the onus of autonomy

the currently empty (but mostly in the fervent process of being revitalized/gentrified) storefront project, continued:

Broadway & Pike. 

the perpetually-doomed restaurant space  on 10th & E Miller. I've never seen a business survive more than six months at this location. the adjacent establishments seem to be doing okay.
Pine & Melrose, the viscera of the former Bauhaus. 

my neighborhood. 

also my neighborhood. 

perfect time for an earthquake, I always think. would the beams splay outward, or would the whole thing crumble like a fool proposing? 

10th Ave. 

how would you describe yourself to someone else? 

x-rated neurotica

you know how little kids close their eyes and think that being unable to see their surroundings makes them invisible? walking directly into the sun as a grown-ass adult provides that same sensation. maybe it's just me.  

*

they're finally building structures that give back- that reflect their surroundings instead of sucking them into a stony 80s black hole. 

the property planning sites on seattle.gov show the different height zoning and potential daylight impact of various neighborhoods, as well as a welter of proposed and glassily angular buildings all apparently designed by the same architecture classes. it's mindsucky as fuck if you're into nerdy shit like that. 

*

a sinister storm approaches from the north and glares passive-aggressively at 12th Ave. 

hot leafless ampersand weather. 

I actually obeyed the signs and touched nothing. 

I was reading at night and looked up and my own reflection startled me. 

"all intellectual improvement arises from leisure." Samuel Johnson

the elaborate ruse

the derelict homes at 12th & John. now that the boards have been pried off (again) the smell is even more pungent: acrid burned house-flesh and decades of mold. an old building becomes a living entity, practically sentient, abscessing. 

I count six cranes in this image. 

I was lazily admiring the many knotholed trees along 17th when this one scared the fucking crap out of me. 

my city. 

another tempestuous storm over Cal Anderson! I love when public places are desolated. the ground was squishy and sodden and my boots leaked. everything smells fucking alive. 

artsy. 

14th Ave. i stopped abruptly to take this and a dude walking the opposite direction smiled at me like what the fuck? does no one else notice shit like this? 

Volunteer Park yesterday, the first sandal day of the year. ah, the gnats. the air was soft enough to be practically intangible. 

everything about this. 

John Street. 

backlit. 

it's probably not as bad for your teeth as meth.  

"sterling merit discovers itself." Molière

more things that happened

Seattle, you mercurial strumpet! thank you for behaving this weekend.

Pike Place Market.

Ballard Bridge.

there are few creatures saucier than a cemetery Corvus. 

and some dude's gravesite. 

I took this for the triumphant heron in the lower left. he stayed like that for several minutes. 

the Man In (the) Tree around hour 5. apparently his name is Cody and he's twenty-eight years old and recently moved here from Oregon. 

Helen Money. the blur was a happy fuck-up. 

shakshuka! this is the first meal to be cooked on my stove in months. the lair smelled so functional.

Ink-testing pad at the UW bookstore.

Ballard. 

Broadway. 

actually, it's probably not really fun. 

if you ever need to ask "is your country plagued by religious fundamentalists?" in German, it's "ist eure Land mit religiösen Fundamentalismus verseucht?" 

little sky country

that sunset last Sunday from Denny. sunshine through rain. I feel more sensitive just thinking about it. 

I counted 14 cranes from one vantage point the other day. 

Maple Leaf.

I forget where. 

trashcan casualties. 

an orphaned carrot on 15th. 

11th & Pine. 

today was beautiful. 

and more sexy, mysterious hydroponics. 

springing forward

we all, albeit within the constraints of society and echelons of privilege and ability, choose the lives we live and how we live them. when I think of it that way, it's fucking audacious to complain about anything, really. either change shit or don't. 

today is my 150th day without alcohol. over the past few months, whenever I've had a snively shitty day (of which there have been seemingly sundry) I remind myself that at least I have that. and while it may be pathetic to be "happy" about something that the majority of the population is shit-together-enoughy to never have to contemplate in the first place, I'm fucking happy anyway. one less way to fuck up! everything really can be that easy. 

*

these crows were audible from a block away.  

wee hydroponic root systems. 

Summit Ave. 

I love the way this turned out. but overexposure is the theme of this entire entry, I guess. 

i bought a copy of "Modern Primitives" at a moving sale today. I obsessed over this book when I was a teenager. we all did. it seems so quaint now. but in a way, doesn't everything?