Today was beautiful and sunny and Donna and I took a walk in a northwesterly direction, as we often do. Now the magnolias are in bloom and the dogwoods are just starting, and all the trees have little leaves. Spring happens fast. And the air smelled more amazing a few weeks ago near the beginning of spring. Already it smells summery, like grass and sunlight, and the summery smell is less Portland than the one when all the rain from the whole winter is evaporating. I want it to smell like that all the time.

From Alberta we took the bus to downtown for First Thursday, which is one of those things that makes Portland great that we never actually take advantage of. Maybe I can sense that there's something scary about it, and stay away unconsciously. The hipsters were out in FORCE tonight, making it a bit hard to breathe. Watching thousands of kids wearing the same faux-bike-messenger-indie-punk "uniform", I wonder, could I ever be one of them? Am I already one of them? Does wondering this make me stuck up?

I received no fewer than TWO marriage proposals tonight. The first was from some punk drinking on Burnside. He said, "Hey, come drink whisky with us!" I said, "Sorry, I'm over whisky." (There was a time in Thailand when whisky and I were great friends. You will NEVER hear those stories so don't ask.) While we waited to cross the street, he yelled a barrage of pick-up lines, "We were meant to be together! I want to spend the rest of my life with you! You're so beautiful!" etc. Then the light changed.

The second one was near our bus stop, an older black guy walked by and said, "I already proposed to you, but I'll do it again." I said, "You never proposed to me." He said he had, and proceeded to do it again, telling me I was gorgeous and walking off. Meanwhile, in the window of a scummy looking building across the street, two men waved at us and did push ups in the window (?), apparently for our benefit, until the bus came.

Oh, and then there was the guy who stopped me coming out of Stumptown. "What's your name?" "Becky..." "I'm -----," he said, shaking my hand. He didn't say anything else so I walked away with Donna. Isn't that when a normal person would have asked for my phone number or something? I don't know, because I'm not a normal person.

The hipster crowd tonight reminded me of my brief time participating in the "scene", at least a little. The summer when I was 19, I used to ride my bike to these little shows at coffeeshops in southeast, bands that are now signed to Sub Pop and K Records (The Thermals, Little Wings). The shows were free or a few dollars, people would sit cross-legged on the floor, there weren't really any amps or anything. It was basically the same group of 20 people coming to every show, and I must have been one of the only ones who wasn't part of their little group of friends, but no one ever talked to me. I didn't mind though, I loved the music and it felt alive.

I first heard Little Wings because I was working at a bakery with Jordon, later the drummer for The Thermals. I had a crush on him and he must have briefly thought I was cool enough for him, because he invited me to see his friend play one night, at a space on Alberta that no longer exists. He had to sweet talk them into letting me in because I was only 18. He and Kyle went to art school together or something.

Kyle seemed extremely drunk, and we went out on the sidewalk to have a cigarette with him. I'll never forget this: Jordon asked what he was on, and Kyle said, "Speedball," and tapped his forearm with two fingers. I can't believe there was a time when I didn't know what that meant, but it would be four years before I'd know that a speedball is when you shoot cocaine and heroin together, one of the most overwhelming and compulsive drug experiences I've ever had. I still wonder if he was just fucking around, because I can't imagine ever getting on stage in that state of mind.

There was something beautiful about that show, and so I kept going back to those cramped coffeeshops the following summer to hear him and his friends play for each other. When he sang "faith, children, your happiness will never be denied," it felt like the most true thing in the world, with all the beautiful young people on the warm summer night. I bought the cd several years later and was thoroughly disappointed because the recording doesn't capture even a tenth of the energy of that song.