I finished the last blog in a place called “Stumptown
Coffee.” I had asked my own twin Piss to use my own credit card to buy a mocha
for me as to save time, since they wanted to leave and they were waiting for me
to finish typing. The idea that they do not care about this blog leaves me with
a deep, scientific sadness. Yes-Yes told me late one night that documentation is
important in all instances, so I merely thought that this would be considered
to be one of those very instances.
We spent several minutes in the van doing absolutely nothing,
for the city had offered very little. We eventually decided to go to a record
store (I think it was 2nd Avenure) where we bought Crass – “CHRIST,”
The Pogues – “RUM, SODOMY, AND THE LASH,” a bootleg live Pogues LP, Devo –
“DUTY NOW FOR THE FUTURE,” something by Tom Waits – “BAD AS ME,” some appealing
tea shirts, Crass – “PENIS ENVY,” The Cramps – “SONGS THE LORD TAUGHT US,” and
an unashamed purchase of The Transplants – “IN A WARZONE.” Timebomb pulled me
aside during my browsing to direct my attention to the defecation of a crust
punk in front of one of the governor’s offices. It was of an enormous quantity.
I have been doing mild research on crust punks lately, and I have discovered
few things about them, though I hope I am permitted to learn more.
We went to a Target outside the city limits because we were
all feeling overwhelmed by the population of Portland. I thought a suburban
Target would be an excellent place to spend time on a toilet, but it ended up
being one of the worst moments I’ve had this tour so far. While I was
toileting, a loud man barged into the restroom, screaming into his cellular.
Never had I heard such raw anger – it made me fear for my physical safety, as
if he would yank me from my seat and beat me into wet crumbs. I decided to take
a break, so I exited and waited outside, notifying several Target authorities
of the situation. A muscular Target employee with super-strength emerged from a
nearby isle and confronted the man, who aggressively raised his voice at the
powerful employee. The Target employees then instructed me to continue using
the bathroom while they stood guard. When I was finished, there was no one
outside except Airick, wearing his new Husker Du shirt.
We ate foul forms of nutritional sustenance with the
remainder of the day, such as macaroni-and-cheese burritos and spicy tofu mush.
We parked, slept, spoke, and Yes-Yes successfully completed a load of laundry
at a nearby Laundromat. We presently relocated to Blackwater Records, a small
record store with a powerful edge. On that gripping cliff-hanger, I will have
to wait until later today when I have more time to detail the epic events of
our show at the Laughing Horse in Portland, Oregon.
“You can keep your shoegaze, but I’m going to keep listening
to my fucking oi!”
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