. still, the passing of buck o'neil, a legendary human being seems to trump all of these.

buck o'neil has never directly affected me. i never met him, and have only been in his presence once; when he gave a speech at rockhurst my junior year. but kansas city was his hometown, baseball was his lifelong joy, and in the category of 'celebrated hometown sports figures' he represented humility and duty; the perfect alternative to geoge brett's pretension and bloated ego. it's comforting to know that people recognized him for this. but then again, it's difficult not to take notice when someone is so consistantly generous, kind, forgiving, and willing to set a positive example. the only thing left now is to make sure 1. his legacy never dies and 2. he gets into cooperstown. i'm hopeful both will come true.

i also recently came to the realization i never talk about my job on this blog. furthermore, i have never really spoken at any substantial length regarding architecture, design, or any related field. i don't see this changing any time soon. read between the lines ...

lately, i've been including the following have been showing up with greater frequently in my diet ::

1. steel cut oats {eaten with less frequency as regular oats, of course.}
2. macadamia nut butter.
3. pears {purchased at the farmer's market.}
4. cardamom.
5. frozen fish.
6. split peas.
7. soy {both milk & nuts.}

cd's in heavy rotation ::

1. pj harvey - stories from the city, stories from the sea. {the song with thom yorke is unbearable, though.}
2. archtecture in helsinki - in case we die.
3. the national - alligator.
4. tv on the radio - return to cookie mountain.
5. tv on the radio - desperate youth, blood thirsty babes.
6. pavement - crooked rain, crooked rain.
7. the black keys - rubber factory.
8. the black keys - the big comeup.
9. heartless bastards - all this time.
10. the thermals - the body, the blood, the machine.

in that vein, i would be remiss if i didn't acknowledge the hang that took place last night in southeast portland.

it all went down {mostly} at the pix pastisserie on division. my girl sara's friend from college {man that makes us sound old} molly, was in portland. her job? wilderness therapy. that's right - she works for the southern utah wilderness alliance mentoring troubled teenagers, encouraging responsibility and accountablity to kids who have otherwise never dealt well with such important, 'adult' issues ... by living primitively in the desert. incredible.

she 'works' for two weeks, off the grid, and then gets those two weeks back by travellying, visiting old friends {see: current portland visit} to decompress/regenerate/contemplate, etc. needless to say, my interest was piqued, respect was exchanged, and my humility was off the charts.

the point is, a lot was happening at once. The Pix showcases an oddly comfortable combination of hi-brow french pasteries, an incredible selection of obscure artisan beers, and {in typical se portland style} a terribly hip/bohemian atmosphere. then, much to my amusement, the barista had to go and put on pearl jam's vitalogy, quite possibly one of my favorite albums of all time, and play it start to finish. needless to say, my contribution to the conversation bottomed out, and i quietly sipped my $8 beer; happily soothed to silence.

in tranquility,

s. gossard.

About _

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New York, New York, United States
I take myself too seriously most of the time and I am trying to do that less. I remind some people of Woody Allen. I occationally indulge in the weekend camping trip. I adamantly support the Kansas City Royals baseball club. My identity is wrapped up in a few simple things, most of which are continuously displayed on this here blog.

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