La Sirenita vs. La Bonita

La Sirenita and La Bonita are both Taquerias on the 2800 block of Alberta Street in Portland. Only an alleyway and a seemingly abandoned home separates them, but they are a world a part. Bottom line: there are La Sirenita people and there are La Bonita people. I am of the former.



La Sirenita is a run-down stucco place with a withering awning and graffiti tags all over it. There are colorful plastic tables to sit on outdoors. Inside is dark and haphazard with a television usually playing Mexican music videos (always with scantily clad women) in a corner. Mexican pop music blares from out of the kitchen. The walls are covered in cobwebs and plastic faux brick. Next to the counter is a big orange jug like something you’d see in a construction zone to pour yourself water from, if the Styrofoam cups have been stocked. The tables are not regularly bussed or cleaned, but most are stocked with a roll of paper towels. The employees are often singing, flirting or otherwise goofing around and you sometimes have to wait awhile for them to appear or decide to ask you what you want. I almost always want the no pales burrito. It is, in my opinion, possibly the greatest lunch ever invented, even though its quality varies widely depending upon who’s working that day. (For this reason, I don’t recommend La Sirenita on weekends.) For $3.50, you get a huge log consisting of piping hot cactus, rice, cheese and refried beans wrapped in a flour tortilla. They have a condiment bar with awesome grilled jalapenos. Their red sauce is okay but a bit too smoky for my taste. UPDATE: They sometimes have a second red sauce now which is much better. I seldom resist biting into the burrito before it cools down, so I usually end up burning the skin out of my mouth. Well worth it. I usually alternate between burrito and jalapeno bites. Yes, the jalapenos are spicy. (Why do people ask this?)



La Bonita is a much newer looking place, nicely painted (if you like mauve) with large windows and clean wood tables. Inside is mood lit with hanging emerald-colored lampshades, and waiters seat you and bring you menus as Rod Stewart serenades from above. I went there once, on a recommendation from a chef (at another restaurant) who said it was, “very clean.” Fortunately, cleanliness is not on my list of things desired in a taqueria. I ordered the veggie burrito, which had lettuce, broccoli, carrots and a bunch of other crap that doesn’t belong in a burrito. It also had black beans, which I sometimes like but don’t expect to see unless I ask for them specifically. It was like a cooked salad wrapped in a tortilla. Booooooring! The “gringo burrito” was over $5.00. It was about half the size as the burrito two doors down. I find myself wary of anyone who patronizes this establishment, and assume they are the same type of people who sit in coffee shops working on laptops. I don’t trust those people either.

Go Home

Well let me tell you if you’re feeling alone
Instead of whining and moaning
Just get on the phone, tell her you’re coming home
If you need her, you should be there
If you scream in your sleep, or collapse in a heap
And spontaneously weep, then you know you’re in deep
If you need her, you should be there
Go home

There’s nothing better than affairs of the heart
To make you feel so good then tear you apart
Make up your mind and stick it out or start again

You can’t imagine what an effort it takes
When you make a mistake
And you know in the wake that her heart’s going to break
If you need her, you should be there
If you’re flummoxed and flushed
And your heartbeat is rushed
Then get out of the slush, tell your dog team to mush
If you need her, you should be there
Go home

If you think of her as Joan of Arc
She’s burning for you, get your car out of park
If you think of her as Catherine the Great
Then you should be the horse to help her meet her fate
If you need her, you should be there
Go home

You can’t believe it, but it’s true
She’s given everything to you
Now take a moment to be sure
Before you give it all to her

Well now you’re thinking that its over at last
All your woes in the past
But you’ve got to be fast; put your foot on the gas
If you need her, you should be there
So now you’re out from under the gun
And its over and done
I won’t spoil all the fun but if you ever wonder
She’ll be there if you need her
Go home

If you’re lucky to be one of the few
To find somebody who can tolerate you
Then I shouldn’t have to tell you again
Just pack your bags and get yourself on a plane
If you need her, you should be there
Go home
If you need her, you should be there
Go home

- Steven Page and Ed Robertson

Song Lyrics

Some of you may be wondering why I've been posting a lot of song lyrics. The answer is easy: 1) I'm too lazy to write original blog entries right now; 2) I sometimes find myself listening to music that seems to be EXACTLY where I am at when I hear it.

I had a friend in college who was paranoid that the radio was sending him messages. "That's the beauty of music," I'd explain. The greatest art, by its very nature of expression limited by senses, allows us to feel connected to others. This connection is simultaneously profound and illusory. An example I like to use is all those who claim to relate to Holden Caulfield from The Catcher in the Rye even though NOBODY has ever acted anything like that character in the history of humankind.

Combining poetry with music is a sublimely potent means of communication. Despite all the song lyrics I have included in my blog, I have rejected others with ONE word that I couldn't precisely relate to. The lyrics I post are intended to relay to my (imaginary) audience where I am at that moment. I have even gone through my own past posts to try to recall how I was feeling at a particular time, found some lyrics I’d posted and listened to that song. It makes for effective memory triggering.

Now you know, and knowing is half the battle. G.I. JOE!

I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)

When I wake up, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next you
When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you
If I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you
And if I haver, yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door

When I'm working, yes I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's working hard for you
And when the money comes in for the work I do
I'll pass almost every penny on to you
When I come home (when I come home), well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you
And if I grow old, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door

da dada da (da dada da)
da dada da (da dada da)

Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Ah Da Da

da dada da (da dada da)
da dada da (da dada da)

Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Ah Da Da

When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you
And when I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream
I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you
When I go out (when I go out), well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you
And when I come home (when I come home), yes I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you
I'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door

da dada da (da dada da)
da dada da (da dada da)

Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Ah Da Da

da dada da (da dada da)
da dada da (da dada da)

Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Ah Da Da

da dada da (da dada da)
da dada da (da dada da)

Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Ah Da Da

da dada da (da dada da)
da dada da (da dada da)

Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Ah Da Da

And I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles
To fall down at your door

-The Proclaimers

p.s. Haver means to talk nonsense.

Camping Journal V

If we had an M-50 mounted on top of this car we could camp wherever the fuck we wanted.

Just throw it in that crack right there.
That’s what she said.

Well, this is fucking Maupin!

That bird is its own rap group.

Careful of that jewelry box; we don’t know what she considers jewelry- a partially polished turd…

Hopefully she wasn’t expecting any privacy with her friend that’s coming to visit tonight.

I walked in and thought, “That’s weird the front door’s unlocked,” and then some dude said, “Hi!”

Wow, more players than we knew.

I was trying to keep my hair out of my chewing. It was only partially successful. I’m gonna cough up a hairball tomorrow morning.

What? She’s making a cemetery?

Usually you want your gutters to be more horizontal.

We have contact with Dick.
I love having contact with Dick.

Good thing about Maupin: You’re never more than 50 feet from someone who will let you camp in their backyard.

Oregon: Thank god it’s beautiful because otherwise it’s worthless.

His parents were like, “There was this penguin that’s been every place and seen some things so they bring it from the trestles with a life jacket on and a helmet over its head and some cop cut it open and filled its boat with stuffing."

It was horrible- he had trucks and toilets back here.

Hopefully it’s a lot worse in the Enchantments.

I just want to cradle you for not being a knucklehead.

You're unusually agreeing, Andrew.
I'm sadly black man from the what?

There’s nothing pretty or interesting but this is getting pretty dull.

I was writing in the dark with a belly full of whisky, and things got illegible. Amazingly, I managed to decipher all but one line, which I have included in its original form. Let me know if you can figure it out!



I don’t know what else there is to do in Wasco County.

Either you gotta do this every day or never do it again.

The ‘bow was… retarded.

What were you guys talking about when I was in the tent and your reply was, “We’ll have to take a little spin.”?

Two dudes and a patrol boat spent five minutes with me for nothing.

Daddy Jeremy, buy us a cheese pizza!

I don’t want to be on a douche bag raft though.
Well then we can’t be on a raft with Andrew.

Dick is all about beer and ladies.

We’ll give it the old college fraternity try.

I think this campground’s full of tools.

Pay to listen to butt rock?

Dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick

Dick fishes in Blue Hole.

Your mom isn’t sealed.
She is broken.
I can’t hear you. Actually I can but I’m just not listening.

Step 1: Shave the patient.
Step 2: Make the boobs hang out.

Outhouse backsplash- worst thing ever.

That was tots awesome!

He’s a pentapus.
That just sounds pornographic.

His shirt is tucked into his crack.
That just made my whole trip.

Oh Jake you have the midget chair.
It’s the righteous chair.
Does this chair make me look fat?

I see my name. Is that the scorekeeping sheet? I thought you were writing something nasty about me.

I thought I heard my name.
I heard “gay.”
Yeah, that’s me.

Where’d you go, toonsins?

I lost my green nipple and everything.

I love coming from behind.
Oh now you just turned it dirty.

I want to capture the moment: Before 6 nieces. After 6 nieces.

“I felt like I was literally sitting on God’s front porch.”

Thanks for backing me up on that stupid ass statement.

That’s a little too close-up. I don’t want to see it that close.

All you have to do is roll the dice and lose to Sandy.

I’m going to keep saying, “Daddy Jeremy buy me a cheese pizza” until he actually does.
It would be easier to chop your head off with my hatchet.
I was gonna offer to buy you one to shut you up but if he’s willing to chop your head off even better.

You’ve been taking your cues from under the Burnside Bridge.

RIGHTEOUS DUDE BRAH

I’ve got the power of the drifter now.

WHOA!

Chips go well with chili.
That’s true, but it’s dangerous on your jeans.

This parking lot is going to be nothing but chock full of reggae blaring cars.

I’m not a cracker connoisseur or anything but these are the greatest crackers of all time.

I’ll show you squeak, motherfucker.
Promise?

Those are the fat-girl-come-get-me pants.

We’ll flip for heads and tails.

I don’t know how you ever stopped at 800. That’s very un-Jake like.

I think the little fucker’s fucking with us. You being the other fucker.

That’s your excuse for everything.
It’s Maupin.

S’s are for aretards.

We’re almost there with the chili.
I’ve heard that before.

Andrew hearts death.

Ha you douched your pants.

Chip lifeguard- I need you.

There’s something hard in there.

Who won? Andrew? Damn it!
I like it when nice people win.

Why does Andrew do any of the things that he does?

I don’t want a chip in my crotch, thanks.
Beavers like chips too.

The sky’s really ugly right now.

I should stop with this chili.
That’s what Sandy’s thinking.

I see your lover’s intestines and I raise you one chip with four beans on it.

Hey Jeremy, where’s your tool?

I see a flying head.
No that’s just me.

That helps my loser ass.
Yeah it does.

I have so many fucking layers on right now.

We don’t mind if you puke on Jake.

You and God can go homo out together.
You’re complimenting God.
Right now, he wishes he was gay.

Wow that was worth the 18 ounces of gas.
Not to mention the gallon of gas it took to get Andrew’s flashlight here.
Your ass is gonna make a nice cap for your light.

I don’t know I was just trying to figure out whether I was looking at the sun or Andrew’s flashlight.

Everything in my hand and this one is not in my hand.

I am like patience encapsulated.
What is it a one-ounce vial?
I was being generous.

I am going to go write in my journal.
Do not invite Andrew camping ever.

Star gazing cancelled due to douche bag friend.

Until it’s waterlogged, duct-taped to your body on the bottom of the Deschutes.

I think Andrew’s just taking superfluous rolls now.

I was looking for squealing nieces. What’s wrong with that?

All I heard was split in three and your mom.
What else did you need to hear?

Your mom’s a mess after last night.

I love the sound of a generator first thing in the morning.

Should I go get a newspaper? ‘Cause you look like you could use one.

You might find kicking Sandy to be much more satisfying. Just an observation.

You lost your balls now that you’re sober?

They don’t say much when they’re unconscious.
You don’t police your mouth very well.

How many beers have you had?
Two.
You are an embarrassment to Maupin.

I could douche.
You could douche?
It’s French for shower.
Vagina shower!

The Patient

A groan of tedium escapes me
Startling the fearful
Is this a test?
It has to be
Otherwise I can’t go on
Draining patience, drain vitality
This paranoid, paralyzed vampire act's a little old

But I’m still right here
Giving blood, keeping faith
And I’m still right here

But I’m still right here
Giving blood, keeping faith
And I’m still right here

Wait it out
Gonna wait it out
Wait it out

If there were no rewards to reap
No embrace to see me through
This tedious path I’ve chosen here
I certainly would’ve walked away by now

Gonna wait it out

If there were no desire to heal
The damaged and broken met along
This tedious path I’ve chosen here
I certainly would’ve walked away by now

And I still may (sigh)
And I still may

Be patient
Be patient
Be patient

I must keep reminding myself of this
I must keep reminding myself of this
I must keep reminding myself of this
I MUST KEEP REMINDING MYSELF OF THIS

If there were no rewards to reap
No embrace to see me through
This tedious path I’ve chosen here
I certainly would’ve walked away by now

And I still may
And I still may
And I still may
And I am…

Gonna wait it out
Gonna wait it out
Wait it out
Gonna wait it out

-Tool