Miss Construed, if yer nasty.

I've been trying to draw more. it's a shaky realm to reenter. the entire time I was growing up it was ohh you're such a good artist you're so talented I could never gifted gifted such a gift. and I got lazy. whatever! drawing was always easy for me. it was a thing I did with my hands and it solved the bifold onus of 1. being fidgety as fuck and 2. disliking prolonged eye contact. until I discovered cigarettes, drawing solved all my weird problems. 

I don't even know what I'm "good at" anymore. does anyone? 

she has a paw-print on the end of her nose! 8 years old and I've never noticed this? 

this reminds me of those old photos of people behaving whimsically, of students cramming themselves into phone booths or penny-farthing-ing along the boardwalk. devil-may-care, caution to the wind, let us cavort within sweaty plastic orbs. 

Madison Park. 

seriously? cirrus-ly. 

this is out of focus, as it happens when I am too hastily self-conscious with my photo-taking at the QFC. I bought these because they must apply to me somehow. 

today is grey and soft and perfect- that mellow dour Seattleness that removes all unrealistic expectations of energy and optimism.

...and as I was just writing this I heard a click-trainer noise from outside my window and saw a man walking down the sidewalk, feeding a throng of crows that he'd summoned with the clicker. it's one of those marvelous things you hear about but never actually see. way to disrupt my despondent-weather hypothesis, Life! it's nice to be reminded that random magical shit like this probably happens all the time. 

apogee whiz

I recently read that one of the most frustrating aspects of human psychology, as opined by a psychologist, is our rather pointless quest to "find an answer." we look for a solution, the missing piece to our problem, hoping that this will finally align every dissonant chord. but we (mostly) already know what the answers are. it's more about, as he said far more eloquently than I can remember now, finding a different perspective in which to look at things. 

I've been thinking about this a lot. maybe that was my new perspective? ...predictably, it's not an instant fix either. 

sexy, mysterious Capitol Hill. 

I passed this, walked half a block further, thought "damn it, that's quietly awesome," and returned to take this picture. I love that someone took the time to place it here, and I especially admire how no one came along to fuck it up. 

the bridge of a thousand angles. 

at first glance I thought this was something weirdly interspecies-lascivious involving an elephant, until it was pointed out to me that it's actually a human with a fishing pole. 

Pine Street.

I don't remember if I've posted this yet, but moods are always brightened by huge-ass sunflowers. 

ever feel like you're the only thing that gets in your own way? 

things that happen on holidays

most cities have jarring societal and monetary juxtapositions. Seattle very much does, but it tends to passive-aggressively pretend it doesn't. or maybe it just tries to hide everything behind a welter of earnest hand-wringing and committee-forming. or maybe our gentrification casts a more rakish and far-reaching shadow. or maybe Seattle is still, despite its most earnest puppylike intentions, a big town masquerading as a metropolis. 

if appallingly stark contrasts are what defines a proper city, Vancouver BC is a proper city. 

I would love to compare today's Vancouver skyline to that of 15 years ago. everything seems new: new and glossy and expensive as fuck, glass walls reflecting the sailboats in the harbor, trees erupting from rooftop gardens, every condo building named something stupid like Alto or Alight. 

and if you can afford it, the living is lovely. very lovely! grape varieties I'd never heard of: 

and thrift shops with class:

and more fruity towers of succulence:

and more condos: 

and ridiculously delicious (deliculous?) oysters ate whilst overlooking the water and sipping a $10 cocktail: 

because fuck it! how often do I get to eat pretty food like this? damn right I'm photographing it. with my iPhone, whilst dining al fresco, on a street that faces a men's grooming shoppe: 

but then there's this. 

if you walk a couple blocks behind where I took this from, you get to our hotel. a couple blocks the other way, you hit the cafes with the twee ampersandy names and the park with the live music and the boutiques of stark design. but for about a ten-block stretch, Vancouver proves most flagrantly that it is, if one were to adhere to the aforementioned definition, very much a city. 

everyone we passed was actually quite nice, if they interacted with us at all. 

and instead of moronic tags, the graffiti was of this ilk: 

the purpose of traveling, ultimately, is to gain or refresh a different perspective, to feel uneasy and giddy and humbled and grateful, to make the colors brighter and the edges sharper. it was an illuminating weekend. 

the view from the room:

and facing the other way:

and the building's elevator. 

the sky facing reentry towards Seattle was Bob Rossy as fuck. 

life is poignant and amazing and good. 

*

this is what happens when you crack a windshield in the Alps! 

and she's a pleasure-seeking hedonist, too. 

"what is fairest/ still is rarest." Euripides 

attitudious

August was an interesting month. this has been a most illuminating summer. I was walking today and thinking about how fucking great everything currently seems and realized I was smiling vacantly. 

I wish I could hoard this optimistic mellow feeling for sprinkling over the times when I desperately need it. 

*

Washington burned. I stood in the middle of the street to take this picture. two other people on the same block were doing the same thing, phones to the sky. "this is cool! you don't see this very often!" one woman announced. I said something cynical and grouchy like "yeah, it's beautiful in a tragic way" and walked off. in Seattle we got to casually bask in the surreality with none of the tangible horror. 

reflections glowed. 

underpassery. 

hidden in Eastlake. 

paintballery.

this is what passes for a bar in Seattle. every time I'm vaguely nostalgic for Alaska I remember that stumbling upon shit like this is why I live here. 

in contrast, the Alaskaness of the Pacific Inn Pub. 

another filter of downtown. 

and another view of what is probably a grass spider. 

"a written message is less apt to evaporate. without it, you might think that you'd dreamed it." Christopher Coe