the hottest of damns

when I lived in Yelm (shudder), my ex's parents lived only a few miles away. they were renovating their bathroom and had a baby-blue commode to dispose of. I took it with the intention of making a fuck-you-suburbia planter out of it. and so it sat in the backyard, empty and gross and blue, completely un-utilized in my planter fantasy, until I finally moved away. 

I think of that fucking miserable era every time I see orphan toilets. it's still a great idea, damn it. 

I admit: I fucking love the space needle. I like how it is immediately iconic and looks like nothing else in the world, which are the marks of awesome architecture (even when potentially hideous). but I especially enjoy it from a distance. up close, it's too polished and surrounded by tourists and fucking drum circles and shitty souvenirs. it's cheesy and expensive and most locals never go to the top unless guests are visiting from out of town. but from afar! I love the *Holiday Tree* of lights and how a few years ago they painted the pinnacle Galaxy Gold, and how depending on the various sociopolitical goings-on there are rainbow flags and Seahawks flags and red lights for HIV awareness and it's just an awesome nexus that anyone in a ten-mile radius can glance up and admire. seattle, with its topographic variability, is pretty spectacular that way. 

hence, another view from my neighborhood. 

my partially melted snack from the good people at a LBGTQ church booth. 

my street. 

apparently someone chewed an entire container of Bubble Tape and stuck it on the outside of the bus window, mere inches from my head. my camera was pretending to be classy and refused to focus on the gum. 

First Hill. I still have fantasies of an evocative attic room with rain-smacked dormer windows... and oh my god, window seats. Jesus, like I need even more places to be introverted and plaintive. 

Belltown. 

the paint ("Ocean Mist", my favorite variety of mist) which shall not come off, 12 hours later. 

4th Avenue. I always wondered if the mirrored buildings around downtown were built with the idea of what they would potentially reflect.

Montlake. 

this is what happens when you use the Roger Dean filter on yourself. 

the revised table-thing that I plucked from the alley a couple months ago! my lair smells of paint and possibilities.

"ask a female firefighter what it's like being a female firefighter and rightfully she'll stare at you without an answer. because what are you asking her? are you asking her what it's like to do her job or what it's like to be her sex, the sex she's been her entire life?" Dave Madden