i think i understand my own mindless doodles finally

Skylines. at night. holy shit. i think i will treat myself to the Bob Mould show next month. So there.

Hometown ghosts

Spending the day (monday, actually which i was called off on so i could work this weekend instead) wandering the city does not suck. Got business stuff done and made some staple purchases, coffee beans, a book, and the like. Sipping coffee outside a cafe is like Paris except I can unfortunately understand the pointless gossip of those around me. Have lost more of my own physical bulk as well, though still above fighting weight, but returning to regular walking is clearly making a big difference. Met Smitty for happy hour beer later in the afternoon, touching base with K2, Charles etc in the interim. Happy to not be a hermit. I like walking. I like living alone. I like not worrying about if someone loves me - knowing that people care: better. SG is off in the mountains for another week, his yearly trek with his father recharging and flyfishing. He called yesterday to say hi from a place he finally got cell service (though the whole goal is to be outside of those areas to begin with) but it was nice to hear his voice.

Oh. And there was this weird thing, when i ambled through Pike Place Market the other day, and arrived at Myrtle Edwards park (just past the craft shit) I turned and walked to cross the street and I swear to the mother of KevSecs that Shay, or a reasonable facsimile of him 10 years down the line was sitting dead center in front of me on the back of a bench. Had sunglasses on, staring right at me, no expression at all. The uh, "stoic" one. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that my heart skipped a beat, and not in a happy "OOOH! YAY!" way, but in a "Holy. Shit." sort of way. Which is to say, exactly like the last time I ran into him on the way to work at Repro, and I was freshly married and living sober (hrm, sobriety doesn't always lend itself to clarity, one realizes on reflection, but I digress). That was a weird conversation then, and I had passed him on the street a week earlier before we actually came face to face and spoke that time.
Yes, yes, it's the Market; it could have been any number of Native Guys of a certain vintage, with sunglasses on, wearing the same cargo shorts. With that exact hair, and that exact build. I did 3 double takes, willed shit to evolve, and nothing happened, so I'm gonna assume it was, literally, a ghost, because the fourth time I swung my eyes around he had vanished, much as he often did, in that typical damn raven-y way that also ends up with sage appearing in my mailbox....and (holy shit!) flowers on doorsteps (two days in a row there were roses in the entry way of the building I live in, not on stems, but the whole flowers, set in a row on the front window ledge. First bright crimson ones and the second time a row of yellow ones); but I sat there for a half an hour just staring at the Elliot Bay, watching, listening, and feeling. It was good to have my cage rattled a little. Complacency breeds stupidity and self loathing for me, so to be engaged in the world seems to do wonders - newsflash!
Weird, and yet, exactly why I moved back. I have so much more ease in my being, trying to figure out new ways to look at old problems, wondering what might be possible. I am who I am. Before I have been scared, intimidated, sure no one would "get" me. Even recently, I let the lessons learned in Fresno fade, and it bit me in the ass. Clearly, growth is the preferred direction for me. Sometimes I grow slowly, and sometimes it's lightning fast. The rollercoaster analogy has never been more appropriate.
Now: I get me. You get what you get.

I broke down and gave into a craving for scones yesterday - we had fresh huckleberries in the house so I used those - they turned out amazing - like turbo blueberry scones. Everyone went crazy for them, which is always funny to me, as I thought the texture was a bit off - they were more like Suze's than mine - which would make sense as I used her technique for the first time, actually hand-incorporating the dairy into the mix and then the fruit rather than just using the mixer.
Anyway. They taste really great this morning with coffee & a clear blue sky out my window, all I need is a feral cat to swing by and growl plaintively....

sunday political commentary

IF YOU THINK DRIVING TO A MEDIOCRE CHICKEN SANDWICH JOINT AND PAYING MONEY TO SHOVE FRIED BULLSHIT INTO YOUR HATE HOLE IS THE BEST WAY TO ESPOUSE THE CHRISTIAN VALUES YOU CLAIM TO ADHERE TO THEN I HOPE YOU GET THE MILLIONAIRE MORMON PRESIDENT YOU DESERVE.

(via animalstalkinginallcaps.tumblr.com)

In breaking news, I have successfully removed the safety latch from my 12th floor window so that I might better enjoy the view of the Sound and also, the sounds of the View. Also, I could now drop small mammals out of it as well. Not that I would, mind you, but I could.
Also, this is pretty delightful :

Though I'm not totally sold on the dark bands on the new kit, but whatever, TV could be wearing a Snuggie and the skipper's band and it would be fine. RVP and Song are gone, which again means the loss of a great song ("Alex Dimitri Sonnnng Billlllong") and, well; a tall Dutch goalscoring machine who admittedly deserves to win at least one trophy before he retires, having been jacked for pretty much everything else in his career. (Though a not-so-secret part of me does hope his chocolate leg makes an appearance for Fergie this year)
So far my fantasy team is tanking in points my hesitancy to choose Nasri in particular botched it for me. Little bastard, scoring in the first game. Ah well, I'll tweak it next week. I'm mid-table in all leagues.
Also, there's still Arshavin. Let the Russian pagehits continue!

new season

...and Fado, a mere 3 blocks away, shows the games live. And I have Saturdays off still. And, I can hear the Sounders' Supporters rally, beffore the March to the Match on Occidental, not to mention the singing and chants from the stadium itself. Kind of amazing. If I was in Islington, it'd be Arsenal chants. Might have new job already - though it's a bit early for me to leave this first spot, if the opportunity is better $-wise and doesn't involve me baking full time in production mode, it would mean working 8 blocks away, and I'd kind of dig that. Plus new place has medical and 401k and opportunities for other locations to be established. Sweet. Loving all the other downsizing in my life right now, less stuff, more feels. Really good. Happy the footy is back on too, and got my wireless hooked up with just hours to spare, woohoo! Back to more regular posting - relying on mobile for blogging isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Born on this day.

So, I get to pat myself on the back, as last fall I promised myself I would be in a new apartment, in downtown Seattle before my next birthday. I did it. By the skin of my teeth, but I did it. I moved up when I planned, I stayed with the brother as long as planned, got to fast track the youngest nephew into my world, got a kick ass job that looks already like its going to transition into an even more kick ass job, already! I mean, that always happens, but this time in less than 90 days?!? Wtf? I mean, it's in progress, I'll probably finish the year at this spot, but then it's off to secure my future, and work 10 blocks from home! Woot!
Also the visit from Dawny has been fantastic - we picked up where we left off, we had great fun, and she helped my slay a demon by fixing the Hopey tattoo. Not only was it sloppily done (because I was in a hurry and went to a guy I didn't know to do it) so didnt hold up well, getting all blotchy...but it's te time it represents. I got that tattoo the night before my first real date with SMRGE. That period, that season has passed...but I love Hopey, I love my history (even when it is appropriated by others. I know who I am, what I did, where I went and what I mean to people. You can glom on to it and repackage it as your own, but in the end, it's just more false bullshit) and I wanted to also memorialize Dawn and I reuniting, so I asked her to frame Hopey in her signature Victorian-y swirly black fine line filigree work. It's fucking beautiful. Changed the energy of the piece to what it should be: a celebration of my best friend, my life experiences, and my love of punk rock. It is no longer a sad stamp of a hasty decision. Best birthday since getting the invite to stage at Upstairs. Yay.

Affirmation: I am good.

for your ears...

sounds great at night, staring at the skyline. helps. heal. wounds:
alabama shakes at the Newport Folk Festival
Eight more flavors of awesome. Things change. Hold on.

Sometimes all it takes is a glimpse of something in the right place at an unexpected moment. This time, it was a mail truck coming out of a street onto Highway 9, which I had mistakenly decided to use as "the scenic route" today - and all of the sudden, in this area I grew up in, on the roads with no sidewalks (much less shoulders) with greenery that grows to your waist in all directions, even at the height of summer, during a day where there were thunderstorms while the sun shone I was hit with this intense feeling of nostalgia. Nostalgia for waiting for the mail to arrive.
It's weird, as I think about it, how important the mail has been in my life. When I first moved to Seattle from southern California with my family, I wrote letters to my best friend every week. I journaled incessently, and subscribed to Rolling Stone and Creem. Even when I was younger, and we moved from the suburbs to the ranch community in the hills outside of LA, I had a subscription to Tiger Beat and also Dynamite magazines, that I waited on with such anticipation. I read them over and over, memorizing all the latest news and cultural ephemera. When I began writing letters regularly, in junior high, I realized that much communication among punks and creative types was happening via letters and fanzines: which could be as simple as copied sheets of paper with photos taped on, loosely modeled on the newspaper layout I was learning in school in both junior and senior high schools (yes, AV and Paper Staff Photog nerd, that was my gig). I started responding to ads for pen pals in zines and magazines like Star Hits (yes...the '80s were a magical time of foppish brit-teen mags and skater 8x11's folded in half with one staple in the center). I lived for the mail to arrive, letters from friends, magazine transmissions that would link me to what was happening in music and politics, and even ordering things like records, sunglasses, everything I could. Every day I expected something, and knew what time (generally) the mail would come...in the summer, waiting patiently, tiptoeing in bare feel through the carport to see if the flag was down on the mail box yet (because usually I was sending something out into the world as well). I had a small thrill early in the days of MTV when I actually won a free xmas button bearing the simple M on a green background with the candy-cane "tv" logo - it was a prized badge that I wore constantly...until I gave it to a boy I liked, setting a tone for my romantic endeavors that still rings true to this day. Hey, Ty Moe, if yr out there, I want my badge back!
Anyway, as I drove I thought about how I don't look forward to mail much anymore - generally the only mail I'm happy to receive involves some sort of monetary exchange...I do love sending packages and letters though. I sent an awesome Valentine's package this year. Not that it mattered in the long run, but it was so fun to put together, and brought back that thrill of wanting to surprise someone special. Dawn, who I'll be seeing in a couple days, and I spent years sending packages and flyers and odd cards and found objects to each other. Darell and I would exchange multi-page letters every week - I remember vividly getting stressed if more days than normal passed before something arrived: was it lost? Being in a band, we booked whole tours, and did the bulk of promotion and communication via the mail. Interviews. Selling records, all of it.
I dunno where to go with this right at the moment, but I just had this intense feeling of pity for people who haven't known the joy of expecting mail. Of communication in that way, the lovely excitement of holding something in your hands that someone wrote, to you. Of their feelings on paper, to be read, and re-read. Art and trinkets to be shared, displayed, treasured. In this age of amazing technology, I miss the rush of expecting mail, of having something to look forward to...yeah. More soon maybe. I just will miss the USPS when it's gone. It's amazing that you can put a piece of cardboard that you've written a message to someone on into a box, and that it will travel around the world. Amazing. That sort of communication, that sort of connection seems archaic, I know, but it also seems so much more...what? Genuine? Not that I don't love the speed and ease of the internet and cellphones, etc, and am glad for the people it's brought back into my life...it also has taken some of the mystery away as well, some of the romance of sharing bits of yourself over time and growing close....its not better, its just different, and like so many things will merely be something I remember from my early life just like my parents remember when radios started becoming replaced by televisions. Only way, way faster.

Luckily, I have plenty of Supernatural to get through before this happens. Also, K2 coming in October! The hits just keep coming!

same as the first time....

“Growing up, you make all sorts of rules and morals for yourself that are based on arbitrary concepts and assumptions, but not on real experience. All these rigid ideas about how to live, the way relationships should be, the way the world works. Especially when you grow up punk. Then experience comes along to make mincemeat out of your morals. Everything does not fit into your pre-packaged plan. Everything you rallied and preached against now seems sort of warm and cuddly.”

—

From Cometbus #41 (1997)

can't help it; makes smiles.

THE SUBLIME BEAUTY OF THE NATURAL WORLD IS FUCKING OBNOXIOUS.

via

daily events prompt no response from populace....still.

current feels

i see london...

I'm not a big fan of the Olympics, as it seems very forced and farcical given the hostilities around the world and the fact that for two weeks everyone pretends to get along, for the sake of sports (?) - though it does provide some diversion and of course this year i recognize some of the soccer players in all the different national team's names, but sorting through the ephemera of news-y stuff, i found this (2nd of two parts) bit of video about the bell built for the opening ceremonies, which is the largest harmonically tuned bell ever built...pretty frigging cool:

So, in the industry, it's known as "in the weeds"; for me, it was wigging out, full-on, channeling some serious evil CG mojo, because every time GMB joked about not burning a pizza...i inevitably did. And then, I swear he was calling tickets willy nilly and changing his mind, but you can't challenge a chef mid-service, so i just put my head down and plowed through. Horrible, horrendous night. I have grown to really hate Thursdays following He Who Is Supposed To Be Fired. Yeah. I was behind the 8-ball to start with, and it just got worse when GMB got pissy. Anyway, the beauty is that eventually, I get to close the station, have my beer and shot, commisserate with Nathalie, (and, it turns out, Xavier, who chatted a bit about Ashley which was funny and nice, and the back rub was appreciated as well :) and then going home listening to KEXP, where they were playing "In A Big Country", which made me smile like crazy. Goddamn, I love this town.

Not that I was a huge Big Country fan or anything, but that song is so evocative of my formative years in this town, and having been in contact with the OK Hotel about renting a place there, and telling them how much living there would mean to me...I dunno, I just couldn't stop smiling, all the way home. What a fun song. 4 minutes home, how great is that? And soon, no more driving...I hope. Unless the buses are really sketchy. Gonna try it out next week, but I needed to be in early today. So. Yeah. That.

 

weds night meet up

with charles and lia, sushi, new spot on the Hill that I wasn't stoked about. Meh. Back to Ha Na for me. Strolled around though, such a beautiful night, the three musketeers back in business, stopped at the new place that sells premade local stuff and has a big grass cow in front (photo ops! sent immediately to SF!) and as we were walking back we ran into Todd and Fisher, so that was nice too - catching up and laughing.
More later, certainly. Bummed I just found out about Ok Hotel being available to live in now...but maybe next year or something...we'll see, though i'd really not have to move again for a while.

and this.

Ok, so I had to get blindingly drunk, crash at Sous Matt's house, and drive home this afternoon to find my recipe book lying on the floorboard of my car, behind the passenger seat. WTF, Universe? I tore that car apart (or thought I did) a week ago, and then, when I finally behave in a (somewhat moderately) responsible behavior (for a change) - it comes back to me.
I'll take it. Horrendously hungover though it is my day off....yeah.

blogging is for this.