El unificationo de ill-peppered Bacon Landscape attending IP5 on February 19, deriving testament amid situation and freedom, it’s a bonus upon us. Running on fumes, the fetid race snapside etiologies, gratitude torpedoes the wide red distance. The highest of fives for the highest of the Five to the fabulous and Orwellian (not the pejorative) Legion of Tech (“yes, it’s a techie event”) from Splice Finders, the team at Broken Hour d’Ouevres and all our handfuls of followers on Twitter, ExtraTicket, FreshFriend, HungerMeat, OverShoulder, Underarm Laptop and BeerLines.
Whatever did it matter to these long queues tonight? Portland is the strongest gestureau, “we” love it here, we “love” here and we’re used to sitting patiently waiting for the file transfer of our affection to proto call. Dangling our participles out the bus window isn’t our scene but much was learned about fonts, the Universe and everything, and the sustainable memories collide with general ideas up there, down there, it’s sweet and beloved all the same, both ends of the Sterno burning ever brighter, they have to have your name, the ship is waiting to take you away. Try it some time. The next Ignite Portland (6) is already scheduled for July 16, 2009, again at the jewel on the jerrrymand, the illustrious Bagdad Theater. It’s really comfortable after all and no work is involved, everything will be fine.
Podcast: Play in new window
Jan and Dan
With the world crashing down because of the outgoing administration, the dog needing to go outside, and Jan needing stainless steel screws or nuts, we wrap up our visit with Linnton Feed and Seed’s Dan Cadmus.
We try to make sense of mercenaries, the Coen brothers and shipping potatoes to Peru, and we discuss urban farming as well as how much hasn’t changed in North Carolina. Thank you to Jan for holding down the store throughout our lengthy interview, and thank you Dan, not only for your time but also for being in our time.
(This podcast is no longer available)
He’s opinionated, he embraced podcasting from the get-go, and I can see his house from my back door, so this may not be the last time you hear Alex Williams on BLBH. An hyper-active member of Portland’s tech community, as of this blogging he has 1,362 followers on Twitter and he just started his songwriting carreer. Baron Landscape sits near Alex’ feet (soon to be shod with mpeg-playing slippers) and floats softballs about Podcast Hotel and starving artists, RSS and open source, the thrill of being in Portland today and the agony of moving trees in his yard. In this ambling and entertaining conversation, pausing only at the 28-minute mark to roll out his FDR-folk opus “Hey, Mr. Bankerman,” Alex endorses Android and subjective journalism, and foresees promise in Obama and the new generation.
Oh and here’s a link to that Marriage Records XLR8R podcast that’s referenced.
(This podcast is not currently available)
Based on an art deco danceteria of obfuscation and forced labor. Wherefore thou, Art? Seedless to psycho and back again, the Broken Will of the People, rudimentary in its ornateness and perfect as a puzzle, make tired your listening eyes and the fumes corrupt the double- and triple-negative irony so forth and interpretively. Or adjustments to the center, for several cycles, without food or water for days, harvested for posterity and dedicated to the opposition of a more imperfect disunion. Music by Broken Hours. Podcast produced by Splice Finders.
One summer I stood up and got off on the back patio licking my family. It disappeared, white light and cross-like. Some sort of red cross out of the boonies, which is basically what it was. Many old tapes are reviewed in search of the lost aircheck that reminds Baron Landscab and the Broken Festerlings how little has changed. Multiple roles are considered, and some are rejected. The studio, falling apart, intends in all of its sincere activities. How much funds are a great contribution to finances. Not only do you understand, but there is also an implied commitment. As opposed to someplace where there might be a lot of competition involved. One, perhaps two burn marks on one’s thighs. Some seminar or something? It seemed so much like a dream, but there are actual physical manifestations. You didn’t happen to be eighteen inches tall, humanoid-type shaped, greenish or whitish? Regular head on your body, just poking around people’s inner thighs? Most contactees experience tell-tale symptoms. You might be supressing it because it was such an odd thing to happen.
(This podcast is not currently available)