hott city

It's been hot in Seattle. Hot and dry after a non-winter. We've had 80-degree days and it's only May.
People here get sun-crazy. On the train ride home last night, the guy behind me spent most of the trip on his phone, trying to get a ride from whatever station was coming up next, all conversation conducted in a loud urgent monotone. Across the aisle, two pairs of nerds in My Little Pony backpacks loudly debated Simpsons versus South Park. Merciful arrival at Westlake, transfer to a bus, where a contingent of drunk, still-drinking men lay across the back seats and talked belligerently, so much so that the driver got on her scratchy intercom and asked them to knock it off. Which of course made them more irate, and scream even louder. The guy sitting in front of me turned around to ask me for a dollar. Seriously, dude? I declined. One of the angry men lurched forward, yelling for the driver to let him off the bus and calling her a bitch.
I looked outside at the hazy moon and wished for rain.

sunday soundtrack

new art

I put up new art this week by John Malta. Found it at Flatcolor's April art walk. Gosh, this picture makes me happy. I'm running out of wall space but--first world problems, somehow I will go on.
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Uncertainty on so many fronts. I worry that the climate is fucked and as humans, repeatedly and enthusiastically shitting where we eat, so to speak, we kind of deserve whatever is coming. Kids don't, and they're the ones who will be around to clean up our mess. So much violence and hate. I try to balance the news with funny stuff (Broad City, holla!) and creative stuff. Hence the new art, and also because it scratches some itch, apparently. Closer in, I puzzle over a familial relationship that I wish was stronger but just isn't, and I have no idea what to do. The new shrink wants to work on intimacy and intellectually I guess I want to but realistically, no, the walls are working for me just fine, thank.
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Busysmartypants is making a go of it on Twitter. Lots of cool cats and interesting chats happening there, vs the smarmy brag-fest of facebook. I'm no Twitxpert but I'm feeling my way around. Check me out, say hi, heckle, share, whatever.

danielle is a hottie

Seen on the wall at the College Inn ladies.' I wonder if anyone's studied the graffiti on the women's bathroom walls in dive bars. It's always an entertaining and emotional narrative.
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Illing this week. Hoping to be healthy again soon.

martineken

the weirdest

Shows two nights in a row this week. At the Crocodile, Rust on the Rails made me a fan, with two barefoot, lumbersexuals on violin, guitar and didgeridoo, another beardy guy singing, just a soulful, rhythmic sound. Then Tango Alpha Tango blew it up. Spotted down front, Ayron Jones, hanging out with a tall brunette. The next night, Eldridge Gravy and the Court Supreme, fronted by a tight, energetic super-mariachi band Banda Vagos. En route to the show, our bus was diverted onto a pre-emptive May Day re-route, so we abandoned ship and walked up 12th Avenue, helicopters crackling and hovering overhead, and came around the corner by the SPD precinct, suddenly confronted with an alcove stuffed with riot cops.
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Pictured, graffiti from the ladies at the Five Point.