2008 All-Star

Brandon Roy.

cleveland v. portland 1/30/08

went to rose garden last night, 6pm tip. real nice game for 3 quarters. but here's a thought: when you have a 1 pt lead w/ 5 seconds left and the cavs are inbounding you can be certain that the ball is going to the league's leading scorer, so you should put a body or two on him. you should/could maybe even foul him. at the very least you should not step aside and show him a clear, unimpeded pathway to the basket so he can glide into the paint and lay it up. whatever you do, don't do that.

our last trip to the rose garden (houston v portland 1/25) was a loss as well, but this one hurt more. so close...



yesterday, in a fit of job-related torment and boredom
i came across a site which allows anonymous spewage. some of these were so horrible and laugh-out-loud funny that i instantly felt better. of course, i had to come back to work today but still: temporary relief is better than none at all.

mm and i are going to the rose garden tonight. first game back for the blazers after their road trip. they went 3-4 but this is pretty positive all things considered. also, it's channing frye bobblehead night. so there's that


lightnin' hopkins - lonesome road

central coast of oregon

spent this wknd on the oregon central coast, near yachats, at our favorite place in honor of mm rounding the bend and ripening to 34. [this pic is actually from a prior visit but it will have to suffice until i find some time].

it was another tremendous visit: good weather, 2 great hikes, some flopping, some good meals, some seals, whale sightings, 2 bald-eagles. after all the anxiety of the past several weeks it was also a much needed respite, a spot to regather and recenter. feel much better, thanks.


portland v. boston 1/16/08

i suppose there's no real benefit to griping about the completely lopsided officiating that contributed to record-setting blazer turnovers in last night's game. refereeing is just one of those that's life equations that you can't really do anything about except shrug and presume that it all evens out in the end. still, there were multiple ridiculous calls and uncalled fouls against portland that affected the outcome. But despite that the blazers kept it close and impressive for most of the game, particularly for the youngest team in the league playing on the road, playing the team w/ the best record in the NBA, a team eager to erase their first consecutive losses. the blazers didn't cave, they fought on.

that said, the sight of KG flapping his gums, barking his thuggy barks and spewing his bilious hot air BS was maddening.

here's to the 2/24 rematch at the rose garden...



amazing possibility from nasa today, at the junction of the astronomical and the human. to think that the technologies that facilitate extreme spectroscopic electronic systems or nebulae gas-analysis in space may be used for/toward brain tumors is nuts. meaning awesome.


annual MRI

yesterday was the annual joy good-time fun brain scan in clackamas. the morning I arrive at the same hospital, same waiting room w/ the same receptionist and same bad painting, the same changing room w/ the same key for valuables attached to a wiffle-ball, the same MRI bay, the same enormous sci-fi machine that I was inserted into a mere and/or interminable 3 years ago: the very event that kicked off my travels into brain tumor land.

granted I’ve had multiple MRIs since that very first one but in different locations (MGH, OHSU etc). Returning to the original hospital always triggers some sort of body reaction. pre-flight nervousness. body quake. anxiety. fear. panic. nausea. depression. blend. swallow. repeat. the unfortunate thing is that it is a sustained sensation, one that I’ve been enduring for the past 5 wks, beginning in early December, continuing through the new year and beyond.

the best metaphor I can summon (also the most unsavory) is that if you were gang-raped in an alleyway and every year afterward asked by your doctor to return to that alleyway to confirm that you won’t ever be gang-raped again, your body would resist that idea of return, wanting instead to get as far away – geographically, emotionally, temporally – to blot out all memory of the worst experience of your life. Defying all rational thought and all the science and all the treatments and all the numbers in my favor; once the rug has been yanked out, it is near impossible to trust implicitly that it won’t ever be yanked again.

However, if this is the price I pay to be alive I’ll pay it. I’m one of the lucky ones.

If you’ve never had an MRI for your brain it is difficult to explain what the experience is like. The grinding unsteady churn of whirling magnets in staccato bursts in rapid fire full volume (the ear-plugs are a meager buffer). Your head held in place so you don’t move. (Not that you could move anyway, there’s about ¼ inch between you and the pod wall). Finally, the noise stops. A voice crackles on the intercom, “you’re doing great. next one will take about six minutes” and then you’re off again, finding quiet and stillness in the peaks and rhythms of the incessant pounding. About 30 minutes in, they pull you out. Inject your arm with contrast. Insert you back in the machine. More churn. More pounding. And your mind thinks, let this be the last one. And it isn’t. You just want to go home.

portland/ny times

article this morning about the upcoming
bike boxes