Won't somebody see, what this world has done to me.
And I know, I know and I say oh, I say
that no matter where I go
no
I will always see your face
Won't somebody please, Help me with my memory
Can somebody see, yeah what this world has done to me. - Arthur Lee and Love
It never stops getting weirder. In the down times it seems like nothing happens, but then the littlest things come out of nowhere.
Tonight, X-Mas eve, we had perhaps the greatest news content Trifecta I've ever seen - for a half hour show with likely less than a few viewers. To sum up I'll just say - Oregon shark attack, plane crash, mobile meth lab, deputy-turned accused-rapist, Trailers of stolen food (On CHRISTMAS! for theloveofGod) and more.
Then I ended up at a party as a misfit Christmas toy, in the Pearl district, among the elite. I mean not snobby arteeests, real working people, but with money and clout and subtle manners and taste and fancy plans and trips to France, as they ambled about with half-empty champagne bottles, trying to find their spouses, drunk on Christmas Eve. Mostly 'DINKS' as we used to say (Double Income No Kids).
New leather, eyeglasses by designers you can't pronounce, shuffling about in a loft that does more than just a credit check when you start the application process to move in. A balcony overlooking the river, and strangers in shiny jogging suits with small pampered dogs smile at you in the hallway.
Now I may have been afraid at one point in my life that I would not fit in at such a scene. But I looked halfway decent (okay, real good then) could talk the biz, get a laugh or three, and actually felt genuinely comfortable. And not like I was superior and "from the streets" or holier than the usual punk rockers cause I don't generally dwell in said streets all day either. It was almost humanizing on what could have been another lone Xmas on the West Coast.
So there's that.
I scurried out just after midnight so Santa wouldn't miss me and Loopie.
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