ephemereality

it's been a good week to buy flowers. 

I often feel like I'm interrupting an intricate conversation the universe is having with someone else. 

I saw this and thought about how most of the world doesn't hold housepets in the same slavish esteem. how odd this sign would be to someone from a completely different culture! say you've learned enough English to understand the sentiment: thank you for the kind advice, but what does a (not) shitting dog have to do with my manners? especially in a garden? I dunno. it was funny at the time to exactly only me. 

I love this nerdy fucking town. 

always look down. ideally, always look everywhere. 

Roger Deaning the montlake cut. 

pendulous blossoms! I love how they caress as one passes, spewing pollen, the dust as amorphous and transient and potentially debilitating as a lover.  

this is blurry because as I was hastily taking it I realized I was basically aiming a camera inside someone's lair and that's fucking creepy no matter how lamblike I appear and camera-bait-laden their windows are. but if ever ya want a pet portrait, get thee to 17th & Mercer-ish. 

I went to a chat 'bout weed at Town Hall on Friday. it was sparsely attended and rather inane. I've always found the marijuana industry pretty goofily handled. when it was "medical-only" it was illegitimatized by wink-wink beaurocracy and dispensaries with, like, red-eyed inner-tubing turtles as their logos; now that it's recreational, there's still the (encouraged?) stereotypes of lazy daft munchy-crunchy twits flaking out on the responsibilities of, say, personal hygiene and complete sentences in lieu of eating jam straight out of the jar with chopsticks.

^ holy fucking shit, run-on. I just wrote that without editing it, and I am not high as I'm typing this, I swear. 

anyway, the "symposium" devolved into inarticulate malarkey to the point where as we all filed out of the building (average demographic, by the way: ~40 and Caucasian, aka Seattle), I heard some dude behind me sarcastically say "well, that ended interestingly." and that made my night. 

they were handing these out in the lobby. the woman at the booth repeated several times that they were not dosed. "ooh!" said a gray-haired guy in front of me as he tried one. 

and today: a sexy-ass chair through the window at Area 51. those damn Danes, man. 

"human beings have only a weak ability to process logic, but a very deep core capability of recognizing patterns." Ray Kurzweil 

the ides of April

I had a dream last night that I was being chased through an office building. the hallway was a square loop with elevators and stairs in the center. it was a squat 70s structure with low popcorn ceilings and pervasive creams and mustards. a woman was standing against the wall the next time I ran by. she was holding a syringe. "this'll put him into a coma, but for only five seconds" she said. 

I went around the corner and couldn't find the stairs or elevator. I passed her again. "I can't give him another one" she said. I finally found the door to the fucking stairs and started running down. five steps, turn, five steps, turn, the walls beige and cinder-blocky and fluorescently lit, my shoes too loud. I started to skip stairs and realized that by holding onto the red metal handrail I could essentially twirl the entire way without touching the steps. I'm flying downwards, I thought. but I was still being fucking chased and unable to fully enjoy my new ability, and I woke up with a thrash. 

*

I was walking a block from my lair today and a little kid stick its (her?) head out the backseat window and yelled "hey, it's that lady!" at me. I was too startled to react feistily; I was more annoyed with the driver/overseer of that kid than anything. 

I was also annoyed with apparently being less anonymous than I'd prefer.

* 

Harvard Ave. 

another view of yesterday's emotional cloudery. 

more holga filter frippery. 

gelastic adj (je LAS tik): pertaining to laughter 

the onus of autonomy

the currently empty (but mostly in the fervent process of being revitalized/gentrified) storefront project, continued:

Broadway & Pike. 

the perpetually-doomed restaurant space  on 10th & E Miller. I've never seen a business survive more than six months at this location. the adjacent establishments seem to be doing okay.
Pine & Melrose, the viscera of the former Bauhaus. 

my neighborhood. 

also my neighborhood. 

perfect time for an earthquake, I always think. would the beams splay outward, or would the whole thing crumble like a fool proposing? 

10th Ave. 

how would you describe yourself to someone else? 

x-rated neurotica

you know how little kids close their eyes and think that being unable to see their surroundings makes them invisible? walking directly into the sun as a grown-ass adult provides that same sensation. maybe it's just me.  

*

they're finally building structures that give back- that reflect their surroundings instead of sucking them into a stony 80s black hole. 

the property planning sites on seattle.gov show the different height zoning and potential daylight impact of various neighborhoods, as well as a welter of proposed and glassily angular buildings all apparently designed by the same architecture classes. it's mindsucky as fuck if you're into nerdy shit like that. 

*

a sinister storm approaches from the north and glares passive-aggressively at 12th Ave. 

hot leafless ampersand weather. 

I actually obeyed the signs and touched nothing. 

I was reading at night and looked up and my own reflection startled me. 

"all intellectual improvement arises from leisure." Samuel Johnson

the elaborate ruse

the derelict homes at 12th & John. now that the boards have been pried off (again) the smell is even more pungent: acrid burned house-flesh and decades of mold. an old building becomes a living entity, practically sentient, abscessing. 

I count six cranes in this image. 

I was lazily admiring the many knotholed trees along 17th when this one scared the fucking crap out of me. 

my city. 

another tempestuous storm over Cal Anderson! I love when public places are desolated. the ground was squishy and sodden and my boots leaked. everything smells fucking alive. 

artsy. 

14th Ave. i stopped abruptly to take this and a dude walking the opposite direction smiled at me like what the fuck? does no one else notice shit like this? 

Volunteer Park yesterday, the first sandal day of the year. ah, the gnats. the air was soft enough to be practically intangible. 

everything about this. 

John Street. 

backlit. 

it's probably not as bad for your teeth as meth.  

"sterling merit discovers itself." Molière