**eastward movement is included


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.


dizzzasta said...

btdubya, her name was actually 'Molly.' And I think I deserve some mad props for introducing you to those obscure beers and pretentious patissseries.

color me honored to officially be mentioned in your blog.

but really, should you be so...'open' about these things?

Nicole said...

rest in peace, Buck O'Neil.
i wanted to marry george brett when i was 5.
i like 'in case we die', too.
isn't saying your 'humility was off the charts' a contradictory statement?
i enjoy your blogs.

ercwttmn said...

lovely tribute corbin.

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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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