pnw jellifish

At Crescent Beach on a silvery foggy morning, watching a jellyfish make its way towards the sea. Video by busysmartypants, beats by Nutritious Intention.
(*note: we've been tinkering with things, updated!)

ugly on the inside

Twice this week I've had to deal with ugliness from strangers. A good friend had to also. A diabetic panhandler called me a "fucking prostitute" for not giving her any money. A creepy old guy stared at me on the bus and followed me around the Burien Transit Center until I told him to step off. He whined he hadn't done anything and then proceeded to sit in the front of the bus we both boarded and stare at me.
My friend was happily walking near GreenLake sporting a newly-shaven head and a cool dress when a db of a guy screamed bravely from his car, "nice haircut faggot." I want to believe in good, in humanity, in selam ana fikir, but sometimes I struggle. I know people are dealing with rage and miswired brains and plain old badness.
A friend studying criminology said she was taught there are 3 reasons for crime: bad, mad or sad.
*
This picture is from Crescent Beach, on a very not-bad day spent beachcombing with my man. He was only in town for a few days but we saw friends and family, drank and danced and had homemade tater tots and my pizza and grilled zucchini and sausages and beans over a roaring fire and later tried to crack each other up with the best rip.

the farm

After a week with the fam in the 785 I feel more connected and less sure of myself.
I hang out with my cousins and aunts and uncles and little cuz's and my nearly-92-year-old gramma and I recognize kinship, in their eyes--the dark ones especially--in the backs of their hands, their laughs, a particular way of pronouncing t's.
Then I see how much like my sister my little niece is, how that even though they aren't blood-kin they most certainly share chromosomal attitude.
*
This picture is from my gramma's farm, somewhere off Highway 40, near Fairport, nearly 100 acres of mostly wheat fields. On a 90+ degree day my sis and cousin and I wandered around, looking at bits of decayed limestone foundation and surveying the endless sky.

gift

A friend-artist-actor-drinking buddy-poet-provocateur made a delivery today.

Art, for me, 5x4 and so hefty we needed a Zipcar to haul it, so weighty I can't tear my eyes away from it.

The gift is the idea, the dream, the paint and splinters and varnish, the work.

no no no nooooo

nein

yes please

Listen up, gents.
I've been noticing a lot of y'all sporting jeans shorts similar to whats on the left. Long, loose, dark denim shorts, drifting past the knee in some cases, shirt tucked in (sometimes a polo, and sometimes belted), along with flip-flops circa 1997.
This is what I have to say about all of this.
NO.
No no no no no no.
Make it stop. Please.
And take a hint from the guy on the right. Those are some pants I'd like to get into.

finally

I bought a new thermos for my writing space. On weekend days, when I'm settling in for a few hours, when I have the time to out-wait every single one of my stalling techniques--checking e-mail and fb, scanning a few favorite blogs, making lists, drawing pictures, staring at the ceiling or phrases from last year's Super Bowl Mad-Libs script pinned up on my corkboard ("chapped nipples")--finally I can settle down, pour a cup of coffee and write.
Today I got word of honorable mention in a writing contest. I want more--I want print--but it's a nice pat on the back. Yay me.
*
This amazing graffiti is an alley at University and 47th.

photobooth

A seductive shot from Chop Suey the other night.