DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL

dance class gets more difficult starting in the spring because of the heat, but not necessarily because the studio is any hotter -- the jungle swelter that builds up in front of the mirrors during class is a year round phenomenon -- but because i always dance next to the windows at the southwest side of the room. on days like yesterday, when the windows are open because the day has been hot but the air has already started to cool by the time class begins, the temperature at the windows is probably cooler than at any other spot in the studio, especially once people start pushing their feet toward full tilt.

but the windows face across twelfth avenue from where solo flamenco is located on southeast division street, and next to the taquería there is a beer bar called apex. i've only been once, and that visit was short, ended when the bartender told me that the bar was cash only and i realized that i couldn't use the atm because i'd lost my debit card, which i immediately left to find. somehow, i made it across town on my bicycle to check the balance of my account on my home computer and call each one of the stores i'd been to that day and then rode back to twelfth and division in the hour i had before the performance at the studio started.

class at the studio gets more difficult as the weather gets warmer because apex has so much outside seating. it also has parking for dozens of bikes, and when the sun comes out the tables on the apex patio are full with interesting haircuts in less and less clothing as the season pushes toward full tilt. i didn't even attempt the series of vueltas in the first half of the farruca yesterday, instead just taking note of the guitar and walking toward the windows to stare. the same thing every time i confused the footwork before the second llamada. i benefited from having practiced the farruca choreography over the weekend. not so with the soleá in hour two. the class marked, and i stared. there were a few exceptional ones. facebook thinks that the busser and i should be friends.

"I'm going to talk about something weird that I do." that's how patrick dewitt, who is guest blogging at powells.com this week started his post for today. i don't think that staring at pretty things when my mind should be on the instruction that i'm paying for is weird. juvenile maybe, but nothing like what dewitt talks about in his post. this post is about bars that i don't go to. one of them is apex, and another one is the bar where i second met patrick dewitt.

dewitt's first novel, ablutions, is about an alcoholic. that alcoholic has dreams, and he lives in los angeles, a city where people with dreams go to think about them while they serve drinks at bars like the one where the protagonist of ablutions works. the novel is gritty and urgent and painfully hopeful. while i was having my copy of ablutions signed at a reading a couple of years ago, i asked dewitt where he liked to drink in portland. i can't remember if he told me whether or not he drank, but he told me that he liked to take his family to the liberty glass (it's also a restaurant), which is where i said hello to him and his family not long after the reading when i recognized the author there one night.

a couple of years ago the liberty glass was not so close to my house as now that i've moved to north missouri and fremont streets, just a few blocks away from where the bar is on cook. the patio at the liberty glass is not so large as the one at apex, but it's just as full when the weather is nice (and also, actually, when it's not, because the patio at the liberty glass is covered and has a wood stove). but now it's just looking at the liberty glass, too. we don't go there anymore. not dewitt, i think he's fine, but i have no way of saying whether he's been there lately. maybe the patio is a minefield for him too (seven, and all of them deadly). but he's probably able to brave it, what with the confidence of having recently released another book.

the sisters brothers is about old west grit and hired guns. good for nothings and cheaters. i'll recommend it to caroline. i'll read it too, but she's much more gracious with americana than i am. plus, she's a good for nothing cheat. and a gun for hire if you're really in a bind. she likes the liberty glass. in fact, she introduced us. now she's in the wives club. she can do whatever she wants there, so i'll ask her to tell dewitt what i thought of his book. she should invite him to the inaugural bloc cascadian national convention as well. we can find someone to watch his kid while he's in port angeles. i know that i can forgive him having once been a californian for knowing that he was born in british columbia. with me? this summer's going to be hot.