The View from Portland

New city. Strange computer. Tuesday night, staying at the "boarding house," depending on the (not inconsiderable) kindness of strangers. Drove down (after two nights of five hours sleep due to, and a day of, freelance. Got in around six. Fading. Nothing good on TV. Jane, the house-mother, and I watched "Cavemen," and we kept exchanging mutual eye-rollings of disgust, so we decided to see if we could improve the picture she was getting on cable. I moved her 50-ton TV and went spelunking amongst the cables, cutting the umbilicals of some (Rabbit-ears? Really? No, no, no, that's like belt and suspenders!) and reconnecting others (the VHS is good to go!) Now, I'm sitting here at her wide-screen Compaq blogging with my final ergs of energy.

Stopped by the Beaverton Costco, and bought a new shirt, slacks and jeans. Me, buying clothes. Haven't done that since...well, I haven't done that. Everything I've got at the Cabin on the Rock has worn thinner than Larry Craig's excuses, and would not "do" for an interview-lunch Wednesday, and dinner with sponsors ("If you have fingers, prepare to cross them now"). "Happy"Day and his bewitching bride have done an awful lot for me to get to this moment and I want to thank them, but I can't do that looking like...one of the Geico spokes-neanderthals.

While I was marathoning the Costco aisles (no videos, no toys--noticed they're selling "Lincoln Logs" again!--just clothes--sounds like a bad Christmas). I stopped by the book counter, and was immediately intrigued by one title--Patti Boyd has written an autobiography.

Who's Patti Boyd? She was a British "bird"-model when she was hired to be one of the "school-girls-on-the-train" in "A Hard Day's Night," where she met and fell into madly-mutual love with George Harrison. They married, but things hit the skids--one of George's best friends was hopelessly, madly in love with her, too--Eric Clapton, whose love burned as much as his veins did full of heroin. "Layla" is the song he wrote of his passion for Patti. George loved her, but Eric needed her. I don't know how it happened,* but soon Eric and Patti were married, with George's blessing and divorce. George married Olivia, mother of Dhanni. Patti Boyd: Musical Muse to Two Geniuses. Now there's an autobio' I'd want to read! I moved down the book aisle. Oh! Eric Clapton has an autobiography out, too! The dinks couldn't be more coinc-ier!

I'm making up silly phrases now. Time to get some shut-eye--though, since my eyes have a tendency to stay open when I sleep, that doesn't really apply.

Speaking of "apply," wish me luck tomorrow.


* Well, if you go to Patti's place on Wikipedia, you'll see much more--that she was also the inspiration for "Something," (natch!), and "(You Look)Wonderful Tonight"(Geez!), as well as several other songs. That it was her interest in Eastern philosophy that inspired the Beatles trip to India to see the Maharishi, and that it was Harrison's continual infidelity that caused their break-up (PB finally got fed up when GH had an affair with Maureen Starkey--Ringo's wife--and you thought the cross-breedings of The Mommas and the Poppas and Fleetwood Mac were convoluted!) But Clapton kept cheating on her, too, which led to alcoholism (for both of them) and divorce. Man! And after all this, everybody's still friends!