ym mis Ionawr

another casualty at 12th & John. 

the alley off 16th & Denny. 

I really fucking love this building. there are a few structures in this city I've gotten all girlish and embarrassing about in posts prior; I'm going to start revisiting them. 

apparently this was built in 1907. i love the curved walls and the glass blocks- it reminds me of a university science lab. 

the wet fiver I found the other night. 

the preface of this discovery is a mortifying one: I was at QFC buying fucking lollipops (and nothing else). the self-check wouldn't take my immaculate dollar after I'd already put another one in. the guy working the area was a surly little shit who undoubtedly hates both his job and sad women like me who come in alone to grouchily buy sugar. "you can just keep it" I said when he finally came over, handing him the refused dollar and leaving the candy. and as I walked (stalked!) out of the store I suddenly realized "I just gave that guy a dollar, plus the dollar I've already put in the fucking machine, and I've got no goddamn lollipops." my assholish and abrupt tendencies often bleed over into sheer stupidity. I sure showed him. 

and then, not three blocks later, I found this. it was directly in front of my building and there was no one else around. maybe it was the universe's way of saying "fuck, do I have to pay you to make you behave like less of a wench?" 

Shorty's. 

another view from Ballard. 

Georgetown. 

through the windows of the 25. I love the 25! I've fawned over this route before. it travels through so much compressed functionality. 

the cats at Re-Store, or whatever it's called now. sometimes I go just to visit them. 

and admire the lurid plumbing fixtures. 

and shit like this. 

quality literature at the dollar store. 

I suspect many high-fives and much hackeysackery commenced after this tagging. 

her true nature. 

I had another Anchorage dream last night. I was walking east along 6th by L street, where all those parking lots are. there was a construction crane a few blocks away with a huge sculpture at the top of a man in a suit with an inane expression, tie flapping in the wind. "that's supposed to represent our mayor" someone told me. "it's a performance piece." 

then I was moving, again, that night, having packed nothing. orangey sun reflected off the puddles. "Jesus, there's hardly any snow at all" I said.