6.13.01

I remember I wanted to jot down something about that funny little bar called The 420 Club I saw just a couple of blocks from Tom's house. Topless dancing, the walls said. Hemp clothing and tobacco products sold inside. What else could you need? Must be 18 or older; ID required. It called itself "A gentleman's juice bar". I love the possibilities of "juice" in that slogan. I love Portland. With each visit more so. Buying gas and groceries without sales tax, driving past the dessert place on the way to the bridge that drops me off right at Powell's and Powell's is a place where one can ride out the rain with others of like-kind in wrinkled loose clothing, invariably something flannel a part of the adornment. And the Chinese tea garden where there is a teahouse managed by young tea freaks. I went to them and asked them to talk to me about Gong-fu and they sat with me for a long time pouring me oolong and pu-err. One came by and said he'd heard I studied tea and his eyes were auburn and burning with intent as he waited for the answers to his questions about Korean tea. Said he'd been to China. Someone else said he spoke Mandarin. They all said to come back. Consider yourself part of the family. This wouldn't have happened in Seattle.

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