The holidaze roll on. Dina Martina last week, with people I treasure; when she sang "Merry Chrishmush" my friend had his arm around me and I felt so grateful for our little posse that I couldn't help but cry a little. Not one but two Hannukkah dinners, complete with latkes and matzoh ball soup. A day of football at a fun friend/neighbor's apartment, with food and beer and laughs and smokes and a view of the Needle and downtown. The fam in town, for PNB and gifts and hanging out over pizza and bean dip. Xmas Eve drinks at the Five Point with my buddy, grieving the loss of his father. We raised a glass to the legendary old gentleman. In the background, PeeWee's Playhouse Christmas special played on the bar TV. Xmas morning pajama party at another friend/neighbor's place, egg bake and Miller High-Life and lots of laughs, before a relaxed day with my sisters and nieces and a bro-in-law and my fella. Yesterday, an unplanned walk downtown in the cold sun, thrift shopping with a pal, Campari and soda and then one more little shindig last night. Today I settle down to write and reflect.
Saturday, December 27, 2014
Friday, December 19, 2014
Listening to a friend's new mix, and it's hott.
..cough) but the drivers. Well, the drivers are maniacs. It's like a dodgeball game in the crosswalks, only SUVs the size of boxcars are hurtling at you, windows fogged over, tires screaming as they brake only just in time to not mow you down. It's energizing, and terrifying.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Also, a final good-bye to my dentist, Dr. Jeff Files, who passed away last night. He was diagnosed just over a year ago with ALS. I can hardly believe this all happened so quickly. I mourn the loss of this man; he was patient with and worked with my anxieties, did beautiful work, loved talking about his kids and his motorcycle travels around the state. He was the dentist who called the day after a tough procedure to make sure I was hanging in there. RIP Dr. Files.
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Saturday, December 6, 2014
Anyway, the monthly open mic is for poets and writers. Sometimes there's only a handful of readers and we're done by 8.30. Other times, like last week, it's more.
Last week, first-timer Scarlet read a piece, too fast but passionately, about a stoner guardian angel.
I read an excerpt from "Hard to Believe," getting enthusiastic applause when I mentioned the story would be published in March.
My buddy read a few poems, also about to be published, one so hilariously disgusting that one of the readers/Go players called, "Ewwww," grinning widely as he catcalled.
The barista/singer read from her phone, a piece inspired by The Thomas Crown Affair.
Koon Woon sat in a corner quietly until just before the featured poet. Then he stood up and shared two poems with great depth and beauty. "He won the American Book Award," someone said, and I understood why.
At the end of the night, Noel Franklin, the featured poet, performed, and her poems seemed like more than words, they seemed like her, wrought from pain and experience and love of art. Afterwards, she gave me one of her books. I said goodbye to my buddy and his new friend, a quietly fierce East Coast transplant, and caught a bus home.
Picture is from a very cold day-hike at Carkeek.