If I had a nickel for every time I’ve asked myself, “Goodness, Bryan, couldn’t you just live in a bookstore,” I’d finally be able to afford that immersion therapy to get over my fear of nickels.

Well, I am pleased to announce that this is no longer a hypothetical musing. What started as a surprise weekend trip to Portland, Oregon has turned into (surprise!) a bid to establish residency inside Powell’s, the legendary independent bookstore. There it is, right down there.

And there I am, just prior to never leaving the store again.

Now, don’t worry about me, I’ve got all my basic needs covered.

And for the times I start to lose faith in my mission, a little inspiration….

And just an FYI, I always brush between meals.

Okay, well, wish me luck! According to Oregon law I only have 364 more days before I’m declared a legal resident of the store. I also could be making that up completely.

No joke, though, I am bushed after all that eating! Guess I’ll bed down right here in the Pearl Room. Good night for now.

Ed. Note: Feel free to send cards, pleas for reason, and bail money to Powell’s City of Books, Attn: Guy Doing His Best To Keep Portland Weird, Blue Room, 1005 W. Burnside St., Portland, OR 97209.