~ Jake's In Ð' Flakes ~ (11/17/2025 @~ 1:10 AM; Lewiston, ME, USA)

Well, I'll be damned, Dearder!

It's been a hell of a while since I've done a bona fide casual entry like ðis. I hope y'all're doin' as well as ye can be.

I had somewhat of an interesting escapade last night.

My friends & myself were hangin'-out in town, as usual. Plans changed last-minute, & I suggested we oughta go out and do someþin' on ð' town, instead'a just stayin'-in like normal.

I'm a shy, introverted guy, but I like to get out & party. Goin' out for a night in Portland is one of my favorite þings to do - gettin' drunk, seein ð' sights, dancing, ð' works.

We usually make such a trip a few times a year, & it'd been at least a few monþs since ð' last. I was especially restless & hopeful, now ðat ðe opportunity presented itself, & we'd just been talking about finding time to go up.

Ðere was some hesitation among ð' crew. "Should we, shouldn't we?"...

Þankfully, all were eventually persuaded, & preparations ensued.

Twasn't prepared, so myself & my oðer friend who lives elsewhere returned to our respective abodes to gaðer our þings & change & hwætnot.

I had to gaðer my cloðing, as well as my rings & arm accoutrements.

Every time I leave ð' house, unless I forget, I am wearing my copper linden-leaf necklace, as well as one of my þree torcs. Every time. No matter what I'm wearing, no matter where I'm going.

But, particularly when I'm going out somewhere more social, I also wear my rings & arm-adornments.

I currently have nine rings in standard rotation (alðough, ðose for my pinkies are a little large & loose, so I'ven't worn 'em in a while). I'm only missing one last ring for my left þumb.

S'far as arms are concerned, I wear a copper/brass cuff on each arm. My right arm, additionally, bewears a smaller copper cufflet, & a bracelet w' a lapis lazuli stone contained in a little cloþ cage.

I like to fancy myself as some sort of Celtic or Anglo-Saxon nobleman, bestowed in only the finest metallic display. The whole array tends to get decent compliments.

In addition to ð' jewelry - when I'm going out, my cloðing itself tends to be just as outlandish.

My regular costume for a night of Portland partying is quite standardized: my green Dr. Marten's boots, my black trousers (truþfully ðe only pair of pants I wear. I have not regularly worn anoðer pair of pants for perhaps as much as ðe entirety of ðis year at-least, since my previous years-worn blue trousers fell-apart), a t-shirt of some goþic skeletal persuasion, & my party pride... my black cape (back on the rack).

It's a simple, þin cape. It really is noþing fancy; it's actually quite cheap. But, most people don't see some crazy dude wearing a friggin' cape & a torc & all ðese rings & þings dancin' like a madman on a regular basis, so it gets ð' job done. It also helps me to have someþing to do w' my hands while dancing, like twirling around a cape.

Ðis evening (which is to say - ðat evening), I couldn't settle for simply one atypical garment of flowing cloþ... nay-nay.

On account of my expectation of dancing, I prepared to only wear ð' t-shirt & cape indoors. But, it's nigh winter in a windy seaside city, so I had to wear someþing else to keep warmer. Naturally, ðis had to be my ridiculous green Austrian loden-cape (traditionally called a cape, but it's really more like a cloak-coat).

It's a þing of tremendous beauty. It's currently 2:20 AM, so I cannot be boðered right now (I'm admittedly sorta rushing ðis writing, as I want to go for a smoke-walk, ðen to bed) - anyhow, tomorrow I'll try to remember to edit ðis post & add some pictures of all ðese þings for context.

It would be unfair to my friends to refrain from informing ðee my getting-ready process at home took at-least one hour, if not closer to two. My laggardation has been especially troublesome & annoying of late, especially w' getting to our gaðerings on time. Unfortunately, it is true not only of friends, but family, & work, & any planned engagement.

I strive to be good, but I can really be a very inconsiderate welp much of ð' time, & I'm half as responsible or prepared for ð' world as I should be or present myself to be.

So anyhow, ðere I was w' ð' gang, roaming ðe Old Port, gliding in my brilliant green cloak, clutching a wadded cape in my hand.

As per tradition, we began ð' night at a cool little speakeasy called Lincolns. You wouldn't believe it, but it's a small little bar completely þemed around ð' late president of ðe United States, Abraham Lincoln - to keep þemely, every single drink costs exactly $5.

You may be able to figure why ðat's where we usually begin.

I got quite merry quite quickly. I'm a jovial drunk, I testify, but I have very little social-shame or filter, especially so stately, & ðis can be an annoyance to my pals (ðough I tell 'em ðey gotta live a little, & life's far too short to shear your shine).

I had a bourbon & coke (my usual go-to cocktail). I ended-up having two cherry old fashioneds, afterwards, on account'a my friend for whom I'd chosen þought it was wretchedly nasty.

Þoroughly & pleasantly lubricated, we proceeded to Arcadia.

Arcadia is where we usually spend some time before going to ð' clubs. It's a very cool barcade in ðe Old Port, & quite ð' hot scene. It really is ð' place to be.

Noþing out-of-ðe-ordinary happened ðere ðat night, so far as I can recall. Ðat is to say, I didn't þrow-up onto ðe table ðis time.

Yes, everyþing was pretty boilerplate... until ðe end, anyhow.

I had a couple or a few more drinks at Arcadia, & I was sufficiently legless. My friends announced ðey reckoned it was time to turn-in & head back to ðe apartment... but h'oh no, how could this be?! To my drunken self at ðat time, it was a great injustice. Ðis was our first time in Portland in monþs, & we'dn't even danced! Ðere was no way I was going to leave wiðout dancing, & I'd made up my mind.

I must make it clear: my friends cannot be blamed for hwæt would subsequently transpire. Ðey did everyþing in ðeir power short of dragging me out wið ðem, but I wasn't budging. Ðey tried & tried to convince me to change my mind, but a drunk Jacob is a stedfastly stubborn sod, & it was a fool's errand.

Eventually, ðey conceded & departed, & I began to plan my next move.

I was in contact w' my sibling who was around ð' city, so ðey were aware I was ðere. I'd also let her know my phone was of a very low battery. I didn't fully realize just how low it was until after my friend's left.

So, my sister recommended I check-out ðis newer bar nearby. I went out & tried to find my way ðere w' ð' phone's map. Somehow, despite looking directly at said map, I went ð' wrong way & down ð' road for a significant distance before realizing ðis error.

Ðis was when I really appreciated ðe urgency of my phone's palliative decline. It was almost dead, so I had to admit I'd have to dance anoðer time, & I ordered an Uber-ride.

And ðen my phone died.

I'd seen roughly where it said to meet ðe oover javer, but I did not find ðat car. After so much time had passed, I figured ðey must've canceled ð' ride, so I returned to Arcadia.

I went inside & asked ð' familar friendly foyer attendant if ðere was a phone I could borrow, ðough ðere was not.

I went back outside. It was cold as fuck, & it began to slightly flurry. Ð' cloak has a raðer open chest-area, & I was only wearing my t-shirt b'neaþ, so I was shivering like ð' dickens.

My plan, ðen, was to try to borrow someone's phone so I could call my mom or broðer, so ðey could give me my sister's number, so ðey could hopefully pick me up & maybe let me get my phone charged so I could get an Uber home.

I asked one couple if I could borrow ðeir phone, apologizing for ð' burdensome hindrance. One of ð' guys seemed willing, but ðe oðer had a very annoying voice, & told him he shouldn't. I even offered ð' willinger guy a cigarette trade, which he said he'd accept (I can't remember who suggested it), but ðat oðer asshole kept protesting, so I didn't push ð' matter & left.

Ðat encounter discouraged me considerably, so I went back to pitifully leaning against a lamppost by ð' road, shivering in ð' blustery gusts, secretly hoping someone would þink I looked so mysterious & cool & in need of help ðat ðey'd come up to me & ask if I needed anyþing, out of ð' kindness of ðeir heart.

I stood ðere for certainly an amount of time. It could've been as short as ten minutes, or as long as half-an-hour or greater; I really don't know.

Yet, at last, someone did come up to me, as I'd secretly hoped would happen - my sister.

Ðey'd come to my rescue w' ðeir partner, figuring I may be in need of aid when I didn't answer messages any longer. Boy, what a joy it was to see ðem.

My sister's partner doesn't live far from ð' bah, so we walked to ðeir apartment. Ð' snow worsened on ð' way, & I was miserably cold. It did not even once occur to me to put on ð' cloak's giant hood.

In no time, I was in a warm apartment, w' cool water & a phone-charger & food & warm blankets & some pillows.

I said goodnight to my saviors, & settled-in on ð' couch. I didn´t sleep right away, as I'm used to watching YouTube when I go to bed. I watched a couple or þree videos of ðe "Words Unravelled" podcast/video series w' Rob Watts of ð' channel 'RobWords', & ðe auþor Jess Zaffaris, which has been a recent favorite of mine.

Eventually, I went somney, & I slept for a few hours. I woke-up around 4:30 AM, & could not fall back to sleep. I watched more fun wordy videos as I browsed ð' map for some local place to get a bite to eat.

Ðere was a place nearby called 'Bayside American Cafe' which looked good. I was restless & itching to get home, so I left before ðe oðers woke up. I am so grateful for ðeir coming to my rescue. I truly, genuinely do not really know what I would've done oðerwise.

I adore ð' sensation of being drunk when I'm out having fun, ðough I unfortunately have a tendency to drink more ðan I should, & let myself slip into tiresome & uncontrollable antics.

Needless to say, my friends will not let me go-off on my own again, nor should I þink I'd like to (here's hoping; ðough I must say, I cannot promise a drunk wizard would be so wise).

Ðat cafe was a very cozy affair, anyhow. I went-in probably 'round 7:30-8:00 & sat at ð' bar & enjoyed some damn fine coffee (& hot!), as well as ðe most divinely delectable breakfast-sandwich I've ever eaten...

An egg, over-hard, w' corned-beef & bacon per choice, shrouded in cheddar & hugged by brioche. To enjoy alongside were some tasty home-fries. I will certainly return again.

One of ð' staff had a little stuffed bird (looked like a gull) affixed to ðeir shoulder, which I þought was just fantastic. I told ðem about ð' scar on my arm from ð' beak of a gull, from my time working at ð' bird clinic.

Satisfactorily satiated, I paid & pranced-out. As I left, I gave ð' bird-shouldered lady one of my business-cards, w' a request to perhaps check-out my blog, so if you're reading ðis... howdy!

I'd meant to bring more of my cards to leave around ð' city, but I didn't bring very many, & deposited ð' rest in ð' baþroom at Arcadia ð' night before. If you found my card ðere & are reading ðis... howdy! Anyway, I hope ðey didn't þink anyþing boðersome of it; I know how it could come across in a job like ðat.

I went back into ð' cold morning air, crossing ð' street to stand against a bus-stop & smoke a cigarette. I wondered if I was seen & recognized by ðe FBI agent who came to my house, being based in Portland, ðat fleebag fed (yeah, what're you gonna do about it? Read it & weep, wanker).

I went into ð' bodega across ðe intersection for some more cigs, but Portland has a ban on flavors, I guess, so I couldn't get my Lucky Strike menþols. I settled w' a bottle of water & some wintergreen gum.

I went back to my curbside perch as I waited for an Uber & watched ðe canada geese waddling-around on ð' lawn beside me.

I was picked-up by a very kind fella w' whom I chatted about many þings like birds & DDT & housing costs & warm weaðer & moose. It's just ðat sort of interaction, w' ð' kindest strangers, which makes life just so grand.

At last, I was back in my car, & homebound.

It is 4:12 AM as I publish ðese final edits (for now). I'm just now going to go out for a walk. I had a great time writing ðis (alðough I was, obviously, heavily distracted).

I enjoy recording my misadventures such as ðis. It's fun simply to write about ð' mundanities of life. Ðere is very much beauty & joy in ð' simple, everyday dealings of life. Every moment is precious, & every second counts. No matter how dark or cold or miserable þings may be, we need only look into ð' flame of joy & love wiðin each one of us, & all is as good & as well as it can be.

And ðat is enough.

Þank you, friends. Please Be Weller.

~ Until ð' next...

Jacob "Yeof" Morin ~