We were driving from that cafe, to Northwest, via the St. Johns Bridge (the scenic route), when a strange one-lane road enticed us down the bluff to the river. The road ended just after a railroad crossing, at a fence. We parked the car. It was very quiet. We took pictures of the train bridge and walked along the tracks to a few abandoned industrial buildings on the river, which were covered in graffiti, some of it very intricate. The place was eerie.

I half expected a ragtag street militia to appear from behind the ruins, snipers spotting us with telescopes from the roof, and footsoldiers with crossbows and spears made of bones and car parts, dressed in leaves, chanting in an incomprehensible creole -- but the buildings really were deserted, except for the spray paint cans and beer bottles. We climbed a 30-foot ladder to the roof, and Donna almost died from her fear of heights, but actually made it all the way up, where there was an amazing view of the train bridge and St. Johns Bridge and the West Hills with the sun setting behind. I couldn't see another person in any direction.

To see pictures of Becky and Donna and the ruins, see Donna's flickr page. We think it is funny that her whole life she identified as a writer and I identified as a photographer/painter. And now after eight years of friendship, I have almost no interest in art and she barely writes. If you click on her profile on flickr it explains why she now prefers images. I don't know why I like writing more now, maybe because with a picture you can never say exactly what you mean. You can't with writing either. There aren't enough words. There aren't words for things I feel. But I can get closer than with a picture.

We drove aimlessly along St. Helens Road, through Northwest, across the Burnside Bridge and south on 20th, along Belmont and buying the perfect latte at Stumptown, then home to NE Sandy Blvd. I used to hate driving, but I didn't actually hate driving, I only hated where I was. Now I love it.

Today I mentioned that Liza had posted a myspace bulletin asking about jobs in Oakland, which worried me because one big reason I wanted to live there, rather than here, was that I thought the job situation was better. I am only dubiously employable. Donna then said that she wasn't going to mention it, but that her roommate told her he would like it if I stayed. Obviously she feels the same way, and so do I, but our first priority is me being clean even if we are in different cities.

Then we had a long conversation comparing the pros and cons of each city, as far as jobs, living situation, and staying clean. It's hard to tell. I've bought heroin only three times in San Francisco, and never elsewhere in the Bay Area. Portland is like heroin central, but being with Donna almost tips the scale. I've even spent time alone this week, when she was at work, and I didn't feel like I did before.

You are probably thinking, that's what she said last time she moved to Portland. Let's be honest, finally -- when I moved back here a year ago I hadn't been clean for over two weeks the entire six months I was at my parents, and I only made it a few days at a time while I was here. I missed Brian a lot, and Donna was never around. I was miserable and constantly in withdrawal. Nine months clean versus a few weeks clean makes a huge difference. You probably don't believe me, and I know, you have no reason to believe me, but I feel so different now.

There are other things I liked about the California plan, like meeting new people and being in a new place, but really, exploring a new place is not top on my list of things to do right now.

We decided that we don't have to decide anything right away, since I'm not spending much money, I can hang out and try looking for a job and see how I feel about Portland. There's no rush to do anything in particular. If I start feeling like I did before, I can leave.