Beaver State Dispatches


Oregon Neverland

by SAS

Oregon. San Francisco North, they say. The Beaver state. But more on that later.

Here is green and Mother Earth. The streets are hemmed in by cherry trees that have been grafted to bloom pink and white flowers in the spring. And a city, it has to be, I thought when I first came here from Montana, it has a 24-hour Walmart after all; the nearest one is over an hour’s drive away from where I’m from.

Beauty, and a little more. Savagery, too. That’s Eugene, music, an unusual obsession with facial hair (male), and an underbelly to match any modern age Metropolis (and no, not the Metropolis from Superman, think a little further back).

Of course, the upper class here mostly consider themselves liberal (and they aren’t wrong). It makes me wonder, if the flower children of the 60’s and 70’s poured concrete over their gardens and own the futures of their children’s signatures in stocks and bonds, if ambition drove them to put away childish things (and body paint), and to accept the will of their fathers, who are these people here with their drum circles and city official jobs smoking spliffs at the steps of the city hall. Is it possible to have classes here but no warfare? Where are we?

Here there be gypsies. Here is Neverland, where some adults never grew up, and those that lose their marbles are sent to roam free since the state’s mental facilities shut down. Here steampunks play shows on street corners, hugging accordions in knee-high red leather docks while boasting daunting melodies. Here are lost boys drawn to wanderlust, vagrancy trends, the nomadic, bartering, bicycling, dirty, honest work and dishonest.

It’s the past, the futuristic, the forgotten, the involved, and, somehow the retrograde and evolved at once. It’s Oregon, and it is my home. I’d love to show you around.

Look for more installations to come from me, S.A.S.; behind-the-scenes with strippers, interviews from fast and furious novelists, what tweakers do when they think Santa Claus isn’t looking, the thoughtful and obscene, the artistic, and current events to come.


Entering Portland by car.
Entering Portland by car.
"Nowhere beach Oregon, with my dog Roxie." ~SAS
“Nowhere beach Oregon, with my dog Roxie.” ~SAS
Beaver State Dispatches
Beaver State Dispatches

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