So, there I was. I was determined to take my revenge out on two things, my liver and the whole town of Portland, Oregon.
I had been struggling. I had been struggling and someone broke into my car and stole my notebook. How could they? I drank and I drank and when I was drunk, I would kick over paper boxes. For those of you who were not around in the beautiful analogue days, there were these things called newspapers, and they were sold in vending boxes. Those boxes were on every corner, that is until I arrived. Then they were in every gutter.
I bought a new notebook.
And things were looking up. I went to Vancouver, BC for the holiday. It was just me and my notebook. You can read the book, that is if you have the combination. And if you want the combination, ask me and I'll send it to you.
In Vancouver, I did not put that notebook down unless it was to sit on it. That's right, I sat on it. Or I held it.
Funny thing, funny thing about the notebook and the subsequent trip to Vancouver--all of it was not necessary.
It wasn't necessary because I found plenty of trouble to get into in BC and I didn't write a thing. And the very experience I wanted in my fuck all year, I found in Vancouver in one weekend.
When I got home to Portland, I wrote the whole thing down, the whole novel using a word processor.
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