quality automobiles in Ballard. the Volvo 1800ES in the background is my second favorite car after the Datsun B210.
when I was a kid, all us grimy neighborhood urchins would use boards and trash to make dams and channels in the brackish underwhelm of Little Campbell Creek. it seemed entirely possible to live there forever:
welcome to my personal island. this scene brought me back to that somehow. the boards bounced when I walked across.
this is how she rests, Al Bundy-like.
Fremont.
8th & Pine.
this has been here for
years. it's one of those things I always check for when I'm on Ballard Ave.
and a joyful experiment with the self-timer.
at some point yesterday I was walking under a herd of clamoring seagulls, and my first thought was I love that sound. seagulls remind me of wandering on beaches and dissonant weather and finding creatures under rocks and being lost in my weird head. but the actual sound a seagull makes is pretty awful, and they're usually an indicator not of seaside bucolia but of something dead nearby. behold our incongruent fucking amygdala, man.
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