JoshuasTravels — Sometimes I feel like Larry Darrell…

Sometimes I feel like Larry Darrell…

Written by . Posted at 8:04 pm on May 8th, 2005

Before I go any further, I think I’ve figured out the new Truman Index website. Here my last three columns:
One on OzSlang
Two on Health
And three on Harry Potter

There’s a Mandarin tree out in our backyard. They’re just starting to ripen, but Impatient Josh has been eating three a day for about a week now. A few are a little tart, but that’s okay. In the Northwest we’ve got plenty of trees but they’re all evergreen – as the saying goes: “pine trees, pine trees everywhere but not a fruit to pick.” For a kid who grew up in Portland, walking out your door to eat a fruit off your own tree is heaven.

Despite all that, this really wasn’t a good week for the old El Chronicler. I started off the week slicing up my finger pretty bad. It’s a long, stupid story, but basically I was trying to modify a pair of earphones, slipped and cut right through my finger, almost to the nail. It hurt a lot but it’s actually healing up pretty nice. And all my mates marvel at how you can look at it and see all the layers of skin, right down to the pink stuff we assume is meat.

A day after that I forgot about the grill and cooked up my lunch inside. While I was prepping my sausages, I warmed up a little canola oil in the frying pan. Then I dropped the two snags into boiling hot oil and made sure to catch the splash with my wrist. This resulted in third degree burns (of course) and a lot of cursing. I took a picture just a day after. Since the picture it’s started to blister which I suppose is a good thing. But it looks terrible.

Hoping to turn my look around, I went to the Trots. That’s how Aussie’s say Horse Races. So I tried my hand at gambling with some of the blokes and shelias from my Bio class. My Delawarean (from the same city Fight Club is “based” in) housemate Rob went, too. It’s a little odd that a guy from Delaware likes Country music so much, but he’d make any Texan proud.

As we walked out the door for the Trots, I couldn’t help but notice the beautiful Portland weather. I grew up in a city that only gets about ten non-overcast days a year and I’m currently living in a country that only gets about ten overcast days a year, so I took it as a good omen. It wasn’t. There were 8 races; we got their in time to bet on 7 of them. I don’t know where I spent it all, but my luck has certainly run out. To keep my money from running out, I kept my bets small (read: don’t worry). I tried betting the sure thing, I tired betting the long shot. I tried hedging my bets; I tried betting along with Mr. Success (Rob). I just couldn’t win. Then: a horse called “Portland Bay.” How could I lose? Portland is the city of my youth, one of few cities I identify with and, among other things, the city I still call home. You can’t get much more certain. But just to be sure, I put $5 on Portland Bay “placing.” That means that if Portland bay took first, second, or third place, I’d make enough money to call the whole day even. Portland Bay came in fourth and I almost cried. It was very upsetting. You know, suddenly I don’t feel like writing any more.

The Fenton
PS- Don’t want this newsletter, please submit a short essay on the influence of Iggy Pop on the Red Hot Chili Peppers. No longer than 3,000 words, no later than 10/10/2005. Or you can e-mail me. Your call.

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let's lose charley