the rock that skips

cats are assholes. see? 

I revised the B&W from the Facebook thing a couple weeks ago. the dark foreground bothered the fuck out of me. this has been "fill light"-ed by about 300%, which is why it now has a rather pleasant curdled texture. 

scene from a sleazy 70s miniseries. 

sorta-unsatisfying holiday attempt at mulled wine. this was the first Thanksgiving I spent completely, purposely, blissfully alone. there was no frantic ER shift, no depressing birthday falling on the same date, no expectations. if I had a car I'd probably have gone to the family gathering in Tacoma, but I don't. 

holidays are weird. I've spent my entire life purposely avoiding or at least downplaying them. I loved working those days. I loved taking myself out of the obligation equation. 

mulled wine, the way I ending up making it, was barely-okay. Trader Joes shit-wine, the peel off a shriveled clementine, cloves, a free spice packet one of the workers at TJs nonchalantly ripped off a bottle of mead for me ("don't worry about it" he said cheerfully). I didn't add the cinnamon sticks or the honey I'd bought. I thought "why waste awesome ingredients on something that's inherently not very delicious?" 

it's kind of a social beverage. so I just had a mugful. but the lair smelled festive. 

that all sounded a bit more pathetic than I intended. 

the pen-testing section at the UW bookstore. PUPLE. 

sneaux! 

Alaska it ain't. but fuck, the cold air feels divine. and snow smells the same no matter where you are. 

15th NE. 

and right now. 

ever reread your old journals and realize that everything you were miserable and confused and bitching about has been resolved? it's a fucking delightful feeling. I feel practically jaunty right now.

36, day one

...you know how the traits you hate in others are the traits you hate in yourself? 

I think about all the people who aren't in my life any more. I lost touch with a lot of friends over the past year; occasionally it was mutual and, on however depressing a level, organic, but more often it was for various non-reasons that never really mattered in the first place. I would eventually "react" by letting the relationships die on the vine, figuring that if they gave a shit, they'd fight back. fight for my amazing companionship! and no one really did. 

I can awkwardly try to "pro-me" rationalize a lot of it: I put forth more effort into keeping our friendship alive than they did, and when I stopped, they never started. or: we were already clandestine and it was in everyone's best interest for me to just vanish entirely. or: they had families and obligations that I simply couldn't relate to, no matter how mature I pretended to be. or: they were exes, half-heartedly resurrected because I was too self-sabotaging to make the effort to find anything better. 

however, I am the common denominator, and a few grotesque truths became impossible to ignore: 

-I have a hideous temper. I react to everything with blind emotion and disproportionate anger. as fiercely as I feel elation and excitement, I am enraged and rude and cruel. it is an extremely immature way to behave. I used to have the fucking audacity to consider myself more honest than most; if nothing else, those around me always knew what mood I was in, if not necessarily the reason why. but that's not honesty or emotional purity or whatever other bullshit euphemisms I dream up in order to validate myself. it's just me being a shitty, incredibly childish asshole. 

-I get bored far too easily, and by "bored" I mean LAZY. there is never any fucking reason in this astonishing universe to be bored, but there are infinite ways to justify stepping away from reality and hiding behind useless props. I think of all the vapid evenings I've spent arguing about unmemorable nonsense at bars, or wandering the city without really noticing or caring, or the way I hide behind headphones or a notebook or my fucking goddamn phone. bettering myself does not come naturally to me at all, but fucking myself over certainly does. it is easier to fall back into a cocoon than to face the world raw. I despise that in others. I consider it weak and flinchy and sad. and yet. and how. 

-I am at my best, and I am the person I like and respect the most, when I am sober and moving my body and feeling competent at what I'm doing. I feel good when I am at work, and I fucking love what I do. I feel good when I sing along, and when I write, and when I listen. I feel good when I learn something new. I feel good when I am outside and the world is roiling ceaselessly around me. I feel good when I forget to feel self-conscious. 

yesterday was my birthday, which started out fine but ended up being one of the crappier days of my life. and I woke up around 3 this morning to sideways rain hitting the windows and relentless sirens, many of them, circling the neighborhood. I sat in the dark and stared outside. ambulances and cop cars were speeding down the main road a block away, getting louder, vague red and blue reflections from their lights visible off the buildings across the street. this new apartment is exponentially nicer. the cat curled up by my knee. and I thought about how I've spent far too much time and effort and energy throughout my life fucking around and being unproductive and taking the universe for granted and acting like a fucking brat.

I'm going to try being sober for a while. it's an easy and simple and positive thing to do. I like the world much better when the edges are sharp, and I've gotten too complacent with blurriness. plus, I don't want any extra excuses or doubts for when I act like an asshole. I need to feel fully present and accountable. maybe this will allow me the two-second reaction-delay I've been craving. 

my other teabag-tag today said: "live through consciousness, not through emotion." I had already made my mind up about the changes I needed to make, but that was a very timely token of extra "damn...." 

this world, man. 

to those who are still in my life, I thank you and I love you and I hope you will let me be there for you too. 

that's why I'm easy.

the sunsets lately, oh my god. this is from the parking lot at 15th & Madison- y'know, the one with yet another "proposed land use action" sign covered with sulky tags. 

other people stopped to admire the view also. 

through the window into a vacant restaurant in Queen Anne. I liked the accidental juxtaposition of the building across the street. 

see, this is what passes for graffiti on the Hill. 

fleeting shot of another sexy, mysterious sunset from the 44 approaching Ballard. 

unfiltered, apart from the Vignette border: the last photo before I moved all my shit out of the hellpit-lair. 

I must be reasonable.... it could be a fun space. I had some very nice times there. it was where my life pleasantly unfurled from the disaster-knot that was Anchorage. and on lazy sunny mornings it was fucking beautiful. 

but it felt so fucking good to leave. 

my newest baby upon adoption. she sat through two cold bus rides like a lil trouper. 

entropy-pants fucking loves the new place. 

4pm today at 2nd & Pike. 

shouldn't pessimism be called "stoptimism"? 

soliloquid: a long boring monologue about a liquid.

15th Avenue. 

the Pinhole filter allows me to pretend I have substantive brows. and angst. thank fuck I didn't know about the goddamn Pinhole filter when I was a shitty, heinous15 year old.  

also on 15th. not pictured: the snarky plaque requesting that since this is like an art installation n shit, don't like fucking steal it, k? 

this part of 15th is predominantly populated by earnest folks in sensible footwear, carrying $5 cups of coffee and walking sarcastic-looking dogs with ironically fluorescent leashes. no one's gonna steal your smiling cutlery on a piece of plywood. 

...dick. 

a re-probe of the long-latent Blue Study! this happens every fucking year when the blue skies become a jarring novelty and the few colors one sees are exponentially bombastic. 

seattle seems to slowly be getting better at not simply building structures that greedily suck the shadows and light inward. if you must violate the city with more overpriced ghastly real estate, please at least provide more reflective windows and colorfulness and interesting shapes.

I mean, give us poor folk something to admire, for fuck's sake. 

I was on the 43 and the guy in red got on with a backpack. he sat down stridently and his bag EXPLODED with some milk-like fluid. I haven't seen something combust so satisfyingly (and unexpectedly!) in YEARS! the driver stopped at the light and came back to wipe every seat in the front 1/3 of the bus down with a rag. 

it was funny and anecdotal until the guy in the red shirt didn't move while the driver was cleaning everything up. he didn't budge. he just fucking sat there with an uncomfortable expression on his face. 

I got kinda judgy. 

19th Ave. my ex loved Chuck Mangione. 

I fucking loathe Chuck Mangione. 

Spongebob, I'm indifferent towards. 

I like the guy out to the right. fucking asshole nihilist. your crow-friends probably ARE jerks. sulky fuckin' pouty-assed poetry-writin' crow. 

I don't *always* want to show off my sexy-ass lazy eye, so I tend to plaintively look into the distance when I take photos of myself, as a fucking asshole might. cross eye > assholery on the intolera-bell curve. 

I should title this "oh! I had no idea the camera was there, in my hand, TAKING MY FUCKING PICTURE."

oh, you.