Esperanto rabbit hole

Got a text from a college friend this morning mentioning that he had found a copy of Why Learn to Speak Esperanto in 2025? in a Little Free Library. I love that Esperantists are still at it even if my own skills - hard acquired on the interminable bus voyage from Tualatin to Lake O to PCC-Sylvania to a terrible summer job in Beaverton in summer 1992 - are super rusty. 

Of course this sent me down an Esperanto-in-2025 rabbit hole. I ended up at the delightful Esperanto World webstore, where one can buy pronoun pins, including ri, a gender-neutral pronoun that has emerged in the ensuing 33 years! Esperantists against Fascism pins, pins declaiming one's love of a certain controversial consonant (ĥ). Love it.

It gives me joy to see that the community aspect of Esperanto is still a thing. Back in those days I loved learning the language but was terrified to actually potentially speak it to anyone. The years have softened me. There was a Cosmonox show a while back where I did a bunch of banter in extremely broken Esperanto. I was still a little scared that someone might actually heckle back in Esperanto, but the odds of that happening at a dive bar on SE Foster are pretty low, I guess, and anyway, high concept jokes sometimes don't land like you think they will. I went back to my usual incomprehensible speech in my native language after the first couple songs.

Salad spinner

Boyo and I were riding back from after school care when I saw some stuff laid out in a free pile at the side of the bike path. Wait, was that?!?! I turn our big cargo bike around.

Yes! It's a salad spinner!!! We currently own a semi-broken cheapo Ikea model that is partially functional, but with one plunge on this one's handle, it is clear that our salad spinner game has been substantially upgraded. The boy contentedly cranks it as we ride back home.

So I guess this is a free plug for OXO brand salad spinners. Plunging on this thing's handle makes me feel like I'm starting up a helicopter. It hums like a spaceship. Using a manual kitchen gadget should not be this fun. And does it spin the absolute bejeezus out of our salads? It does.

Hill Killerz/GF tiramisu

Portland Bike Summer has begun. I will admit that it is tough to look at all the fun listings and shake my middle-aged fist at the reality of having job/kid/home in the hinterlands. Though of course it's also nice to have a job that isn't terrible, a kid that is awesome, and a house with an affordable mortgage. 

REGARDLESS: I saw that near my house on Tuesdays there is a "hill killerz lunch hillz" ride - ride from the bottom to the top of SE 52nd Ave. five times in a half hour. Seems like my kind of ridiculous, I thought, even as someone who doesn't particularly love hillz. But doing ridiculous thingz together with other nerdz? And using lots of Zs to pluralize nouns? Sign me up! 

I bike the ten minutes from my house to the bottom of the hill and will my cranky gears into their lowest granny settings, and off I go. I get there and it's a very positive scene. Bells are rung, thumbs-ups exchanged. People cool off in the shade at the top of the hill. There's lycra, athleisure, me in the same schlubby work tee and shorts combo I wore yesterday. No one is judging anyone. Within 20 minutes I've done my requisite five rounds and I head off into a perfect Clackamas afternoon.

Gluten-free treats update: Today my dear wife randomly brought home gluten-free tiramisu from the coffeeshop near her downtown job. I would never have thought to buy this or consume this, but I have to admit it was a good idea.

Garage sales by bike

I rode around to some yard sales on the bike this week. Going by bike has the added benefit of making it very impractical to buy large items, which is good because yesterday I was eyeing one of the old iMac G4 lamp-shaped computers. I remember thinking my artsy bandmate's lamp computer - sheesh, 20 years ago?!?! - was super cool. Super cool, yes, but something I need in 2025? Thankfully it was too large and unwieldy to fit in a Jandd shopping pannier, so the decision was made for me.

Today I biked to a few more yard sales (slow weekend) and picked up some smaller things, including some old Peanuts and Heathcliff paperbacks for the boy. While OG Heathcliff can't hold a candle to the ludicrous current strips, there is something very pleasing about buying trashy old comic strip paperbacks at five for a buck. Another sale had an Enron mailer that said something about "values and commitment" or something wildly inappropriate. The woman holding the sale saw me looking at it and mentioned that Enron had somehow stolen something like 200 grand from her husband's retirement, and that Jesus was the only one you could trust. I wasn't sure how to respond. I got some free Lego magazines for the boy and headed home.

 

Luxury update / BT Express / Sha Na Na

The other day I wanted to transport my upright bass and my son at the same time. After decades of being used to the subcompact lifestyle, I was a little shocked to find that I could fit both of them in the vehicle at the same time rather than having to arrange a series of multiple trips. Bizarre.

 The Midnight Special served up an episode from 1975 with B.T. Express and Sha Na Na:

B.T. Express, it turns out, are really good. Tight, danceable, bass heavy, no filler, no ballads, hypnotic dance moves, flute solos, excellent taste in 70s goldenrod clothing. I'm mesmerized by the lead singer's insistent and unergonomic tambourine shaking. The prude in me is a little put off by the orgasmic moment in the middle of "Do It ('Til You're Satisfied), but has to admit that it makes sense. 

Then Sha Na Na comes on and... I don't get it. I'm trying to contextualize this absurdist greaser-nostalgia act in the context of the late 60s and early 70s, and heaven knows I love absurdist humor, but this is like fourth-order nostalgia at this point. And it doesn't help that the performance is notably half-assed and all over the place compared to the laser focus of BT Express. Maybe they were over the hill at this point? Maybe it made more sense in the context of the times? I guess I'll have to talk to the boomers in my life.

Gentrification notes/Yoko on CD/website

Dear little downtown Milwaukie, Oregon, getting all grown up and having multiple vintage stores and a record store. I biked to B-Side Records & Vintage after dropping off a bunch of the boy's cat manga at the library and there's some good energy, even if I, as someone who has entirely too many records and too much kitsch on hand, am not likely to drop much money there.

TIRED: $20 used Elton John records
WIRED: $3 NOS Yoko Ono CDs

I picked up some late-period Yoko Ryko reissues (Starpeace, It's Alright (I See Rainbows) etc.) on gleaming digital media and plopped them in my CD player. Their particular flavor of futuristic 80s cheese (this is a compliment) goes great with that icy laser sound. You can almost feel the beams glancing off her awesome oversized sunglasses.

It's a little sad that I haven't updated my website in years and years. Considering yoinking what I put up a long time ago (developed on Dreamweaver 5.5 back when) and just going with good old-fashion HTML. Will report back.

Guadalajara 2025 part 2

Tuesday we are gripped by FOMO and decide to do it all. We go back to the best vegan restaurant for brunch and are delighted that they have merch featuring their cute vegan cave people. 

We take an Üüüüübür to Tlaquepaque and tourist it up. We buy cute souvenirs, visit the Taller de Dulces at Nuestros Dulces where we see delicious sweets being made (for pretend at least) and make out a good portion of the rapid candy-focused Spanish. The boy asks for a small lollipop in delightful Spanish and everyone seems pretty charmed. There is some sadness that rompope will not work on the carryon. 

On a hot Tlaquepaque afternoon I have a nieve de agua, yerbabuena (spearmint) with lemon, and it is completely perfect for the situation. I remind myself to remind our local water ice (and video and espresso) emporium to try something similar. 

I pay six or eight pesos to use a pay toilet in the back of an endlessly fluorescent electronics bazaar. Each stall has more dubious phone cases and more bright lights than the last.

We head back to town and stop by Nimia, the sort of arts and crafts and clothing and jewelry store that would be my go-to for thoughtful creative gift-giving if it were not several thousand miles and one national border away. We get some very cute art for the wall. They also sell paletas and ice cream sandwiches from a charmingly twee little window. The boy does not say no.

Wednesday we cram into a tiny vehicle to go to the airport against the awe inspiring sunrise over endless industry. The Guadalajara airport is pleasant and efficient and we spend the last of our pesos. LAX is awful, especially in comparison. We make it back to Portland, my mom takes us home, and we try to process it all.