schlocktober

Denny Way... right across the street from the building in which I once lived. that was the basement studio that my first husband and I trashed. trashed. he spilt an entire bottle of bright red cinnamon shit-schnapps on the beige carpet one night whilst falling back drunkenly to better appreciate the bombast of Genesis' "Musical Box." this was the place with no bathroom doorknob. this was the place we lived when we first got married, the place where we cooked and fought and slept and laughed and where I made curtains for the windows. 

if only this was there then? 

this is the only SR99 sign I know of with such hand-painted macabre. 

entropy photobomb. I am somewhat less creepy than this. 

Ballard. 

Greenwood. 

butter in coffee is the fucking bomb. 

trust me. 

THESE FEATHERS DON'T MOLT. 

Belltown. 

Pike Place. 

Convention Place (part 2 or 3 in a series). 

if you stare uneasily at yourself in a mirror, shouldn't that be a circumflection? 

stickaz in F-mont. 

what has become of Capitol Hill. 

properly smitey rain. 

"you bring Listen to the Warm, I'll bring the Zinfandel!"

choose your own adventure! 

there are so many sad things about this picture. 

and I cut all my hair off and bantered with the missus. 

"if a violin string can ache, then I was that string." -Nabokov