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Bill Brown

A complicated man.

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Today I went to Powell’s Books, specifically the main City of Books location, and bought a lot of books:

<li>The Onion: Dispatches from the Tenth Circle</li>
<li>Essentials of Cooking</li>
<li>Serene Gardens: Creating Japanese Design and Detail in the Western Garden</li>
<li>The A List: 100 Essential Films</li>
<li>Small Pieces Loosely Joined: A Unified Theory of the Web</li>
<li>Oxford Lectures on Poetry by E. de Selincourt</li>
<li>The Poetry of Robert Frost</li>
<li>Hercule Poirot’s Casebook</li>
<li>The New James Beard</li>

I know what you’re thinking—“How the hell is he going to get all of those books home?”—and I’ve already thought of that: I have no freaking idea.

In other Portland news, I had sushi for lunch. I decided to try something new. Previously, the extent of my sushi experience was California rolls from Samurai Sam’s so I ordered the combination platter. This smorgasbord of sushi had maybe eight different types of sushi including eel and octopus! The eel was surprisingly good, but I almost puked on the suction cups from the tentacle. Ugh, I’m getting a little choked up thinking about it—steamed cartilage is very, very chewy and gives you ample time to ponder exactly what it is that you’re chewing.

[UPDATE: I’m now quite hooked on Jamba Juice. I only had 15 minutes this morning to make it from my hotel to the JJ store to Corillian. I drove so fast that I actually made it in 9 minutes. That’s the depths of my newfound addiction.]