A STARCHY SUBJECT

MATT AND ALL—Thank you for the wonderful piece in this last
week’s Merc [“Asleep on the Street,” Feature, Feb 21]! There
are, however, two things I wanted to mention. First, I am a community
organizer, not a homeless advocate. Secondly, and this may seem minor,
but I said “lots of people” not “most people” in this statement: “Where
most people fill homelessness with drugs or an alcohol addiction,
Nolen admits: ‘I ate.'” There are lots of people out there who, like
me, did not dabble in drugs or alcohol to kill the pain of being left
behind by society, but looked for other outlets. I was aided on my trip
to the overweight department by the fact that starches are so cheap and
are considered filler foods.

   Patrick Nolen

JUST ONE NIGHT

HELLO, MR. DAVIS—I just read your article, where you
accurately described the experience of a person sleeping downtown for a
night [“Asleep on the Street,” Feature, Feb 21]. You do good work
covering homeless issues. Volunteering is common with homeless people.
It might be nice if the Civic Action Group [Patrick] Nolen organizes
was explained and the campaign he is working on given a bit of press.
Thank you for reading this, and sorry about the lack of profanity.

Dan Newth

READING BETWEEN THE SIGNS

DEAR MERCURY—We at First Baptist Church of Portland
read with great interest Matt Davis’ article “Asleep on the Street”
[Feature, Feb 21], in particular noting the reference to the “No
loitering… police enforced” sign at our Taylor Avenue entrance. Just
this afternoon I am meeting once again with some neighbors who are
uncomfortable and resentful over all of the “street people” who come
and go from the church. Because every Monday and Thursday, 300 of our
neighbors from the streets and nearby low-income apartments are our
guests for a free lunch, served with silverware, tablecloths, fresh
flowers on the table, and live music. The offending sign allows us to
request the removal of folks on the rare occasions when they are
disorderly and dangerous, and serves to mollify some of our less
hospitable neighbors. But people on the streets know that they
have friends at First Baptist Church.

 Dr. David L. Wheeler, Senior Pastor   

MANIC JOYRIDE OF CUTENESS

DEAR MERCURY—I was disappointed to see that in today’s
issue Zac Pennington, normally one of your best writers, has offered up
an embarrassingly self-conscious and substandard review of the film
Charlie Bartlett [“Harold and Flawed,” Film, Feb 21]. The movie
isn’t bad at all, and I found Anton Yelchin’s performance one of the
more charming in recent memory—all the more so for lacking the
“teenage angst” that young Pennington sadly cherishes. At least our
oh-so-indie “I don’t do anything cute or spiritual” reviewer
recognizes, and admits, that he is “locked in perpetual adolescence.”
Also… I speak from personal experience when I say that the first time
you take Ritalin, if your brain is wired the right way, can be exactly
the manic joyride depicted in the film.

Anthony Acid

WE’LL HAVE WHAT HE’S HAVING

DEAR MERCURY—It was shocking to me, that in the
depths of a darkened city I would find the hip kids and painfully
frugal slipping on wristbands of glowing light in a deep cavern beneath
the city streets. The purpose was to take a stab at this little ball
that shimmered akin to glowing eye of an Orc. We were to do this
at the proper angle, at the proper time with the proper speed; and
we were to do this in a fashion that conveyed fun and excitement. In
the middle of the course there were sinking ships and people screaming
as the displays came to life spitting out useless witticisms and random
quotes from Russ Meyer movies. At the turn for hole eight I
proceeded to lose the last little bit of sanity left in the group and I
wandered around with my putter in hand exclaiming that things were not
as they seem. Somehow this seemed to impress the need for hurry in the
shimmering figures that slowly cornered me between the haunted porch
and the wall of flaming eyeballs. We emerged from the steps onto the
cool asphalt above, cradling the concrete like long-lost lovers. It was
Portland to be sure.

John Nyen

WOAH DUDE, TRIPPY. Hope the coming-down headache wasn’t so bad,
but you can console yourself with two tickets to the Laurelhurst
Theater and lunch at No Fish! Go Fish! where flaming eyeballs are a
delicacy.