Part 5: I don't miss walking on the cobblestones...

Life is weird.

Life is weird in the way, that saying or even writing life is weird is weird.

This is one thing I've learned about life. I've learned that the best things in life steamroll. They don't happen, are pre-destined to happen, or just kind of f'n work the f out. No. The best things in life steamroll. They steamroll in the way that one thing becomes another thing and then another thing and then so on and so on. It's when things just click, when things just work out.

Tonight, I went out.

Going out is a rarity when I'm in Portland now. But Goddamnit- I'm kinda sorta on vacation and on the drive up- a drive that took approximately 97 songs and the entire Roots' album, Rising Down and the first three songs of My Morning Jacket's Evil Urges- I decided that I was going to go out and make the most of it. So I sent out text messages and I made a few phone calls. I made the occasional Myspace post and sent out a few Facebook messages.

I really communicated the shit out the situation in really, not that much time at all.

But tonight...holy shit, it looked like there was a firefly in the kitchen...I went out to dinner with Burly and it was fun, she was fun, she was awesome. She busted through a door that was secured with masking tape because her old soccer coach walked by and she wanted to say hello. Typing on this keyboard is like shooting an arrow with a bow. I even asked her if she wanted to go to Erin's wedding and I meant it.

After she left, I went back to the bar and met up with Amanda Panda Jellybean and upon securing a kickass picnic table, saw Obie walk down the cobblestones.

Obie! Hi yo!

That son of a bitch is gettin' married!

Our ten year high school reunion is only a few months away!

Didn't you hear about it on Facebook? I asked Keller.


They have their own Facebook page.

But what if I don't have a Facebook page? Keller asked.

I guess that's where I come in.

Ah to hell with it, we're getting older. We're not old, but yes, we are getting older. We are getting mortgages and jobs at desks and wedding rings and testicular cancer and comments about our asses and receding hairlines and excessive facial hair and a fondness for good red wine and a desire to take cooking classes.

We are getting to be almost thirty.

We are going to get a pitcher.

Another weather advisory came across the Sox game tonight- threatening of thunder storms- but unlike last night, there weren't any. It was a nice night, an almost perfect Portland summer night. A good ol' Portland summer night with Gritty's and girls in high heals trottin' cross the cobble stones and rock stars and disc jockeys and dogs and some of the cutest gals in the world. Really damn close to one of those nights where moving home might not be a bad idea.


But not quite close enough.

Sox lose a heartbreaker, get swept by the Rays.

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