Goodbye Joe's Cellar

Philip and I walked into Joe's Cellar last Friday night as we almost always did. I almost didn't go. I had the beginnings of an awful cold that made me want to curl up on the couch and sleep. But it was our tradition and I promised a friend we'd show up. So we rallied and readied ourselves to hash out the week and put it behind us.

We'd had kind of a traumatic Thursday night. I unknowingly got a homeless girl's sleeping bag stolen and we were up past our bed time making amends.

We walked in and sat down at our regular booth. We waved to the bartender and sat down, slumping into the cushions. It was slow and kind of quiet for a Friday night. While Joe's was never as rowdy as the bars up 21st, it did get a little noisy, especially since some of the regulars took a liking to video game bowling. After some thought I noticed the wave from the bartender seemed off. Not with us in particular, just in general. I made a mental note to talk to her about it later.

Our waitress came by and we told her the story of the street kids we'd met and our eternal frustration with Matthew Breen. (Or Matt the Drunk) Part of me was still thinking about how much I have and their stories about what they lost. I kept thinking "I have all these things I don't need. They need some of these things. I should give it to them." But I didn't know how to give them the things I have without making it embarrassing.

Unusually downbeat, our waitress crouched, eyes cast down and traced the table with her hands. "So guys, sad story. Joe's is closing." She told us the city had condemned the building and the last night was Sunday. I asked so many questions but it came out there was nothing anyone could do.

"So if you know someone with a job, let me know..."

Philip and I were in shock. I spent a lot of time staring sadly at the newly revamped menu.

My first thought was a Randy Leonard-esque shutdown so the land could be developed. At this moment the area near 21st and Pettygrove looks like an industrial wasteland. Scattered around Conway are several large empty lots with remnants of a business that underwent a massive change. There's a garage with a ramp to nowhere, slowly decaying and vast empty parking lots with chain link fences. East of 23rd avenue, Pettygrove is the border to the Northwest Industrial District.

All of that will change over the next few years. The city gave the go ahead for a massive project that will totally reinvent all that unused land. Soon it will be more apartments, a grocery store (my money is on Whole Foods or New Seasons) and open space with ornamental trees. Joe's Cellar would be its neighbor. A traditional neighborhood bar doesn't exactly fit in to the pretty green drawings on the Oregonian's website. Not to mention a traditional neighborhood bar on a very, very expensive piece of land.

I sputtered my conspiracy theory about the convenient timing and was corrected by a regular that usually propped up the bar. "The building is pulling away from the roof. He (Jim, the owner) can't fix it." According to him, the city inspectors came out on Thursday and notified the business on Friday it must close that day. With some pleading, the owner managed to keep it open until Sunday. The reason the city inspector came out? According to them Jim was trying to fix it. The contractor discovered the defect, reported it to the city and that was it.

Throughout the night I e-mailed every media outlet I could think of. I wanted Joe's to go out with a bang. I wanted the bartenders and cocktail waitresses to make as much money as they could. Joe's deserved more than to fizzle out over a couple days. That night the Mercury called to confirm and ran a story on their blog. The ball started rolling on the Joe's Facebook page.

Over the weekend I tried to pin down why I was so upset about Joe's closing. Some of my friends said "it's just a bar." But it wasn't. When we moved into the neighborhood four years ago we had very little to do. Most of my old friends moved out of the city or had more stable lives. We'd just left our other friends in England and we missed them so much. We also missed our beloved Retro Bar in Manchester where we spent many nights laughing and singing badly. I started looking around for somewhere else just to be that wasn't home.

Over my life I've had a number of places I felt comfortable. When I was a teenager I liked to buy books at Powell's and go to the Roxy to eat cheese fries and read. Before I left for England it was Embers on a Wednesday night to drink and dance to goth music. (That's where I met my husband.)When we got to England it was ArA and the Retro Bar.

These places were all special in their own ways. But I chose them mostly because I could be alone but around people at the same time. There was a respect for privacy but if I wanted to engage I could.

The biggest thing they all have in common? Music.

The Roxy had The Clash on the jukebox. Very impressive to a teenage malcontent. Embers was goth night and played The Smiths and Depeche Mode. ArA, well, I DJ'd there for a time and always loved to play Planet Earth by Duran Duran. If I didn't like the music there I probably wasn't ever going to. Our wasted time at the Retro Bar was all about the Scissor Sisters and Rick Astley. (Don't judge, he's a local boy made good.)

The first night we walked into Joe's Leonard Cohen was on the jukebox. I think it was Democracy, though it could have been Closing Time. It made me smile. So perfect. A dimly lit smokey bar with wood paneling, my husband, a Sapphire and tonic, and Leonard Cohen. I'm not entirely sure when I joined in pumping money into the jukebox. But I do know the regular Friday night bartender, the amazing Sara, noticed. I think I must have been putting things on like The Jam, Erasure, New Order, Elvis Costello.... and the Scissor Sisters because I missed England.

In the end Joe's was our anchor. I celebrated my last birthday there. The beginning of March I grieved for my grandmother after a particularly horrible night at the nursing home. I did an awful rendition of "Bizarre Love Triangle" at karaoke. We were surrounded by people in front of and in back of the bar who worked hard. They policed themselves. If you wanted to be left alone, you were left alone. If you wanted to talk, they would talk.

While I appreciate Willamette Week, Mercury and KGW covering the loss, I feel like they all missed the most important thing to me. Joe's was a place of community, friendship and hard work. To us it wasn't an ironic dive, somewhere to go to say you have a favorite while sneering at the people around you. It was a place to have fun, to laugh and to live. 

For the people that worked there it was a job. To paraphrase Sara people supported their families working there. Joe's employed 24 amazing people and those jobs are gone. Chances are you've seen them around too. Cathie is a fantastic artist. Sara has a great band. Leisa's so compassionate. The kitchen manager used to work at the Green Dragon. One of the old cooks used to work at the New Old Lompoc.

So when I think of Joe's closing, I don't say "Portland lost another great dive." I say "24 wonderful people lost their jobs and we lost an amazing place in the community."

As far as the music goes my last song at Joe's Cellar was Age of Consent by New Order. It only cost 1 credit on the jukebox.

How do you solve a problem like Matthew Breen?

The first time I saw Matthew was in the fall of 2012. I was standing just off the sidewalk smoking a cigarette. He wandered up the driveway, stood behind the bushes and pissed.

I was stunned and not entirely sure what to do. Part of me was torn. I mean, the guy had to pee right? But as I watched people walking up the street to restaurants or down the avenue, families, couples, people out for a stroll, I thought I should probably chase him off.

And then he stopped.

I heaved a sigh of relief, he was done. But then he started grunting. Through the bushes I could see the tip of his penis and his hand firmly around it.

“Ok. You have your dick out. Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.”

He stumbled away, apologizing and then punctuating it with “but I’m a man you know?”

I shook my head.

Across the street a couple employees from the ice cream shop were watching me, looking at me with some disdain. I scowled back. They looked away.

We started seeing him more often and he started looking worse. That first day he was relatively normal looking. He was shaved, with clean hair and clothes. I shrugged it off. The homeless in our neighborhood didn’t tend to be aggressive or repeat offenders. (I only saw a homeless guy poop in the courtyard once at my last apartment. He cleaned up after himself and threw it away.)

The most problematic pee-er we had was actually a long time local we see at our neighborhood bar. We could chase him away. He knew us.

For the most part we co-existed. We looked on as they dug through our bottles and cans. Occasionally tossing money, Sisters of the Road vouchers, or a hot drink at them during the winter. My favorite was (and still is) Boombox Guy. He wanders up behind the same bushes that became Matthew Breen’s toilet, puts on some soft rock on a portable radio and dances around to Steely Dan. Rock on Boombox Guy. Rock on.

In 2011 a survey, including people in transitional housing, showed Portland had 15,563 people that would be considered homeless. While estimates are hard to obtain, the National Coalition for the Homeless estimates around 38% of homeless people are alcoholics.

This is likely the case with Matthew. After we found his mugshots online, we noted it was like watching the decline of a serious drunk on his way to cirrhosis. His most recent mugshots, from an arrest in January for alcohol in a public place, shows him disheveled and dirty. A marked difference in 6 months.

After chasing him off the property at least another 3 times and having him hurl insults at me. “You bitch, you bitch, fucking bitch” as he urinated outside our window, I finally called the police.

The non-emergency dispatcher said an officer would be in touch soon. But no call arrived. I described him as best I could at the time. “He’s about 5’10”, 180 pounds, brown hair, beard, gray hoodie.” I stood on the sidewalk for the officer that would never come and watched Matthew shuffle west up the street. He stood in front of a now closed pub and drank a bottle from his plastic bag. The CHIERS van showed up but didn’t get him inside. A few minutes later a Portland Police Department cruiser turned up as well.

I assumed he was going to be dealt with.

He wasn’t.

He appeared a few hours later in the bushes. Drunker than he was before. Urinating and sniffing a woman’s mustard yellow sweater.

CHIERS is our local transport for the drunk tank. Instead of burdening the courts and jails with people who are in serious need of help for addiction, they take them to a non-profit facility to sober them up and offer them help.

According to Central City Concern, the vans are staffed with EMTs who will assess whoever it is they pick up and then offer them recovery options.

After I saw Matthew again that evening, I called police non-emergency again. This time was different. The officer appeared and drove up the road. He called me to tell me he couldn’t find him. I wandered back outside to see if I could spot him again. There he was sitting on the corner.

I called the officer back. “I see him! I see him!” Within a moment the police cruiser pulled up. Matthew didn’t even start. He sat down on a brick fence and waited patiently, barely uttering a word.

After a half an hour another cruiser appeared. The first officer said pleasantly “Well Matthew, time to go.” They ushered him into the back of the car, handcuffing him and carefully placing his belongings in the trunk. One of them appeared to take his photo with his phone. Then they both drove off.

A while later the police officer called me. “We took him to Hooper. You shouldn’t have to worry about him for the next 5-7 hours.” I thanked him. He then gave me his name and told me to use that next time I called. “He’s known to the police in this neighborhood.”

Of course he is.
The officer further explained how it works with a lot of the homeless people in our neighborhood. It’s a revolving door he said, they go into treatment and come out, they go back to panhandling to get their fix.

Matthew’s burned almost all his bridges with the locals in our neighborhood. One of the clothing stores called the police after he was caught sleeping rough and was verbally abusing customers. Another business owner shooed him off the stoop a number of times before calling the cops. According to the mugshots he’s been arrested for everything from drinking on public property to theft. And the places where you and I can purchase alcohol are making it difficult for him.

The independently owned shop banned him from shopping there. The larger chain convenience store banned him as well. He doesn’t seem to get as far north as one of the other independent stores or the local co-op. Whether the grocery stores are selling him alcohol, we don’t know. Word on the street is he can still buy alcohol at Walgreens.

Most people ignore his requests for money as well. His tactics are aggressive. He gets in your face. “Help a guy out?” “Give me some money.” “Got a buck?” But some, no doubt well meaning (or particularly far sighted and vindictive) still give him cash. I watched as an older man in a blue checked shirt dug through his wallet for a dollar. Matthew snatched it out of his hand and walked towards one of the stores that banned him. He handed the money to someone going inside, who then came out and gave him the can. He popped the tab open and took a drink.

A part of me thought that maybe it was apathy on behalf of the locals that kept him around. No one calling the police, (I was hesitant. It’s a waste of police time right?) people just avoiding him or even that maybe we thought there aren’t facilities available for people like him. But now I realize it’s the powerlessness of law enforcement and treatment facilities that also leaves us hamstrung. He’s regularly given the opportunity to sober up and get help. He regularly turns it down. Portland has plenty of places to get hot meals, if not a bed and even has mobile showering stations. The homeless can even get a haircut.

But Matthew just wants a can of strawberry flavored booze and not to be helped or rescued.

And we don’t want to be verbally abused or have our bushes pissed on anymore.

It’s a zero sum game.





http://www.oregonlive.com/portland/index.ssf/2011/06/homeless_population_in_multnom.html
http://www.nationalhomeless.org/factsheets/addiction.pdf
http://www.centralcityconcern.org/changing-lives/sobering_station.html

Gary Coe, total asshole

(In my opinion)

I received my voter's pamphlet in the mail yesterday. Whilst browsing through one of the names seemed familiar to me in a fundamentally negative way.

This race isn't in my district but like many, I take an interest in what happens in the rest of the state since what happens in Salem impacts what happens to us in Portland. The name that piqued my interest was  Gary Coe running against Mark Hass in District 14.

Why Gary Coe rang such a sour note wasn't in the pamphlet. In fact, it's not on his campaign site, or the  unscathed Speed's Towing website.

But if you Google him, a company called Coe Consulting comes up. There, without a link back to Retriever, it says Gary Coe is the owner.

And that's why his named sounds so familiar. In the Portland area Retriever are notorious for being predatory and occasionally ruthless. They've been featured several times for behaving in a way that's beyond the pale and with Coe on record as heartless.

A sampling:
Domestic assault victim's car towed while she cooperated with police. They give back what they shouldn't have taken in the first place.
Coe ""I'm not sure the driver made a bad call here -- he may have," Coe said. "But we are refunding the money because the management company at the apartment complex asked us to."


Towed the car of a woman who had her parking permit displayed, just not good enough for the tow truck driver.
Coe: "alleged people like Ashley, "live in an era when people lack acceptance of personal responsibility.”"

In 2006 Retriever were at the center of a controversy where the Portland Police were called when they tried to tow a minivan parked securely in a driveway.

TowCoe.com has much more.

And then just the general sort of Yelp! ranting:

I made the mistake of parking in my friend's visitor lot 10 minutes before "visiting hours" started and $325 later I got my car back. No one at the apartment complex called the towing company, instead they actually lurk outside of the lots they have contracts with in the hopes that they'll catch someone like me. 

His campaign seems to be aware that reminding curious voters of his affiliation with Retriever might now be the best thing for election. From his website:

Gary is a partner in Speed’s Towing, and Towncar.com, both long time market leaders with impeccable reputations.

No mention of the supposedly successful small business he owns.

And with all this careful omission of Retriever, it might have also been advisable for him not to accept donations from who I presume is Senator Brian Boquist of Dallas who was the subject of a lawsuit filed against him in February.  (Subsequently dropped)


In the complaint, first reported by wweek.com, a longtime Boquist business partner alleged Boquist and his wife, Peggy, misappropriated “thousands of dollars” from ICI Wyoming and funneled the money to Republican candidates and causes in Oregon. 

Campaign finance records show Boquist and his wife have donated more than $64,000 to GOP candidates since 2008, either personally or through an ammunition company he owns.

I would rather not have someone in the state government who would be so cheap and cold as to only return a domestic violence victim's money when forced to by the media. He'd be in charge of regulating an industry that, at least anecdotally, consistently pushes at the boundaries of the law and decency.

As far as Boquist? That looks like one bad blip in campaign finance history.

OSPIRG and money wrenching

I worked for OSPIRG in the summer of 1997. I wrote a little bit about it before, suffice to say I was lured in by the promise of something approaching an hourly wage and a job where I could walk around in the sun. It was swing type shift, started at 12:00pm and ended around 8:00, which always suited my natural rhythm.

It also appealed to my more idealistic sensibilities. I wanted to support the Clean Air Act.

I got the job easily and started soon after my interview. My first day we were sectioned off into canvassing groups and sent out into the wild. They gave us our scripts, pepped us up and we were knocking on doors.

I was still full of ambition, wanting to make the top tier and do the best I could for OSPIRG and the environment. But as the months passed and I received $95 dollars every two weeks, I grew more disheartened. We were sent out to neighborhoods where we were certain not to get any donations, angry dogs behind fences and endless cards saying these people were always not home or didn't donate. In Hillsboro one of my high school teachers refused to come to the door even though I was one of his former students. I could hear his footsteps and his car was in the drive. In Lake Oswego a kind man took pity on me and gave me $52 but wanted me to read more about what I was selling. (52 is a psychological thing, $1 for every week in the year.)

On one trip, I blew out one of my already bad knees and hitchhiked to Portland from the West Hills so I didn't have to wait for the truck to take me home.

The strangest thing that happened that summer had nothing to do with rude people or 40 hours of walking in a week.

One evening our landline rang. (Landline! Imagine!) When I answered, it was a voice I didn't know but knew me.

 "Is this Tiffany?"
 "Yes?"
 "This is Adam."
 "Ok"
"You work for OSPIRG?"

I was relieved, our phone numbers were on a list so the canvass director could call us if something happened. I'd only been home for a little while, so it's possible something got left. But as the conversation progressed I realized this wasn't your typical sort of "oh you forgot your wallet in the van" call.

 "I hear you're good with computers."
 "Ok I guess?"
 In 1997, that meant having your own, with a printer. Which I did. Internet forever.

 "Adam" started talking, likely too much and almost too fast. I didn't get a chance to ask a lot of questions but he had a lot of information. He told me about an oil refinery in northern California. They needed someone who could use a computer, for reasons I still don't understand. I needed black clothes and a flashlight. I needed to be able to leave the state on short notice. He'd call me again. He did.

I did eventually ask how he got my number. He said from the canvass director, Katie. He also named other people in my group that were allegedly involved in the plot. Someone with a truck. We were going to leave soon and be gone for 3 days. Enough time to drive to northern California, do the "job" (whatever that was) and get home, hopefully without being caught.

We had a cordless phone at our house and Adam heard the crackling. He asked if he was on a cordless, I said yes. He said he'd call back. He never did.

I told the canvass director and she looked at me like I was insane but I could see the orange sheet with the numbers clear as day in front of me on her desk. But I may have been crazy anyway. When I worked for OSPIRG I made around $200-250 per month in addition to $350 I had as regular income from elsewhere. I was renting a room in a pretty cheap house, so I had a little bit left over for food and utilities.

I didn't eat a lot.

I finished the summer at OSPIRG and didn't give the calls much thought, thinking they were a prank of some kind. Only much later did I realize it might have been the real deal and it would be a pretty bizarre joke or trick. But I was still confused as to who would recommend me (I was recommended) and why give someone new to this little group so much information. I still don't really know.

Much later on one of my employers called OSPIRG for employment verification.

They had no record of me working there.

Overexplaining

I'll never understand these conversations.

Me: OH MY GOOD LOOK AT THIS HILARIOUS VIDEO OF CHINCHILLAS SHOOTING UP A SMALL SOUTH AMERICAN VILLAGE

Overexplainer: Well you know those are fake chinchillas right? They can't actually hold or shoot guns due to tiny paws and lack of opposable thumbs. They also probably wouldn't wear bandanas.

Me: But the idea of chinchillas having a tiny little revolution is funny! Look at how cute they are!

Overexplainer: That doesn't even look like the Andes! It looks more like Mexico

Me: Yes but the video is so funny! Look at them! They are adorable with their tiny guns! Viva Las Chinchillas!

Overexplainer: And chinchillas are pretty docile, they're engineered to run away.

Me: Oh fucking nevermind.*

It happens everywhere in every community, FB post and Twitter. The worst is when you say something blatantly stupid and people take it at face value. The other day I posted something on Twitter about Obamacare and RFID tracking and the apocalypse.

Someone took it seriously.

I'm not sure what that says about the state of the nation/people's understanding of irony.

**I haven't had this conversation regarding chinchilla revolutions but um, yeah.

IIS 7, php and fastcgi

It all started with this:

HTTP Error 500.0 - Internal Server Error
C:\Program Files (x86)\PHP\v5.3\php-cgi.exe - The FastCGI process exited unexpectedly

And Faulting application name: php-cgi.exe, version: 5.3.8.0, time stamp: 0x4e537f4b
Faulting module name: MSVCR90.dll, version: 9.0.30729.4940, time stamp: 0x4ca2ef57
Exception code: 0xc0000005
Fault offset: 0x0003aefe
Faulting process id: 0xcbc
Faulting application start time: 0x01ccba9ed76d7828
Faulting application path: C:\Program Files (x86)\PHP\v5.3\php-cgi.exe
Faulting module path: C:\Windows\WinSxS\x86_microsoft.vc90.crt_1fc8b3b9a1e18e3b_9.0.30729.4940_none_50916076bcb9a742\MSVCR90.dll
Report Id: 158dd077-2692-11e1-9344-000c29f76d8e

1. Opened up permissions for the iusr account on web.config as recommended by MS

2. Checked Event Viewer and saw this:
http://forums.iis.net/p/1181446/1995260.aspx

3. Googled and found this:
http://forums.iis.net/p/1181446/1995260.aspx

4. Which led me to this
http://drupal.org/node/1300312

5. Which then got me thinking about how the hell you apply a patch:
http://bri-space.com/content/how-patch-drupal-module-windows

6. And I downloaded this:
http://sourceforge.net/projects/gnuwin32/files/patch/2.5.9-7/patch-2.5.9-7-setup.exe/download

7. Except it didn't work with the --binary switch, I got "**** cannot read binary data from tty on this platform'

8. So I opened the patch file and added this code to database.inc, replacing

'/^RELEASE SAVEPOINT (.*)$/' => 'SELECT 1 /* $0 */',

9. Which led to an error in menu.inc
SELECT TOP(1) * FROM {menu_router} WHERE path IN () ORDER BY fit DESC; Array ( ) in menu_get_item() (line 445 of

10. So I went through and did it all again after deleting the db tables (the install configuration will error out if it finds the tables have already been created.)

11. And I got this message:
SQLSTATE[23000]: [Microsoft][SQL Server Native Client 10.0][SQL Server]Violation of PRIMARY KEY constraint 'registry_pkey'. Cannot insert duplicate key in object 'dbo.registry'.
http://drupal.org/node/1210862

12. Googled it, found people with the same problem but no fix.

13. Threw my hands up and said fuck it.

14. Looking for new Open Source CMS platform that works and allows me to skip steps during the install process :D.


Moral of the story: Jesus Christ Drupal is a pain in the ass and I'm ditching it for another CMS platform. Way too buggy and the install file is crap and won't let you skip steps (yes the db is already created.)

Configuration:
Windows 2008 server R2 SP1
SQL Server 2008
Commerce Guys Drupal
IIS 7

(Also if you plan on coming here going "HERP STOP USING IIS/MSSQL" I don't want to hear it. I'm not building another damned server because the Commerce Guys Drupal install doesn't work with a pretty typical config, thanks. I'm also starting to think Drupal is just buggy. I spent most of the day dealing with the regular Drupal package yesterday and couldn't get it to work then either. But I'll take any help. For now I'm scrapping the whole thing. At least I learned how to set up the php handlers in IIS :))

Edit: After my ranting I thought I'd give the Acquia install a go. Perfect, took 5 minutes.

The Crystal Cox verdict

Crystal sent me her briefs and legal docs a few weeks ago. I read through them and thought about what that meant in regards to my case and how mine pertained to her. Today the Oregonian reported on her verdict.

Here are my thoughts:

1. I was advised against using the retraction statute in Oregon as it hasn't been clarified to apply to bloggers. Disappointingly Judge Hernandez's ruling supports that, even though it seems like common sense. I believe the retraction statute should apply. Perhaps it's time to petition the legislature. Think about the amount of time and money that could be saved if it was clarified that the retraction statute does apply.

2. This is a double edged sword:

(3) proof of adherence to journalistic standards such as editing, fact-checking or disclosures of conflicts of interest

It should be noted that I had to respond to questions about conflicts of interest with Dr. Darm. 100% of the journalists I spoke to asked me outright if I had any. I was honest, I don't and didn't. If I had, I wouldn't have posted it in the first place. Or I would have disclosed.

To claim bloggers don't fact-check or edit is a little off. Some journalists don't fact-check well. For example, several publications referred to Dr. Darm as a plastic surgeon.He isn't. He doesn't outright claim to be. To say traditional journalists can make mistakes because of "credentials" and bloggers can't disrupts the playing field.

And where do you draw this line? Would say Mike Benner have more protections over his personal blog than me? Just because he has a press pass through KGW? How about Lars Larson who operates in mostly opinion (and in my own opinion, fantasy?) It seems like there was a very arbitrary line drawn that hopefully a court of appeals will toss.

But then if I was obliged to uphold journalistic standards, what would that look like? My blog is obviously opinion based. While I try to adhere to ethics, I don't have the training to be a true journalist and uphold those standards all the time. I have to rely on personal protections like the First Amendment and special motions like anti-SLAPP

And how would a retraction statue apply to people with Twitter accounts? Would it just be a blanket "I'm so sorry" law?

So would we be asking for more protection than just our basic rights to free speech? Just because we can set up a blog/tumblr and hit publish post?

3. Cox didn't file an anti-SLAPP.

4. Her blogs are obviously opinion to a layman.

I'm disappointed in the ruling. I haven't really had a chance to wade through all the briefs and the suit itself. But I feel like a lot of what Judge Hernandez said puts bloggers rights back about three steps. We also need the retraction clause to apply to online media. But that would mean we'd have to step it up and be more than just citizens with Internet access.

Even with my ambivalence the whole issue with the retraction clause, I hope the decision is eventually overturned. Good luck to Ms Cox in the court of appeals!

It's worth noting the comments were more sympathetic in my case than hers. And I'm not entirely sure why. Except for the one conspiracy loon. That was weird.

Oregon Chinchilla Stuff!

Our little Vincenza.

It seems to be hard to figure out where has what kind of food, what kind of things are suitable and who even sells them!

This is the information we've come across so far.

Vet clinic:
North Portland Veterinary Hospital
- took our babies in, Dr. Weinstein handled them very well. I was probably more nervous than they were.

Chinchilla Resources in Portland and the metro area:
Pets on Broadway
- Had aspen bedding, pellets, chew toys, hay and everything you could need. Also has two that are getting ready to be adopted!

Nature's Pet
- On 21st, little more limited selection but they do keep a lot of what you'd need to get started. More dog and cat oriented but they're gearing up to do more with small animals.

Quality Cage
- I really wish I would have known about them before! As it is, I'll probably get some of the cage guards (less poop to sweep up on the floor!)

Quality Mutation Chinchillas
- Based out in Hillsboro; breeds, boards, makes toys and treats. I think she also takes rescues. No experience with them

Raining Chinchillas
- Breeders. Informative but for us the cost was prohibitive.

Little girl selling stuff for chinchillas on Craigslist
- No experience with her but lovely that she's trying to support her pets on her own.

Outside of Portland:
Ronda's Chins
- Hermiston, breeders and suppliers

English expats versus American expats

When American ex-pats meet the conversation goes something like this.
American1: "OH MY GOD HI WHERE ARE YOU FROM CAN YOU BELIEVE THE TRAINS AND WHAT IS UP WITH THAT WHOLE 'TRA LOVE' THING."
American2: "I AM FROM X CITY IT IS SO NICE TO MEET SOMEONE WHO KNOWS WHERE THAT IS AND THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WASHINGTON STATE AND WASHINGTON DC ALSO I DON'T HAVE TO DEMONSTRATE THE LOCATION OF OREGON WITH MY HANDS.:
American1: "I KNOW LET'S BE FRIENDS."

When the English meet it goes something like this:
Me (notes accent:) "Where are you from?"
English1: "England"
Me: "Yeah, where."
English1: "Manchester."
Me: "He (gestures towards husband) is from Wigan."
Husband: "Alright mate?"
English1: "They really cleaned up the Arndale."

The vet noticed my Wigan Warriors sweatshirt yesterday that I was wearing in honor of Four Nations. I don't care if it makes me look like a poser. Rugby League is the best sport ever.

The cost benefit analysis of adopting chinchillas

We adopted two chinchillas! Pictured above are our lovely Vincenza and Christopher. Vincenza was Vincent before but that all changed with the vet visit yesterday. We thought we adopted two boys. We didn't.

First off, I know it's obvious but dang these guys are a lot of work. If you're thinking of adopting chinchillas take the cost into consideration:

- Chinchillas themselves $200
- Zip Car to pick them up and take them to the vet (the clinic 6 blocks up the road 1. doesn't deal with exotics that much, 2. didn't respond to an e-mail requesting an appointment. We had to find a specialist.) $100
- Vet exam + fecal test $130
- Future surgery for neutering $330
- Cage $144
- New little hidey house + other accessories $40
- Food, (bottled) water and bedding $100
- Pet carrier + treats and another hidey house $60
- Ceramic treat and pee dishes from Goodwill $10
- Piece of marble so they have a place to cool off if they need to $20
- Air conditioner (got a pretty good deal) $150

Grand total (so far!) Just under $1,300.

I'm not complaining about the cost as such but posting this as a word of warning, chinchillas are high maintenance. They need a lot. And I still have more to do to prep for Christopher's surgery.

- Fleece for bedding
- Fleece house that he can't jump on to while he has his stitches
- Neosporin
- Syringe, prescriptions and possibly specialized pet food in case he stops eating
- Pediacare in case he stops drinking

By the end of all this it's costing about $2000 to set them up. There are also some serious time, energy and intellectual costs.

- Play time 30-45 minutes a day that's chinchilla proof. I've since found this isn't entirely accurate! In fact our baby was playing a little too hard so we cut it down to a couple times a week for 15 minutes. But that is still true: ----> They have sensitive digestive tracts and will chew absolutely anything!
- Inside temp about 60-64 degrees F
- Feed twice a day hay + pellets
- Give purified water
- Clean cage once a week
- Spot clean cage every day
- Dust baths 3-4 a week (we give them baths every other day.)
- I need to find the draft going through our place to prevent respiratory infections.
- Handle, be bit, put your head in the age to have them bond with you (if they do.)
- Never ending list of supplies and ways to thwart boredom
- Clean with vinegar and water instead of bleach
- Check for hair rings on the penis of the males


But here's the thing, we love them already. We picked them up on Halloween and after a tiny 7 days of looking after, watching and playing with them, we're really attached. When we found out Vincenza was a lady chinchilla we examined our options.

- She's only 6 months, risk breeding her and having deformed babies or possibly have her die. If she's not pregnant already.
- Split them up into separate cages. Extremely sad, they're very close. They're separated now and hating it.
- Give one away, we can't.

In the end neutering Christopher is the best option. It prevents later careless breeding if, god forbid, we can't take care of them anymore. But even knowing it's a routine procedure, and it's going to be performed by an exotic pet specialist, it's still risky. I'd be so gutted. Because they're totally worth all the trouble.

They're bouncy, chatty, smart and entertaining. When they do start getting used to you they groom, bounce on you, climb on your head and leave little dusty paw prints on black trousers. We knew about the commitment and cost going in but it's easy to miss all of this.

And I see so many rehoused on Craigslist because people can't handle them anymore. Be careful, consider the cost and do your research!

The Media

(This is a part in a series about my experiences with being sued and what the process, legalese, emotions and fear are like. I hope it helps someone else who may or may not be in the same position. It’s helping me to write about it, it is terrifying. Being sued is truly an existential kind of a thing (as my attorney put it.))

I knew this was going to get media attention after a few minutes of receiving the brown envelope. The lawsuit is something I would read and talk about if I was a bystander, being the Internet junkie I am. I was apprehensive. I’ve dealt with media attention before and found it stressful and anxiety inducing. At first I guess it’s flattering, something major happens in your life and someone is interested in it.

I'm used to being noticed, or recognized. You could say a lot of what I do draws attention to myself. The bike pictured? That's mine. But that's on my terms. I bought that bike because I liked it. I bought it because it was special. I decorated the helmet to match. Most of the time I like the attention I get from it (I was once told that I looked like "an awesome alien man." My favorite.) But I don't feel I have to be aware of it all the time or that somehow I'm under scrutiny.

I also have a terrible habit of laughing when I’m nervous. Humor is how I cope with a lot of negative things in my life. And the English only contributed to my self deprecation. In the north it’s looked down on to promote yourself too much. I brought a lot of that back with me.

In this situation I knew both the amount and topic, Twitter, would get public interest. It’s current and it’s a fuck of a lot of money. People like me don’t typically get sued for a million dollars, it’s usually the Eliot Spitzers and Courtney Loves of the world. What I didn’t expect was for the attention to be so sustained.

Dealing with the press is almost as nerve wracking as dealing with legal issues. You don’t know who is going to pick it up, or how. And frankly, due to the above self deprecation I don’t like looking at myself. I also don’t really have any motivation to be on television. And Jesus, what if I laughed? Would people understand or would it seem that I didn't take it seriously?

So why did I do it? I honestly think knowledge about the anti-SLAPP special motion is important. And publicizing that aspect became important to me. Secondly I knew that Twitter defamation was new and I wanted to convey how a lawsuit like this can fill you with fear and chill your speech. But also that you have options for fighting back.

I was also surprised at how the wheels of the media grind on. What I was expecting was an initial burst and then silence. Instead I was told about stories almost every week since we filed our motion. Most of the stories were last minute, based off the journalist’s deadline. Some I didn’t know about until after they went to print, like the second Tribune article and the Oregonian.

Who didn’t run the stories was also pretty interesting. All in all the following contacted me throughout the case:

KGW - Didn’t run, though the interview with Ed Teachout was lovely and I enjoyed talking to him.
KOIN - Scheduled and then canceled
KATU - Ran the story
KOMO - Didn’t know, ran a very edited version
Willamette Week - Interviewed (really awkwardly thanks to seriously messed up reception) but didn’t run.
Mercury - Broke the story, ran two
LO Review / Tribune - Quick quote, two stories, ran story when it ended.
Oregonian - Ran the story two months after it broke in the Mercury, ran story when it ended.
OPB - Think Out Loud

The above aren’t even counting the subsequent echo chamber.

What annoyed me the most was how it all impacted my work schedule. What you watch on television for 2 minutes or read for 5-10 takes 30 minutes of filming or questions from the press. You also spend a ton of time preparing, normal people do not have press agents. You may have thoughts and feelings (a lot of mine involved the word fuck) but they’re yours and private. And some people might not understand.

Like my worry over my bike. Like laughing and randomly shouting "This is not my beautiful house! How did I get here?!" a la the Talking Heads. That's exactly what you want to see on the 5:00 news? Right?

Get the knowledge out there about anti-SLAPP at the sacrifice of my sanity and my lunch break. Work until 8:00pm the next day to make up for lost time. I was pulling tons of 10-12 hour days to make it all up and get my pretty heavy workload completed. As much as the lawsuit was a part of my life, so was my work. And frankly my work is far more important because I get a paycheck.

I also don’t know where the impression that media = payday comes from. I don’t advertise here (what’s the point? Up until recently my blog was read by my friends, some family and one very devoted reader from Australia.)

What was really encouraging were all the positive comments on the story. I was very interested in public feedback and genuinely what people thought. Some of the other comments and stories weren’t all that positive, which is ok too, that’s what the Internet is for. But there were the ones that were more out of left field, suggesting there’s a puppet master and I was put up to writing what I did and some, like the Seattle Weekly, that were dreadfully researched.

Ultimately dealing with the media is a trade off, it’s your time for a soundbite about something you feel is important. The attention is stressful and you’re setting yourself to go under a microscope like you never have before. You have to make sacrifices. You just have to decide whether it’s worth it.

I also have one confession to make. I accidentally lied to the media.

I'm 33. I just haven't updated my Blogger profile for a while. Sorry media.

Ennui

Ennui

I shouldn’t be so bleah. But I am. All week long I’ve been trying to fight off an annoyed voice in the back of my head going “life sucks.” But how could it? This particular week I’ve been to see Roger Daltrey, made arrangements to adopt chinchillas, had my first personal training session, made steak and ale pie, got pretty much caught up on work and a couple other awesome things.

I think I’m deflating. All the background strain and holding it together crumbled and I’m left with the boredom that prompts me to go digging around in the first place. Even the Sims Pet Expansion pack leaves me cold. By today even after riding my bike to work, I get in, receive a somewhat scolding e-mail and deflate even further.

I feel like George in Dead Like Me. Spinning around aimless in an office chair, looking at my task list with its tick boxes and inexplicable e-mails. Doing the stuff that needs to be done and going home.

Jesus Christ this is depressing.

Here’s a picture of a skeleton I took in Puerta Vallarta in January as a reward for suffering through it.

My search terms are back to normal.

This is an utterly useless post.

I'm sure you can guess what search terms were the most popular during the whole recent debacle.

However, it's good to see they're getting back to normal!

kimberlee petersons eyebrow - Kimberlee Peterson is awesome, just so you know.

feminists are ugly - This comes up with alarming frequency. I don't know who you people are but you pretty much suck.

old horror movies - Yes.

cute baby lemur - More yes.

cinnamon bear portland - And more yes

Sarah palin ass - The phrase "ass covering" is really misunderstood by people clicking through to this site.

portland horse rings - Awesome.

This is an alarming new entry:

killing her with a pillow in the horror movie - Um. I hope you're not looking for advice.

Moving on!

For the record, I will no longer be discussing the original allegations.* This stems from a desire just to get on with things and my life and allow the other party to do the same. I feel like they've been hashed and re-hashed and had more attention than I ever anticipated or frankly, wanted.

There are bigger issues at stake here.

I'm not a terribly private person but being under a legal and public microscope for so long is taking its toll.

I'm pleased with the end result of the case. I feel like a 20 ton weight has been lifted off my chest. But instead of feeling entirely liberated, I feel strangely exhausted. This has been a very trying time for me and for my husband.

I was encouraged by Judge LaBarre's rulings that 1. Twitter is a public forum and 2. That medical disciplinary records are in the public interest.

I also think this case highlights the need for federal anti-SLAPP legislation. Especially since it's not like Twitter is only in Oregon. And right now it's extremely important that all voices are heard without the fear of chilling their speech.

Anyway, thank you for the debate and support. Even those who disagree with me are welcome to comment and I hear the feedback from the other side too. As I keep saying and I do mean this sincerely, the Internet is a great platform for debate on both sides. I respect all opinions.

That's it for now. The first day of not being sued is brilliant.

*In the complaint. I will discuss the case and anti-SLAPP

This matter has been settled

Where else to say it but here? I have more in my Dr. Darm diary that I'll post at a later date but I had to say it.

It's finally over.

This matter has been settled.

Simple but beautiful words.

Finding an attorney

(This is a part in a series about my experiences with being sued and what the process is like. I hope it helps someone else who may or may not be in the same position. It’s helping me to write about it because it is terrifying and I’m pretty scared. Being sued is truly an existential kind of a thing (as my attorney put it.))

How the hell do I find a lawyer?

The next day I tapped my social network with a big stiff your-friend-is-being-sued-for-a-million-dollars index finger. I received some great referrals and found Linda, who I had a very good feeling about. What I didn't necessarily have a good feeling about was exactly how many attorneys my friends know. What are you up to guys?

But beyond the help I received, the stress was still awful. I couldn’t sleep, eat, concentrate and was walking around listless and on the verge of tears when I wasn’t working or on the phone. Besides work, it was a part time job contacting lawyers and so very tiring.

Unlike many of my friends I never had to find an attorney before. I didn't know what to look for or how to shop for one. It's not like buying a laptop or finding a new bike. It was more like interviewing for a job. You find out if you like them, if they like you. If they like what you have to offer and you approve.

The resource that was enormously helpful was the Electronic Frontier Foundation. They gave me advice and told me about a statute I'd never heard of before. The anti-SLAPP.

But no matter how exhausted I was, I was still taking Benadryl to get some rest. I wasn’t going to be any good at my job, to my husband to my friends, unless I rested. When his commercials came on it was a slap to the face. That’s the man that's suing me. I flipped over to Netflix.

If they wanted to chill my speech, they did. I was afraid to post anything in public, or say anything at all about the biggest event in my life.

That weekend I hid in the house and recharged. I was exhausted and stressed with having to choose an attorney, and still worried about losing what little I have. Every morning I woke up and every morning I had the crushing realization I was being sued for a million dollars.

I finally talked to Linda. And things got started.

There really wasn’t a lot for me to do at that point and that really bothered me. I felt like my fate was out of my hands and really, it was.

Being served and sued

(This is a part in a series about my experiences being sued and what the process, legalese, emotions and fear are like. Honestly, even posting this is equally as scary. But I hope it helps someone else who may or may not be in the same position. Finding a lawyer is tough, the emotions are tough, it's all pretty damned hard to deal with. It’s helping me to write about it, as the hearing on the 15th gets closer, it's becoming even realer (is that a word?) than it was when I was initially served. Being sued is truly an existential kind of a thing (as my attorney put it.))

On July 11th, I was scrambling to get my house in order for a small gathering of friends. Move the shoes, get the chairs, put the chips out in my record player bowl and put together a Philip Glass play list.

The knock came at 7:45, 15 minutes early and we were still tidying up. Though my friends know I’m a little disorganized and busy, I’d like to have them believe otherwise in some house-proud kind of a way. “They’re early! Damn them!” I shouted from the computer. Philip stopped, “there’s someone here for you?” Thinking I’d go to the door and find a 5-foot chicken or something equally bizarre, I was surprised to find a sunny blond woman holding a plain brown envelope.

I knew what it was. I’ve served people before. When I was about 18 I guess I didn’t look like a court employee, so I handed over documents at a construction site. She didn’t really look like a server either, or certainly not as you’d picture one. I usually see Ice-T or Christopher Meloni in my head whenever I think of courts (too much Law and Order I guess.)

I knew I could probably just look at her, shake my head no and not touch the envelope. But the court has a way of tracking people down and servers get creative. It would just delay the inevitable and I’d still be served. Besides, my curiosity got the better of me. What the hell could this possibly be about? Mystified, I reached out and touched it with my thumb and index finger “you’ve been served.” “For what?!” I exclaimed, more out of shock than an actual question.

“I don’t know, I’m just the server!” she called, rushing out of the courtyard. A speedy exit, I remembered, is important just after you've served someone.

As I closed the door I racked my brain for options. Maybe an old debt when I was young and stupid? Is there something I forgot to pay? Maybe some other court kind of a thing?

I looked at the envelope for a minute and opened it. I read through the discovery and the lawsuit. “Dr. Darm is suing me! Oh my god!” And then I saw the amount.

“For a million dollars.”

My brain raced 5000 miles a minute. Stress about house cleaning and my previous good mood evaporated. I was in shock. I was terrified. A million dollars is a frightening and extraordinary amount of money to someone like me.

Weird and not so weird thoughts passed through my head. Could they take my bike? (Worth nothing except it’s blue and covered in stars, it’s still one of my prized possessions.) How could I possibly pay anyone that much money without winning the lottery? Could they take my meagre 401k? How could I find someone to help me? I read and re-read the papers, shaking. What could I do? What were my options? How could I get help?

I knew one thing, I had to find an attorney.

But I had no idea how.