unexpended energy

I took this picture for the frigid backlit furnace-steam, but the filter turned it into something Pythonesque. 

in between all those girlish pillow fights and slow-motion car washes at ma château d'amour. 

a tree-lighting ceremony as seen from the warmth of the PAC. the right filter can turn the most benign of settings into the 9th circle of hell. 

the aforementioned Fish Creek Alm was unappreciated by someone. it's the thing I check for now. today it was covered in a thin veneer of ice. 

the "does liquor freeze?" experiment, part 1. the bottle is back in my freezer where it belongs. 

36th Ave. 

steamy windows. 

a British holiday programme I watched earlier today introduced me to the liqueur known as Advocaat. sounds vile! mix it with 7-Up and lime juice and you have a Snowball to inebriate the fustiest of aunties! 

but yet your kindness is a constant surprise

there is a magical block-length span of unplowed bucolia on my street. this is the portal I have referenced in posts prior, the conduit that transports me from Turnagain (tepid water) to Spenard (painfully hot). on one end is my house, sandwiched between two typical Anchorage homes of sprawling yard-detritus and ailing vehicles (tattered prayer flags optional); after the Conduit of Bucolia is a row of about five immaculate homes of newer subdivided construction. it's a nice reprieve from life's self-involved bullshit, this expanse. 

this is what it looks like from about 67 inches off the ground. 

i staggered through the unplowed wilds of Spenard today...

this contains no telephone. it's outside the Carousel Lounge. a woman in the parking lot was bitching at someone on her cell phone while I was taking this picture. how some moments so poignantly French-braid themselves! 

thank you for this, whomever you are. 

the park on Minnesota. 

I think I was listening to Television "Friction" on my headphones when I took this, so this will hereafter be referred to as the Friction Compound. 

alms for Fish Creek. 

the snow last night along the Park Strip. 

I went to Darwin's tonight to, among sundry nefarious things, do the silly crossword puzzle in the Press. the older guy next to me kept trying to slurrily engage in conversation; I was a surly bitch in return. he finally turned away and started talking to others. eventually he tapped me on the shoulder and said "I'm having more fun with these people than you're having with your crossword puzzle." it was profound and damning enough of an observation that I wrote down his quote verbatim and continued with what I was doing. I like to have visual tangible proof, ideally in my own handwriting, of how vastly I can miss the fucking point. 

seriously: if you're fully aware of how much of a hostile jerk you're behaving, and you feel ashamed of that but not ashamed enough to alter your behavior, how much of a fucking asshole does that make you? 

re-falling in re-love

the lurid sunsetty cloudglow last Friday. 

go-fuck-yourself stare/

cricket limbs dangling from mouth/

the pet store gecko

sexy, mysterious Lake Otis Parkway. 

today's view from the lazy place, facing northwest.  

I'm propped on my elbow and her disgusting paw is covering my mouth. 

this is almost better than the "FRCNDY" van. 

Someone on Lois Drive lost their hat. I didn't tweak the colors at all. 

the other night around 6pm I was cutting through the park on my way home. a man was walking his dog and cat through the snow along the creek. I recognized the dog because he always barks at me from his yard a few houses away. "my cat's nice" he said. the cat rubbed against my boots with his tail in the air, purring. and then it trotted back onto the thin ice-edge to drink some more. 

rippling in still waters

there is some texturally fun stuff happening in the snow around this silly place. 

the midday sun. 

the lair is kept at 78F. heat's included. it's fucking marvelous.  

frozen at Minnesota & Benson. 

4pm sunset from Lake Otis & 36th.

capturing the waiting-for-buses-that-don't-show-up magic. public transit here: a bilateral ass-smacking in both humility and meek optimism. it fucking sucks. at least they crank the heat.

the shit-cat making out with the dracena. 

if I didn't feel so fucking lazy I'd be wanting to do something amazing right now. 

the city that left the seat down

it's time to pull my head out of my ass. again. still. 

the other day I made a list comparing Alaska to Seattle. I was depressed about being back. I was pissed off about the darkness, the cold, feeling claustrophobic, not having any money, not having any motivation, being away from the familiarity of Washington that was much more tolerable in a vacation-sized dose.

but it's gotten better. the reasons I chose to move back are damn good ones, and they've proven themselves extremely apparent over the past week. I am grateful for my amazing friends, my lair in which I do not have to pay for heat, the bliss of self-propelled mobility, and how fucking beautiful it is here. Alaska is a place most people only dream about visiting. and it's easy to forget that when I'm waiting in the 5pm dark for a bus that doesn't fucking show up and it's so cold that I can taste the snot on my face before I realize it's there because my skin's numb. it's easy to forget that when I walk into the Minnesota Carrs and it smells like ass and everyone looks grimy and sullen. and it's VERY easy to forget that when I see everyone's updates on Facebook about leafy trees and concerts and awesome dinners at hip foofy restaurants. 

when I compare anything, it makes me fucking crazy. when I just appreciate what IS, life is much more palatable. go figure! 

and it also helps to remember why Seattle, bless its bitchy heart, was worth leaving. the overabundance of fucking HUMANS, everywhere. the horrible chain stores and soulless banks where cool independent establishments used to be. how everything has a monetary value and it's usually fucking expensive. the oh-so-awesomeness that I cannot possibly compete with, much less aspire to. the aloof plastic yuppie veneer over what was once a truly amazing city. THE LACK OF GODDAMN EYE CONTACT! 

I have to remind myself so I won't feel as fucking sad as I have. 

meanwhile, the Anchorage winter arrived like a loud, drunken houseguest. 

first it was snain. 

then it was snow.

and then it was sun.

thanks for being patient with my continual self-doubts and maudlin bullshit and pointless bitching, you friendly, sexy, show-off little town. 

and here is Entropy standing on my foot. 

rapid eyeless movement

it's taken me this long to write about my recent jaunt to Washington because, shit, it's like rereading old love letters from an ex. I feel like I can't fully settle in anywhere. when was the last time I was in a place where I truly felt comfortable, or at least not as restless? Queen Anne? that was years ago. 

vacations represent the idealistic unreality, anyway. 

this was the stimulating view of Anchorage as I flew away. 

when I got to seattle... it smelled amazing, it was warm, the leaves were red and lurid, and a couple people inside the airport actually returned my eye contact, probably because they were from somewhere else. 

the epic Burke House pumpkin staircase. 

the PNW is a fucking show-off harlot. okay, cue the bird! is the quaint boat in the picture? glassy water? oh, stop! it was nothing. 

even the beach-litter is pretty. 

an absurdly attractive site for higher learning and kids with rich parents. 

Pike Place Market. 

a snail from the leeks in the yard. 

orgasmic deviled eggs with salmon roe and some other stupidly tasty stuff.  

rabbit stew. I chopped the vegetables. 

humidity. 

....AAAND back to Alaska... 

where the drains exhale warmly. 

and there's cool shit like this along the bike trails. 

current view from my living room. the solar index is nonexistent today. 

and it just started snowing for the first time this winter.