nothing ever happens on Mars!

I was led to this site by slate.com. this guy has my dream job. the only thing that would make it better? innocently exploring the asylum by myself and discovering the suitcases by happenstance.

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/265363123/willard-asylum-suitcase-documentation

there is a sad optimism to most of these contents. i doubt anyone can truly wrap their brain around the notion of "forever", of being locked away for the rest of their life, no matter how unhinged they are. these bags were packed by people who still felt toiletries and alarm clocks and nice heels were appropriate. some of them might even still be alive...?
I've always loved the mundane and everyday aspects of photography- the forgotten backgrounds, how labels and appliances change over the years, what people surround themselves with when they want to be seen vs. when they think no one's looking. the setting is usually the most interesting part of an image: it defines a time and place and standard. I am fucking FASCINATED by the boring shit.
so I took some random un-prettified photos around my humble lair this morning. this is my world when no one's looking.

-sorry, this is not in my apartment. these are the ceiling wires in the basement of Comcast Arena in Everett.

...et ma chateau d'amour!
-medicine cabinet.
-cold storage. I typically ignore the dopey "sketchbook" feature, but I liked the way this turned out. good lines.
-kitchen windowsill-turned-fruit sticker graveyard.
-imposingly heavy and ancient kitchen sink.
-spices! including a weird "baked potato topping" mixture from Iceland! it's mostly salt and garlic powder and mustiness.
-a mere fraction of the elegant and refined library.

love in 5/4 with some sort of effects processor.

-the ave.
-Everett part 1.
-tacoma. what is in old televisions that turns their screen that sickly chartreuse color? this would be an awesome table but not for the $200 they were asking.
-ghost cat.
-my first derby! right this minute! and they played "push it" AND "ice ice baby"! I want to roller-skate and get bruises and wear badass leg coverings.
-everett x 2.
-a hoarder's house, west seattle. the "estate sale" was confined to the two front rooms; apparently the daughter was running it for her mother. this was the view into one of the non-public rooms.

until I wilt

-the rocket in beautiful downtown Bellingham.
-thanks, Entropy.
-yon seahorse! genus hippocampus, from the Greek hippos- (horse) and -kampos (sea monster)! now you know.
-a derelict barber shop in Columbia City. first time back in my old neighborhood in 11 months. nothing's changed. it was a weird feeling. I consider the Columbia City era one of the sadder portions of my angsty silly life.
-meanwhile, in a storefront window in Bellingham...
-and there are Ween fans there too!
-inside the blighted building, Bellingham. it was barricaded from the outside and the bar had been vandalized. so I went inside. right after I got this photo a light came down from the top of the stairs. penlight? gun? cyclopsian rat? "sorry! we're leaving! right now!" there are probably a lot of squatters in Bellingham. there certainly seem to be enough vacant buildings that no one's giving a shit about.
-this place also had a sign: "if you don't eat here, who will?" unfortunately they were closed.
-I lied. totally taking pictures of the damn cat.
-again.
-West Seattle. pre-arranged. thank you!
-fennel!

SHIT is an anagram of THIS.

just saw Sherman Alexie and G Willow Wilson at Elliott Bay. after the readings they took questions from the audience. a woman introduced herself as a 5th grade teacher starting a creative writing unit with her students, and do they have any advice to share?
Willow: "write something and finish it. you'll be ahead of 99% of everyone else out there."
Sherman: "write about what you had for breakfast. that totally defines your life."
and it kind of does:

he's driving, I'm riding, pissy drizzle causing the wipers to skip. his hand is on my leg, my hand is on his neck, our unspoken default. he's quieter than usual but I don't notice right away. my sentience doesn't tend to coalesce until I've eaten. I pardon myself this chronic deficit.
we sit at a table in the corner. we each have a wall to stare at, muttering small talk about the aesthetics of the various things on the table.... the salt shaker is perfect, the sugar canister sucks, ketchup used to be much thinner and the impractical bottle shape is purely based on brand recognition. coffee with cream. he takes sweetener, I don't. he leaves behind pats of butter, I avoid the onions. our waiter has tattooed fingers and plugs in his earlobes, and we don't tip him as much as we should have. Marilyn Monroe, skirt flying, smiles down on us. the silence is less, but it's still there. and after breakfast the same problems reinvent themselves, and I get a whole week alone in which to replay it.

-my first Raynaud's of the season.
-wall of fog, parts 1 and 2.
-the forbidden basement of the Rainier Brewery.
-kiwi of love.

man-bait!

-overlooking Pike Place. reflections through glass.
-Capitol Hill.
-the rrrumpus rrrroom (roll them rrrrrs) of an estate sale in Magnolia. the red glow of the Schlitz beer light! it made one's lips vanish!
-the sounds you sleep through... 11th & Pine.
-through the western windows of Pike Place (more reflections)
-filament!
-14th & E John.
-the fog deleted the southern view of downtown.
-4th & Pine.
-Olive Way.

at the aforementioned estate sale I procured a 1968 copy of the "Pillsbury's Main Bake-Off Main Dish Cookbook." it suggests mixing cooked ham, celery, and canned cherry pie filling, then baking it in a voluptuous biscuit ring. it's a "sweet cherry ham bake"!