week five: shes cranky

A side note before I recap: people go on and on about how friendly Southerners are. Well miss me with that. I’ve been left on read by a couple folks here and it feels about the same as good ole chilly Seattle.

Anyway.

Week five has been quiet and sometimes lonely.

Monday the internet at home was futzy so I ran back and forth to the co-working space a few times. Tried to have a birthday call with the fam in the evening and gave up in tears after it froze for the third time. I texted my landlord and she was snippy about it. I heard her talking animatedly next door and felt so angry. Then I had an Incident in the kitchen with a possible rodent or big bug; I panicked, closed the door and got into bed, scared and tired. I didn’t sleep much. It was a really low point.

Tuesday I couldn’t sleep so got up and went for a walk in the heavy, muggy, gross morning. Saw a dead possum laying on the ground near my landlord’s trash cans, belly up and covered with flies. UGH. When I got back, I asked my landlord to come over and she did, with bug spray and news that her dog had dragged the possum inside and through her side of the house Monday night! That was the loud talking. Christ. I cleaned up and made it through a long day of meetings. Talked to a friend who may be coming to visit soon. May be. Maybe.

Wednesday and Thursday not much to report. I went for a couple of runs, bought roach traps at the hardware store, had delectable coconut cake from Bywater Bakery, tried the carrot bacon at Horn's (but felt discouraged by the neighborly chit-chat that skipped right over me), wrote, worked, missed my partner. I did meet a super nice woman who teaches CPR at my co-working space, we chit-chatted and she was so positive and encouraging when I said I was a writer. Got takeout from the Thai place on Royal but it wasn’t great,and got yelled at by a panhandler so I skipped a possible happy hour and went home.

Friday I worked and then got myself to a care facility on Elysian and assisted a documentary filmmaker with interviews with LGBTQ elders about the AIDS crisis in New Orleans. It was a privilege and also really fun to be on a set, arranging chairs, scouring the facility for pictures we could use for backgrounds, grabbing tissue when one subject wept, admiring another’s vintage diamond brooch. Afterward I helped move the gear to a storage area, got lost with the director on a rutted-out street, then relaxed and smoked a spliff. I’d thought we were going for a drink but the director was tired and distracted and the night was ebbing away so I unwisely walked in the dark down Franklin for home.

Saturday I’d hoped to museum hop but there were thunderstorms and a tornado warning all afternoon so I stayed in. Rain came down in buckets, and the wind picked up. The internet gave up the ghost at 1.30pm, not to return until 3pm Sunday. It was a long, quiet day. Friends had sent me a care package (heart eyes emoji) so I read a Neil Gaiman book and an old paperback and eventually went to bed around 9pm.
By Sunday morning, still no internets (ANGRY emoji) so I got dressed, messaged the landlord, and headed out. I walked in 70-degree sunshine to the Ogden Museum of Southern Art, passing Saints and Raiders fans decked out in gear, glitter, body paint, and costumes. A twinge, wishing I was part of the fun, but the museum was quiet and packed with amazing Southern art. Afterward I checked out some galleries along Royal, including my old favorite Antieau Gallery where I picked up 2 zines, and then Mortal Machine and their punk rock art.
Then over to Fritzel's for an incredible Irish coffee and a jazz trio, average age probably 70. (Livewire says Richard "Piano" Scott but it wasn't.)
Still no internets at home so I went grocery shopping (Community Coffee was half off so I got more chicory coffee) and then to the co-working space. Felt very down and discouraged. 
This week: hoping to volunteer at a thrift type store and pull myself together. Until then.

*

I’m trying to stay positive and not get discouraged. Most of the friends who promised to visit have gone very silent. So I’m guessing I’m alone until mid-December. It stings. I’m lonely and miss my partner and fellow-adventurer most of all. But, I’ve been finding volunteer opportunities--there’s a film festival next week and possibilities at Habitat--so I’ll do what I do which is figure shit out.

 

finding joy

Joy feels like a decision these days. To put down the phone, look away from the TV or the computer, to set the mind free and look within or to each other to find something beautiful, funny, interesting, hilarious, wonderful.

Yes, I'm trying to practice this.

This weekend I spent a few hours working outdoors, installing screen doors and pulling weeds and getting a recalcitrant grill to work (the instructions are in Korean but I found a YouTube video of course). Then I just sat for a bit in the sun. The smell of cut grass is indescribably sweet, the most delicious herbal aroma. 

Later, stuck in traffic by a drawbridge closure, I drank cold brew and listened to my favorite wrongfully-convicted podcast, Undisclosed. Then dined on vegan bacon burgers and fries with my squeeze. Not a bad few hours at all.

we're in the time

We're in the time I like somewhat best.
Rain. Cool weather. Clouds. Mist. A chilly humidity (save for the Pineapple Express that swept through a few days ago).
All variations of precipitation, and the neighborhood air smells of sodden leaves and soaked, rotting bark, earthy and fecund.
You know the true PNW'ers. We turn our faces to the leaden sky, breathe deeply, and smile.

moving

The meteoric, gaseous, ridiculous Seattle housing market hit home for me literally, as my rent has gone up 30% in the past 2 years. With this most recent hike, I called it quits on my neighborhood and the greedy Scrooges who own my building, and found another place. There are pluses and minuses, I guess. The new place is small, which means I've spent the past few weeks sorting through storage boxes that have been tucked away in closets for six plus years.
I found letters dating from my parents' ugly and painful split.
A Max Headroom mask.
107 chocolate wrappers (*).
A tiny chunk of the Berlin wall.
Journals and more journals.
Scraps of stories starring my longtime-protagonist-yet-still-unpublished Eugenia Farquharson.
My mom's jewelry box, with her collection of watches and earrings and heart-shaped jewelry.
You can't keep everything, and yet it's hard to know what to let go of.
A metaphor for life, probably, and yet I still find myself debating myself: do I really need that feather boa? The collection of Pee Wee Herman art?
Yes, probably.
Maybe.
I'm not sure.

more from the coast

Living in this city has become so stressful. I was crossing the street at the gnarly intersection near my apartment this morning and a cab nearly ran me down, despite the presence of a red light and a very large illuminated "No Right On Red" sign. I did the old palms-up I'm-exasperated gesture as the cabdriver slammed on the brakes and gestured I'm-sorry. However, the front-seat passenger screamed out the window, Calm down and shut the fuck up, at least you didn't get hit.
!!
Seriously. At 9.45am this hillbilly in a tank top and goatee, squished into an Eastside Cab with 3 fat-faced bro's in the back, is going to scream at me in a crosswalk in my own neighborhood?
So I screamed back, No, you shut the fuck up as they proceeded up the hill.
Witty repartee, I know.
I wish I'd had a better comeback.
I wish my town wasn't being overrun with classless mouth-breathers.
*
On a more peaceful note, here are more pictures from Crescent Beach last week. Everywhere you look, shady nooks made of rocks and flowers and plants and water. Delicious for the soul.