There was a time or four when I would sell some portion of my library to Powell’s
just so I could eat…
A signed Paul Reps collectible coffee-table-sized work of art, sigh, comes to mind…
I tell this to the cashier after complaining about just three copies of my book
…When Running Was Young & So Were We
buried on the very bottom of the very back shelf. Damn alphabetical stacking.
“What you are telling me, it seems,” the cashier says, “is…you’ve come full circle.”
Subvert the trope.
Thus provoked, I look for a bar, a not unusual oasis for me.
Henry’s Tavern, run by the Weinhard Brewery, grabs and drags me inside.
Am having an anniversary issue of weizenbier from 1985
which manages to taste better than I remember.
Digression. “You are seeing a great master at one with his element,”
I tell the waitress, who backs away quickly as I start writing
on the first paper I can find, a shopping bag protecting the book bought for my wife
The Laws Guide to Drawing Birds.
A little about Henry’s. Five words – one hundred beers on draft.
Sadly, I don’t have time for all.
Seared rare ahi tuna, only pennies more than a burger.
Am thinking this tavern is among my favorite new places
and then I realize I’ve been here before… thirty years ago.
How did beer go from ninety-nine cents to seven dollars and why didn’t I?
Next… the Rogue Brewery & Publick House.
Home of VooDoo Doughnut Ale.
Personally recommend the pretzel, raspberry & banana version.
A sign near a photo of a naked old lady in a bath tub: No Cellphones At Bar.
There is much talk about flights and IPAs and… beer snobs? Like trying to understand
six-and-a-half-hour marathons.
And my answer is the same: God bless them.
A guy in a yellow slicker gives me his pint of New Crustacean,
which is light but hoppy with a good nose.
Leaving Portland just as the Whiskey Fest begins.
Who designed this schedule?
…. 5/14/14