Deep in Leonardo da Vinci's Codex is the sketch of a siege machine. Pedal-powered by a dozen warriors, seeing this monster isn't the true terror - it's the screams. Joshua's horns fell Jericho yet the drunken beast that encircles Bend daily may topple High Desert society. Neighbors cringe and traffic crawls, add mescaline and a cart of chickens and the inevitable accident will defy description. Leonardo labeled his invention "Rolling Shit Show" (loosely translated) but even he couldn't foresee how mixing booze and altitude enables extremes.
Welcome back to Bend. Gray hairs more bitter, Bachman and Paul, sniper rifles selling well at pawn shops. Why do the panhandlers seem younger and pudgier; where did all of the geese go? And the white squatters' house with the lava foundation behind the library, wasn't that why we have a historic district? Oh how this urban verb purges after another economic bust!
A friend has been laid-off since 2006 then smiles and says he's laying pipe again. She's blonde and the project big, water being relocated to reward fish. A recent arrival hired a novice carpenter for a job that took far too long when passing the Westside Tavern with a 6-pack of PBR in tow would have been quicker.
You have exotic organisms and spores out here, I miss them much. A rambling circus, more bars and another brewery, cirrhosis, my buddy builds prosthetic legs not for athletes but diabetics. Aliens are observing strange creatures climbing Smith Rock, asking where our technological advances went.
Congress: we had Weiner, you Wu. Is Sam Adams still dating Breedlove? When is the man-mom having another baby? This town is still underserved by media, a broken daily and dull weekly. This town needs more smut, a serial killer in Sisters, birthdays tattooed on bikinis. Don't drink from the Deschutes after Mirror Pond. I crashed my bike in that tunnel over Franklin. She's engaged, again, the other chubbier. Aching wrist exempted, you have a real swell town here.