the next (next) thing: the moon in June

halfway through today I remembered my avalanche dream from last night. I'm walking along a snowy trail over fairly flat terrain, alone, feeling consciously nonchalant, and ahead of me comes a wall of grey snow. I try to remember what I'm supposed to do. isn't it strange how we're instinctively able to at least try to protect ourselves from danger even if we have absolutely no practical idea how?

I jump into the snowbank lining the path. the snow is only about a foot deep, glittery and unbroken. the avalanche hits, covering my exposed back. the snow is lighter and fluffier than I expected, gentler than it should be. I can see the sky filtering through my burial. after it passes I only have to sit up and shake off. and I get that eerie misplaced-triumph feeling... I'm still alive. I just survived a fucking AVALANCHE! that was fucking EASY!

and I do in the dream what everyone does in reality when they cheerily blunder into incredibly stupid situations and manage to emerge unmolested: I laugh, that dumb surprised "ha HA!" laugh. thankfully there is too much snow for it to inanely echo. it's dead quiet. the ground is still. and the book I was carrying is right beside me, pages splayed but dry.

Westlake Ave. check out that auger-thing! the surroundings prevented me from getting the frame I wanted. I apologize for this awful auger angle.

I finally saw my neighbor driving this. he is an authentically crusty older man, scowlingly hunched over the steering wheel with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, exactly as it should be.

antihistamines after going through the wash. antihistamines don't give a fuck.

Hayden/Roe, 1908, and the Bluff, 1909. Pike between Broadway and 10th, you know. the residences above the commercial level, long condemned, were once considered luxurious. oh, how legacies can falter! what Seattle resident doesn't have at least one skanky anecdote relating to some part of this building?