panic, on trying not to

the mountains (McKinley, Foraker, and the one I can't remember the name of) were visible from 300 miles away, but my phone camera couldn't discern them, even before the filtration. 

back-alley Alaskana. 

this alcove in the pedestrian alley beside the 4th Ave Theatre is where, circa 1994, a pay phone used to be. we'd call our moms from there to get rides, furtively exhaling the fumes from our Doral Menthol Ultra-lights (bought underage from the now-defunct bodega at 4th & E) away from the vile receiver so that they remained unaware of our silly habits. 

last night's skygasm. 

my happy place. 

whoever you are, I fucking like you an awful lot. 

skyrockets in flight? 

thanks so much for everyone who's offered their kindness and clarity lately. it's helped me far more than you can imagine. you know who you are.