canned champagne

I've been having more dreams about moving. in last night's, I'm in my old room in the house I grew up in, but I am the current/adultish me and it is understood that I'm moving back to Anchorage. again. and I'm leaving that night and only just "remembering" that this is even supposed to be happening. so I'm frantically packing and strangely worried about these 3 cardigans that I needed to launder before I can bring them. and I'm thinking why am I moving back? I swore I'd never move back! and it's too soon to return even if I wanted to! I'm rather horrified by this terrible decision. I remind myself of orange sunlight glinting off the inlet to try to calm myself. I don't have to live in Anchorage. I could still just live in Alaska.

based on the reality of things lately, I understand why these dreams are happening. I find myself circling the same fucking drain, as it were: expecting a different outcome from the same unsatisfying situation. and I know exactly what the underlying catalyst is (nothing to do with Alaska), which makes it even eerier in dream-form. sometimes my subconscious feels like the most fucking annoying asshole friend who's always tactlessly, cruelly right.

*

I love nearly everything about this exact particular little spot in the world. 

Cal Anderson Park. 

fog from the 45th overpass. I noticed the birds first. 

Broadway after last night's game, reprinted because I quite like this photo. I just wish the cars were about 45 years older. 

First Hill. 

for the reflections. I think this was built in 1912. 

and this was directly across the street. 

Belltown. 

"yesterday is but today's memory and tomorrow is today's dream." Kahlil Gibran