Christopher Walsh made Portland his home after a Navy Brat childhood, a U of O stint, and three years as a writer-reporter in Northeast Oregon’s semi-desert. He’s worked a bunch of jobs and written not enough words about music, movies, and whether Rob Zombie is really Denis Leary in a fright wig. He may sometimes swear in these pieces, but feels profanity is really ****ing overrated. Stalkers may follow his life at http://chris-walsh.livejournal.comLater Edit:There, that's the version (without the struck-out portion) that I'll send., where he sounds off with personal stuff, geeky references and media musings.
Me, Bio-ized
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For the last day of 2024:
I’ve been good at this. I’ve blogged for 20 years: longer than my time from preschool to senior year of college, longer by far than any one job I’ve…
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Sitting
I spend a lot of my job standing. Stand and wait for PDX Valet customers to pull up in their cars, stand as I get their info, walk around…
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Somehow, Twenty Years
September 22, 2004. I don’t remember how the weather was that day. I don’t remember my mood, how the day had gone, what I was reading, but I did a…
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