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i am now using instagram, twitter, and a new tumblr account. usernames are all now “levigreenacres” if you care to keep up with my words and pictures.

thanks,
levi

levigreenacres.tumblr.com
twitter.com/levigreenacres
facebook.com/levigreenacres
www.levigreenacres.com

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hey everybody,

i realized i am trying to keep up with too many sites, so i am going to stop posting on tumblr for now. EYEHEARTPDX.COM will still be active and updated, so please come and visit there! thanks to all of you who have followed this tumblr and passed the images and links around. i appreciate the support, and hope to see you all at eyeheartpdx.com! you can also keep up with the EYEHEARTPDX facebook here.

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PITY THE FOOL THAT DISRESPECTS THIS VAN

in 1972, a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn’t commit. after they made a tv show about it, this van promptly escaped to the Portland underground, where it rests in the parking lot of a construction company, in the shadow of a sketchy bridge over the railroad tracks. if you have a camera, if you can spot it, and the owner of this beast that looks menacing just sitting there doesn’t run you down, maybe you can photograph (insert machine gun fire sounds): The A-Team Van.

of all the many things to love about this town, one is how seriously people take the restoration and driving of vintage vehicles. this bad boy is complete to the littlest details: red mag wheels, stripe just so, gratuitous spoiler, GMC logo painted red under the brush guard, and the inside is cherry, too. i went out on a mission to photograph a very scary bridge (see upcoming post), and while that was an amazing adventure, i just had to share this thing i spied through the rusty chain link on the Bridge Of Death. to the owner of this van, i salute you. thank you for being awesome.

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need more PDX? check out EYEHEARTPDX.COM! have a Portland moment to share? submit your photos, stories, event recommendations here.

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BLUEBIRD IN MY HEART

i am glad i got to see “Barfly” on the big screen. i am glad i got to see it at a theater that served beer. it’s the kind of a film that if you love Bukowski, you will love it sober. but, if you really loved Bukowski, you’d probably watch it with at least a drink or two in you first. i really love Bukowski.

where movie trailers and advertisements would often play before the film, various pieces of interviews and bits of the documentary “Born Into This” rolled, the name of that film taken from this poem. one thing i love about hearing the guy talk in his own voice and words, unlike the portrayal by Mickey Rourke, is that when i read the guy i get a feeling like he’s a towering lumberjack shouting through a bottomless trash can. to hear him actually talk, is to hear a guy who is cooler than all of the other claimants to the thrones of “Beat Writers,” of whom is occasionally lumped in with. and, to see footage of him, especially in the documentary, is to see a guy who knew what love is– a hard time, occasionally sweet, a constant struggle. in his words, love is “A fog that burns away in the morning.”

the organizer of this event read one of the pieces aloud that summed up his life pretty well.Bluebird. it was especially relevant to her in that this showing of the film was to be the last event she organized for at the Hollywood Theater. i am glad that i got to set sail on the last theatrical voyage of the Fleur de Lethal at this grand old venue–which has previously shown Pee Wee’s Big Adventure, and Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory, among others. it is something of the dying breed of cinemas in Portland, a display of grandeur from another era that will not be replaced when it is gone.

there weren’t a lot of people in attendance at the showing of “Barfly.” but the people who were made the experience amazing. if you’ve never watched a favorite old movie on the big screen with hardcore fans, it’s a singular moment when people around you laugh at the same things, quote the same lines you love, cheer or hiss in the same spots, without being an unruly mob whose objective it is to be the movie acted out. it’s like gathering together with dear friends you see rarely in a huge living room, with whom you may know only one thing you have in common, but that one thing is amazing.

thanks to Nico Bella for putting on a show i love.

BLAMELESS SELF PROMOTION

tonight, i’m telling a story at the Mystery Box Show at the Brody Theater. i’m no Bukowski, but i share the same reverence for bacon, and those who smoke it.

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need more PDX? check out EYEHEARTPDX.COM! have a Portland moment to share? submit your photos, stories, event recommendations here.

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BOURBON, BIRDS, AND BUKOWSKI

when i found out that the Hollywood Theatre was going to be showing “Barfly” in honor of Bukowski’s birthday, my first thought was that i needed to take some expensive whiskey in a cheap flask with ducks on it to sip on while watching one of my favorite movies of all time. my second thought was leave it to Portland to show this movie on the big screen! it’s been a hard movie to find on disc even, which is the only way i’ve seen it, after a convoluted fistfight with a movie store that ended in me paying a lost disc fee of 10 bucks to own it.

i’ve many amazing experiences with this author. after getting stood up by friends one night, i staggered drunkenly from the bar where we were supposed to meet into a bookstore that stayed open late and bought “Ham On Rye.” i sobered up slowly on the sidewalk reading that book, and feeling like maybe my life hadn’t been that awful after all. and one of the best times i’ve had with any book was reading “Post Office” on the plane to and from Las Vegas. when i came back from that crazy place, i’d seen Tom Jones, been drunk for three days straight with almost no sleep, and gone bungee jumping. and, having read a diatribe on the modern workplace’s bureaucratic soul grinder, i took the write up i got from my boss for having a “bad attitude” and wadded it up and threw it away. in a scene right out of “Post Office,” he wrote me up again and watched the paper go in the trash. quoting Bukowski, i let him know “I can throw these away as fast as you can write them.” i was then sent home for three days, which i took as an extended vacation, and came back even more refreshed and saucy.

hopefully you’ve got your own fond memories of this writer, who for better or for worse, made a huge dent in literature because of his refusal to live any way except for exactly how he wanted. if you don’t have any experience at all with him, this movie encapsulates the spirit of his work pretty well. it’s also my favorite Mickey Rourke film. the book “Hollywood” talks about the making of this film, and makes for a fantastic companion to the film after you’ve seen it. i’ll be there on the 18th to dip my blog in it. hope to see you there.

BONUS CHICKEN

Hip Hug Her. 

i don’t know if Tony Millionaire authorized the use of Drinky Crow, but you should check him out, too.

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need more PDX? check out EYEHEARTPDX.COM! have a Portland moment to share? submit your photos, stories, event recommendations here.

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GOOD TIMES VORTEX

there is a school in southeast Portland that has a little playground and picnic tables that are open to the public. it’s a nice place, people walk their dogs there, stroll through, play at the tennis or basketball court. sometimes it collects the odd urban camper, but usually it’s quiet, and no one interrupts my upside-down time on the tire swing.

last night, walking through this still tableau of youthful goodtimery was a slightly strange sight. it was as if one of those bombs scientists are occasionally rumored to be talking about building,  that vaporize people but leave all the stuff intact, had gone off and interrupted a lively event. surrounding a picnic table were a bunch of log segments, standing on end as if to seat a bunch of short people.  an empty box lay in the grass with a purple string attached as a makeshift handle, the kind of thing you might carry an imaginary turtle in. and then, under the streetlight in the center of the big toys, abandoned hula hoops. a dozen of them.

these weren’t the cheapo chain store hoops either. these were the fancy stripey-taped kind you buy from someone who is saving up money to go to Burning Man by way of Thailand, and along the way they are going to build a nine-person yurt from reclaimed prototype submarine parts and solar panels, that will feature a dance hall, collapsible hydrogen-fusion gourmet kitchen, and coin operated sustainable upcycled-water laundromat.

it could be that people just left these things on the ground when they were done with them. it could also be that the participants of a short-lived series of festivities were eaten by snakes. in either case, a finger-wagging is in order. if you are going to have a party in a public space, clean up your toys. if you are a snake capable of consuming a whole party, eat the party favors, too.

at least no one was there to witness how bad a hula-hooper i really am this time.

BONUS CHICKEN:

Well, they can’t fix your brakes.

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need more PDX? check out EYEHEARTPDX.COM! have a Portland moment to share? submit your photos, stories, event recommendations here.

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RETURN OF THE BONZO

a while back i posted a couple of N.O. Bonzo’s pieces i’d seen around town. i didn’t know who the artist was at first, until someone kindly identified them by their nom de plume. thanks internets! so, when i saw this newer piece i got really excited. first of all, all of Bonzo’s pieces are beautiful. also, they are wheat pasted on walls. if you have never wheat pasted before, it’s a messy enterprise. unlike spray painting, the stuff you have to use is heavy, splashy, and it’s hard to look like you are doing anything else, if you happened to get noticed while doing it. i had some fun wheat pasting posters for shows in Seattle, and encountering concerned citizens and civil servants alike.

so, these works are doubly fascinating to me, both in their beauty and their application. thanks to N.O. Bonzo for making them and turning the city of roses into a guerilla gallery. if anyone knows how to get in touch with the artist, i would love to interview them for EYEHEARTPDX! or, at least to pass on my thanks personally. 

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need more PDX? check out EYEHEARTPDX.COM! have a Portland moment to share? submit your photos, stories, event recommendations here.

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a little while ago i got this from Joni Renee, who i met at the  Mystery Box Show i posted about here. it is a piece of poetry made from the tags for posts i’ve created atEYEHEARTPDX. thank you Joni, this is really cool!

Art makes an ass of every banana in the ballroom.
Sometimes a barracuda with a beard will say, “Jesus, just looking at that
printmaker gives me the goosepimples, now get me a beer.”
I in my St. Bernard body will roll my eyes once, and again (a bonus)
at the sheer pompousness that invades this platform–it’s tangible in both
Books and bossanova. I’ve even seen it in bottleworks and breakfast boxes, and on
Burlesque dancers’ bumper stickers. It’s no business of mine to say whose candy
is craft, but is a painting of chicken and corn at a cricket match really worth all that?
Are we appreciating, or are we just demons of degradation?
It’s the deprivation of talent that
Deludes us to the point of feeding dogs doughnuts.
Real art is a dwarf family floating free in the Frost of an icy Scottish lake.
Art is the geeklesque girl who only recently went gluten free, but still
Finds time to do graffiti in her hot house.
Art is James staying up late eating jellybeans with one Joker card sitting in the trash can. It’s unwanted.
Art is the homeless men who congregate in the
Upper floor of the library, paint murals with their urine,
and lead a life steeped in local mystery.
On a night when owls prowl in Portland, I will paint a poster on the poets’ doors and read their readings Redder than ever.
They’ll awaken to a sexy show of space stickers on flower-adorned tanks, whilst I
Sooner update the voodoo wig.

BLAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION

just a reminder, i’ll be performing at the next Mystery Box Show August 23rd, 7:30pm at the Brody Theater. Tickets are available here. Hope to see you there!

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need more PDX? check out EYEHEARTPDX.COM! have a Portland moment to share? submit your photos, stories, event recommendations here.

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HOT BUNS IN THE SUMMER TIME!

if you are from a place that has better-defined seasons that the western half of the Northwest Coast, the thing that happens during those precious few weeks of sunshine may be something of a cultural enigma. specifically, people lose their sense of time and place. all of the summertime that often gets stretched out over a few months elsewhere gets crammed into a powder keg of frantic solar-powered mania. people become social, dazedly romantic, incredulous, prone to spontaneous daydreaming (sometimes while driving), prone to complaining about the 80-plus degree temperatures, and a whole lot more naked. for those of us who make most of their yearly income on this heightened nakedness, it’s a busy time, catering to those bewildered masses who come crawling out of mossy dungeons, skins bared, eyes squinting, hearts open.

personally, i love summer. i was born in the summer. in fact, i was born yesterday. July 24 is the one day of the year i don’t get to say one of my favorite country-fried colloquialisms: “I might have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night.” one of my other favorite sayings (besides “please pass the gravy) is: “Summer’s not over. It’s comin’!” this is my mantra during the 11 months of gray drizzly drab, when fecund clouds hover pregnantly in pigmentless monochrome over my damp wool-covered forehead and whisper the steps to rain dances in my hairy ears.

so, when i see the telltale signs of fellow sun worshippers dancing woozy on mirror-skinned sidewalks, glowing pasty and incandescent from exposed navels and kneecaps, sunbeams radiating from eye sockets and laugh holes, i rejoice. this is the season kept secretly in my cloud-belted aorta. where my daydreams spread picnic blankets, my ink pens gather inspiration, and my skin stores vitamin D for a perpetual winter’s naptime.

walking to a bus stop recently, i saw this manifesto scrawled onto the asphault. it sums up the joy and reckless love a few days of sun brings out in my fellow Portlanders. so, keep your chins pointed toward that radioactive incandescence in the sky while you can, PDX, and may your bottoms be brave, brash, and bare.

summer is ready when you are.

BONUS CHICKEN!

Light & Day, by The Polyphonic Spree. Oh, that kooky Michel Gondry.

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need more PDX? check out EYEHEARTPDX.COM! have a Portland moment to share? submit your photos, stories, event recommendations here.

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if you are a faithful follower of EYEHEARTPDX, you’ll know i like bananas. maybe more than a little. and, if i’ve ever sent you an email, or a letter, you know that i have signed off these communiques “Tasty Bananas.” because it is polite to leave someone with a happy, yellow, and slightly silly farewell. if you are not privy to this information, then i may be just a kook with a thing for the third color of the rainbow, and a somewhat lovable eccentric fascination with a nutritiously slapsticksical fruit.

my thing with this particular banana started when i was 19, and i got a catalog in the mail for one of those discount CD clubs. it was there that i saw the Velvet Underground’s Peel Slowly And See, a box set of most  of their studio music and extra live stuff, demos, what have you. i plugged that first disc in under cover of darkness in a freezing basement full of turpentine, spiders, and expired tin cannisters of DDT, and got my mind completely blown. i hadn’t heard anything like it before, and i sat and listened to each disc in turn, one after the other, until the sun had come up. there chain smoking in a funky dungeon, fiddling with the removable vinyl decal from the box, i began an odyssey into psych music, andy warhol study, and banana appreciation.

when i began collecting tattoos on my left arm, i starting getting them from the shoulder down, rather than from the wrist up as many people do, especially those who want you know they’ve got them. i liked the way the long and curvy banana went with the shape of my bicep, and made a nice frame for my other stuff up there. also, i figured it would be a laff riot to have that slightly past its prime fruit in my armpit, so on hot and sweaty days i could give myself the sniff test, make a face, and say: “whew, i am RIPE!” i still crack myself up with this.

i’ve met 2 other people with this tattoo. one was a gal that has it on her forearm twisted at a jaunty angle so that it wraps around her arm a bit. she was understandably alarmed when i saw her handing me my soda one night at a restaurant, and i leapt up shouting “Banana Buddy!” hoisting my sleeve up to show off my armpit. another person had this as a lower back piece, hovering over their posterior menacingly, almost like a pirate spacecraft, daring the foolhardy to attempt to tangle with its potassium death ray. and then i met this fine gentleman on Friday the 13th, whose first and only tattoo was the Warhol banana, and we both had it in the same place. he now has a second tattoo, happy to say. so now there are three i’ve met, each my brethren (or sistren, if you like) in banana, lovers of Pop Art, or the Velvet Underground, or just the color yellow, or maybe even plain old just being awesome. can’t fault someone for that.

so there you have it. Portland brings the fruit-crossed, star-spangled, dream-prone and weird together. thank you, Banana Buddy, wherever you are, for making one crazy day in the Rose City just a bit more delightful.

BONUS CHICKEN!

Day Old Banana Puddin.

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need more PDX? check out EYEHEARTPDX.COM! have a Portland moment to share? submit your photos, stories, event recommendations here.