The air is getting crisp in the morning, the first grilled cheeses and soups are being devoured, and the swifts are careening into plate glass doors with reckless abandon (yes, I’m the asshole who thought for my first three months in Portland that The Swifts were an indie band that played a really long gig at some elementary school every September). It must be fall in the Pacific Northwest, and with it comes entertaining season. You’re doubtless going to have company, you popular thing you, so kick that Scruff trick out of bed and get decorating for fall! As an amateur decorator and professional know-it-all, I’ve compiled some of my favorite tips to get your house looking so good, people will be fooled into thinking you have your life in order. I’ve been drinking from my box of wine as I write this, I’m sure that didn’t affect anything:
So much love for these Fools (photo by Jessica Sherman-Prince)
I studied theater in college, because of course I did. I mean, I didn’t get this weird entirely on my own, right? Then I fell in love, moved away from Albuquerque to Chicago for a few years, fell out of love, and eventually found my way back to New Mexico. It was then that I really immersed myself in the theater scene there. I helped found a Shakespeare company, directed for the first time, and found a passion for theatrical production design.
I moved to Los Angeles in 2001, ostensibly to start an acting career, but also because all of my friends made a mass-exodus to the west coast. I quickly found myself discouraged by the constant rejection. This isn’t making art, I argued in my own head, this is a business. There were so many other people who wanted it more than I did, and were far better at it than I was. I stepped away from pursuing acting, put my nose to the grindstone at my retail management job, and didn’t look back.
We’re walking along 10th Street near Everett. Karl and I just had the greasiest, sloppiest meal of our lives at Tilt (I’m sorry, but tater tots should not should be the size of my fist, or my increasingly struggling cardiac muscle). The first date had gone great for sure, ended in a make-out session that had startled my cat Ned away with its ferocity. We scheduled this date, the second one, even before the first had ended. I had good reason to be optimistic about this one. Holy shit, I had even saved his last name in my phone.
This place, walking past the yogawear shop, the rainwear store, the record shop that only sells cassingles, that’s where he drops the Bombshell. Not at the end of the date, and not a day or two afterwards, which would have been better. Here, while we’re wandering around the Pearl district and telling each other embarrassing stories about ourselves, this is where he ruins everything. Continue reading →
from l to r, Michael James Schneider, Jess Burchett, Blake Morgan
The scene fades up, and there I am, eating my lunch on a bench at the waterfront near downtown Portland. I’m on break from work, wearing a suit, and have ordered a tortilla positively stuffed with ingredients (local, organic, because Portland). I look up and there he is: the man of my dreams. Bearded and short, with glasses on that make him look smart (YAY EVEN IF HE’S NOT), wearing shorts that show off his legs, and walking his pug. I smile at him, and he smiles back.
Here in the PNW, it’s Pride Season, or as I like to call it, Summertime Sadness. I’ve gone to a couple Pride Festivals in Los Angeles, where I moved from a year ago, and then my first Portland one last year. It was fun, but I usually just go to the parades and daytime festivities, and I found myself shrugging off Portland Pride 2014. It seems I had lost the spirit of Pride; so this time, I summoned the ghosts of Pride Past, Present, and Future to get it back. Continue reading →
Photo by Chase Person (from l to r, Jennie Kay, Michael James Schneider, Nick Mattos, Wayne Bund, Chase Person, Summer Olsson, Logan Lynn)
Two years ago, when I lived in Los Angeles, I left my job to take a year-long “artistic sabbatical”. I felt a creative itch that was brought about by working with my LA family at Sacred Fools Theater Company. A few months into that year, I went through some shit. I came out on the other side more determined than ever to create a life that was artistically fulfilling, and more than anything true and authentic to myself. I visited Portland for the first time in February of 2013, and instantly fell in love with it, thanks to my good friend and tour guide Summer Olsson. And then a funny thing happened: Continue reading →
“I have been holding this fart in from the day I met you, and now I’m ready to let it go.” When it all boils down, that’s really what I’m looking for, someone to say that to. In Part 1 about dating guys from the Scruff app, I mentioned that there were a million and one different things that people on there are looking for, but that’s the common denominator. Whether it’s friends, or “workout buddies” (hahahaha who the hell are you kidding), or an eventual husband, we’re all looking for someone to get know on a comfortable level. Someone who we don’t have to worry anymore about holding in our farts around.
This occurred to me while I was in the grocery store, where most of my Deep Thoughts happen (hey, dawdling stranger, get the fuck out of the boxed wine aisle so I can get to My Preciousss). Being single for a couple years isn’t a big deal…unless you’re someone who loves to be in monogamous relationships, like me. Loading my cart up with cat litter and Juanita’s chips, I thought Maybe it’s the first impression. If I’m going to make Scruff the primary thing I use to meet guys, maybe I should work on my profile.