~ 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, dancin'... ð' works.

We usually make such a trip a few times a year, & it'd been at least a few monþs since we'd 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 & oðer 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 lineup (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/bronze/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, Anglo-Saxon, Norse, or Scythian 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 dark-green Doc Martens, 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 ð' 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 wearin' 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 twirlin'-around a cape like a bird of paradise mating-dance.

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 preparation 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, cramped bar completely þemed around ð' late president of ðe United States of America, 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 oughta 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 ð' 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 ðis 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 very low battery. I didn't fully realize just how low it was until after my friends 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 my error.

Ðat 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 ever find ðat damned 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' familiar 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 flurry fleeting. Ð' cloak has a raðer open breast, & 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. Myself & ð' willinger guy even discussed a cigarette-trade, which he said he'd accept (I can't remember which of us 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 blessed 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 sorta 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 gigantic hood.

In notime, 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 grab 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 ð' 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 sorta 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 smoke. 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 ðose simple, everyday dealings.

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 ~