I WAKE UP IN OREGON. AMAZINGLY, IT’S STILL FALL HERE. I HAVEN’T SEEN LEAVES IN A MONTH. WE HAVE COME A LONG WAY SOUTH FROM THE FROZEN SNOWS OF EDMONTON. A MAPLE TREE ON WILLAMETTE STREET IS FLAMING RED AND beyond it I can see a delightfully green poplar hanging on to its leaves, which are bright green against the darker forest of pines behind. It’s raining, and cars hiss past us along the busy street on which we are parked. Bizarrely my name is in lights outside my window. HULT CENTER, it says, DECEMBER 5TH, ERIC IDLE 7:30. It’s a mild day, threatening rain; but it doesn’t actually arrive till after the show, when it buckets it down.
I saw “Fuck Freud” chalked on the sidewalk in Seattle, proving that even the homeless in Seattle are intellectuals, but here in Eugene they are nicely dressed and very polite. Eugene is an altogether nice place. There are pedestrian-friendly shopping streets lined with art galleries, advertising an art walk. I find a Tibetan gift shop and splurge on Christmas presents. Since all the profits go to the Dalai Lama I feel morally okay. Nearby there is a very pleasant, well-ordered secondhand bookshop, where I find a fine copy of Liberace, by Liberace. This is too good to resist as a Christmas present. But for whom? On the phone my friend Jim asks me particularly not to give it to him. But what is the perfect present for a Crystal Palace supporter? Can I find a suitable book on masochism in time?
The incredible Hult Center is a breathtakingly beautiful theater with a basket-weave ceiling, scalloped tiers, and a deep, comfortable interior. It seats two thousand six hundred but I don’t think there are that many people in Eugene. We get a pretty good turnout. From the way some of our crowd are dressed I get the idea that there are teepees and tie-dye communities just outside the city. Even though they may be exhippies they are not tightfisted, because surprisingly Eugene beats the all-time record for the encore bucket with $162 donated. This is amazing when you think that the audience are not told it will be going to charity until afterward. They think they are donating this to me. So far we have collected more than $2,000 in the encore bucket as well as several pairs of panties, some bras, and a few cans of Spam. The money will go to a good cause, the Spam will be given to the homeless, and the panties? Well, perhaps I can find some suitable lap-dancing charity.
My wife was very forgiving of my appalling grumpiness yesterday. A good wife learns when not to listen. I call her to tell her about the Grammy, but Lily, who is sick and off school, tells me she has gone to an allergist. She has more doctors than a hospital. But she still looks great in a swimsuit.