a get down pandemic party

The election celebration party on Capitol Hill yesterday was a real 2020 event: car-heavy because covid-19, hundreds of folks in masks, at turns defiant--FDT blasted from many passing speakers--jubilant and honestly just fun.

We haven't had a lot of fun these past few months. 

After reading the news yesterday and a host of frantic phone calls, texts and messages, I tried to write, and gave up around noon. I stopped by the Protect Every Person event at Westlake, and then walked up the hill to where I was pretty sure some celebrating would be happening. I spent most of the next 7 hours outside.

Pine St, and then Pike, were a constant stream of cars, honking, music blaring, drivers beaming from ear to ear, flashing peace signs, victory fists. People hanging out of windows, standing up through sunroofs, one guy (inadvisedly) sitting Marshawn-like atop a car. There was a T-rex with a Black Lives Matter sign, a unicorn with a BLM flag. Everyone it seemed had quite literally brought their dog. From Subarus with big fluffy pooches to beater cars and tiny Chihuahuas to Teslas empty of all but drivers and high tech screens, the parade of cars was ringed on both sides by cheering celebrants, waving flags, homemade signs, Biden/Harris signs and flags, and open bottles of bubbly. Drunk girls hair-flipped and danced. Two young Muslim women held a sign saying Muslim Americans are here to stay and cried when we cheered for them. A UPS van drove slowly  through and was mobbed, briefly, by people cheering and whooping and clapping. A Latino family with Puerto Rico flags stood with their kids and watched the happy crowd. A reporter from Kiro 7 interviewed my friend.

A pedicab driver played Nipsey Hustle and Queen and chauffeured tired people around the scene. The Marshall Law Band arrived on their pickup-truck stage and played a half dozen songs. They reminded us that yesterday wasn't an end, but a new front in this battle to effect lasting change.

There were a couple of bitter betty's out there but it was a mostly cheerful crowd, although there was a shooting much later in the evening. CHS captures the news better than I can. I did see a group of black-clad protesters attempting to burn an American flag and yes I'm aware that there is anger in the daily protester community, wondering where all us folks are night after night. I want us to do better with sustained protest. I want to remain engaged in upending this racist, classist system. I also think people just needed a few hours to celebrate and feel the tiniest flicker of hope.

On the walk home, I saw Kamala Harris' image projected on the cement walls of the East Precinct. Madam Vice President!

the pho department

 

For some reason this little cart has been parked around the hill recently. I saw a similar one at Pho Bac that said Pho the Police.

placeholders

Something has been on my mind for awhile. I'm suddenly in a phase where a lot of my friends are in serious relationships and have disappeared. Gone, down the s.o. wormhole.
No more aimless roaming around town.
No more $5 shows, a quick smoke in the parking lot on the corner, and a loud dirty band in a dive bar.
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Where I invite a pal to hang out and they have to check with the s.o.
Where I invite a pal to hang out and they show up with the s.o.
Where I feel like a third wheel.
Where even if the s.o. doesn't come with, all I hear about is the s.o.
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Where I get "we'd."
"We're in."
"Oh, we love that."
"We had a busy weekend, better not."
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I am happy that my pals are getting loved up.
I really like most of the s.o.'s. Not the mean ones, or the ones that pick fights. But most of them are rad people!
It makes me feel like somewhat of a placeholder. When they were single and had free time it was fine to hang out.
But now they're busy.
Now they hang out with other couples, maybe go to brunch.
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They'll be back, I guess. Once the shine's off the apple.
Maybe?
If there's kids though, then it's over. See ya in 18 years, losers.

giffin it

via GIPHY

four days, three shows

I went to three shows in the past four days and even for me that's over-achiever status.
Tuesday was Kendrick Lamar at the Tacoma Dome, on his tour for DAMN. He kept it simple and real, on a plain stage with stark lighting and unadorned, yet rich, costumes. So powerful in his confidence.
Wednesday was a quick stop at the vegan-metal bar The Highline to hear Pisswand, a pal's metal band. Loud. Raw. So good.
And yesterday, a brave jaunt into the muggy, smoky, post-workday heat to sweat on a grassy hillside and see Summer Cannibals at Seattle Center. The band has an intriguingly rough sound offset with PNW cool. Despite the armpit-like environs, they shredded and I enjoyed it.
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C'est tout. My pictures are blurry, and honestly it's a miracle there are any, because I get so caught up in the show I nearly always forget to take out my phone, and they always look pretty much the same, anyway. Thanks to the good friends who made this a delightfully musical few days. I'm taking a breather. Rock on, y'all.

Change is change is

So much is in flux at the moment, and I don't just mean the big bad world.
Preparing for big changes out on the coast, letting go of a treasured object because the object is failing and because if I don't, there will never be room for improvement.
And...I'm moving in a few weeks. Two rent increases over the past two years of 30% are kicking me out the door. I found a new spot, it's smaller but in a more vibrant, arty area, so I'm trying to be okay with it.
I've been cleaning out my closets, donating clothes and shoes to Goodwill, recycling and composting and leaving treasures in the laundry room downstairs.
Among the old mortgage documents and receipts and mementoes from past travels, I discovered documents from a painful time in my family's history--documents I'd forgotten I ever even had.
Words from the past, excuses and evasions.
I found my mother's wooden jewelry box and opened it. I touched a watch and a pair of earrings and her perfume wafted out and I breathed in deeply.
Then I closed the box up tightly, not wanting that familiar smell to fade away.

80/20

At work we frequently use the "80/20" rule, which means that you can't fix everything and sometimes you have to focus on a solution that resolves 80% of the problem and not waste all your time on the 20%.
The world seems to have gone mad, or maybe we are getting what we deserve, I don't really know, but today I want to focus on the good stuff.
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I was lucky enough to get to a couple of farmer's markets this week. It's been a mild summer and we are beyond fortunate to enjoy scrumptious vegetables and fruit--I scooped up Nash's first carrots of the summer, along with plump cauliflower heads and a big bag of broccoli, amazing garlic from Jarvis (Spanish Roja and Polish Hardneck), lovely fresh-picked peaches, green beans, zucchini, corn, and a big box of Mutiny Bay blueberries.

Yesterday I bused over to the Seafair Pow Wow at Discovery Park (at the Daybreak Star Indian Cultural Center). All around, people greeted friends, an SPD officer mingled with the crowd and got in line with us for frybread with honey, a giggling couple let me help with their frybread selfie, vendors sold drums and bundled herbs and t-shirts and the line for plank-grilled salmon stretched dozens long. At 7pm the Coastal Grand Entry began, dancers and performers in their tribal regalia proceeded into the big grassy circle, in front of elders and drummers and hundreds of viewers. I wept a little. Despite the mass murder and deprivations we've inflicted upon our tribes for centuries, they persist, they thrive, and this weekend, they celebrate.

And in music: a couple of weeks ago I went to a show at High Dive with some friends. Ever So Android was the headliner and they slayed (and I realized the female half of the duo works at one of my favorite coffee shops!). The second opener tho--Monsterwatch--wow. I wouldn't identify myself as a metalhead but I heart these kids. There was crowdsurfing, a smallish mosh pit, and at one point, the lead singer flung himself to the floor between me and one of my buddies, continuing to play guitar and sing as he lay there. I lost half my whiskey when he wrenched himself back to the stage, but it was a fun night of abandon and a great show.

calibr-8

I'm feeling like a failure and it's not just the raft of rejections for the story I'm sending around (however motivational rejection may be, it's still a "no").
I want to be a better person, writer, sister, aunt, girlfriend, friend, whatever, and against all measuring sticks I feel like I'm coming up way short.
It's been a tough few days for connections.
It's been a time of loneliness and introspection--not unwelcome visitors for the writer, but still.
It's time to assess, re-assess, calibrate.
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Good things I have done for myself:
Keep on writing.
Video chat with fam.
Cook up a bunch of golden beets and sunchokes and buckwheat soba noodles.
Oh and these raw cookies made of oats and chocolate and almond butter.
30 minutes of restorative yoga for knees and hips and spirit.
The contemplation, however, is nearly, almost too much. 

the struggle it is real

Last week's Free Will Astrology brought me to tears. I read it in the back of The Stranger, on the bus home. What do my heart and soul have to tell me? I'm doing a pretty good job of tuning them out.
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Right next to my keyboard at work, I keep 3 things: an acorn, a tiny gold buddha, and a paper on which I wrote, "is it true? is it necessary? is it kind?"

laterz May

Another May in the can. I've been living hard lately and it feels good. That said, it's been a tough month in other ways. A guy I know (and who's good friends with my fella) did something truly awful and devastating. It's impossible to wrap my head around. The line between living hard and irreversible bad decision is pretty fine, I think.
May started off funky, drinks at the new Comet (meh) and then getting sweaty with Eldridge and Lady Gravy. My niece came back from Florida and we hung out for a hott second. I spent a weekend at my place on the coast with my fella--3 days of mowing, chopping wood, clearing brush--and also a roaring fire pit, grilling farmer's market deliciousness and getting deep hard sleep out in the woods.

Back to the city and a giggly movie night with a friend, I couldn't tell you what Transcendence was about but my soul needed the laughs. The next night--the new X-Men movie and drinks after at Kangaroo and Kiwi, seated in the Mayor's booth (inadvertently) with good friends. An M's game the next day, rainy and dull, but the day was rescued with a few hours at the Market Arms with my fella's folks and a good friend, we played pool and sipped Irish coffee. Then dinner at Ray's! On Memorial Day, I looked at Dusty's journal and thought about how much I miss him. Every day. I got to hang out with my sis and Hammy, got pedicures and goofed around. The much-anticipated Gaga show was canceled last week, so my pals and I hung out on the Hill. Later, I learned about biscuits from a friendly dishwasher. A neighborhood friend and I kicked off our first-ever (and hopefully to be repeated) LQA shitty-bar-hop, with a delicious Decatur prepared by her man, and headed to the dueling piano bar  for whiskey gingers in buckets and a selfie with a good-natured visitor from DC. Friday--a day off!--some lazing around, iced coffee at Uptown, then picked up my niece for a Rudy's haircut, then backyard BBQ down south. The coals were ready long after we were but oh wells. Ballet yesterday--how did Hammy get so poised and lovely?--and capped off the month/week/night with funk and friends in Wallingford.
I need to write more--think more--feel more--photograph more--June: you will be mine.

April in the rearview mirror

A good month. A wet one and it started off with my favorite holiday, April 1st! I pulled a couple of minor pranks. Did not get fired. Win. First Thursday, I made it to Spoken Word open mic up at the Couth Buzzard. I felt pretty good about the piece I read until this itinerant slam poet couple got up after me to perform intense pieces about sexual abuse and--well, mostly abuse. But they were young and beautiful and had self-published 'zines to sell. My friend and her visiting Norwegian writer-biker bf bought their work. So then I felt like a big old square. The same friend had a bunch of us over for games the following night--pizza, beer, brownies, and cards. Cards. And later, whiskey. Then, Dina Martina that Saturday with my sis, a creative pal and her filmmaker sister. I enjoyed Ms Martina's video show but I have to say I prefer the live performances. One of my besties from early divorce days held a going-away party that Sunday the 6th at his art space, and it was poignant to see him and his Mom and the gang from back in the day, realizing that none of us had seen him in a long while. That week was laid back, drinks with a pal in Fremont, a co-workers going away party. A final farewell dinner that Saturday for the moving bestie--baked ziti and wine and heavenly angel pie and lots of laughs. I managed to look dead on at things I've previously glanced past--the odd habit, or way of catching me off balance. Even so..I miss this guy and probably always will. Sunday the 13th was my mom's birthday (66!), and an Odesza show later on. Unfortunately, it was a sold out, underage, pissy crowd. The music was good but the vibe was not, so we left earlyish (midnight) to get cabs. A few days later, a friend going on vacay and in need of a housesitter hosted me and my fella for dinner--spinach lasagna and wine and getting to know the menagerie. Later, a pitcher of beer and pool at Viking Lounge, and plans for karaoke some night when tequila is not out of the question. I met up with my old homeskillets for trivia a few days later--a cocktail before with a good pal, then a middling trivia performance later, although we killed it on the picture round! My knowledge of 1940's film stars finally paid off. A good buddy couldn't join as his dad is seriously ill and has either been in hospital or assisted care the past few weeks. Salut. I've already written about the last Saturday in April. A strange event which continues to ripple in my mind. April closed out with a dogsitting assist--Wiley and Jack are seriously cute even with dried out dingleberries. And a jewelry party at a friend's down in Renton--I'm too broke to buy expensive gems but it was a delight to sip wine and catch up with old friends.
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One other revelation: a pal seems to be heterophobic. Specifically, stops hanging out with hetero friends when they get into relationships. Is this a thing? None of my other friends make a big deal about me bringing my fella along on occasion to group events. But this one wants to control it. I'm sad. But, resigned.