anchorage, part 2

let us begin with the 'money shot': westchester lagoon, -5F, magical ice fogginess.

point woronzof, around 5pm. i was arrested here once. i was 17 and out past curfew with an open bottle of harvey's bristol cream sherry. that was the first time my mother met my future ex-husband #1 (a classy sentence to type, i might add); the cop called her at 130am and made her pick us up. b sat stupidly in the back seat of her plymouth colt vista. "this isn't a very good first impression, is it?" he said. hooooo boy! good times. every fucking inch of anchorage has an anecdote attached to it.

i used to live two blocks away from this street (W 32nd?). actually, i lived two blocks away from it twice: once in a complete rathole bates-motel-esque apartment with pink bathroom fixtures and no hot water, and once in a fourplex with lavender bathroom fixtures that was across the hall from a convicted sex offender.
the ravens were having an eerie hootenany, which is why i took this. ravens are FUCKING AWESOME.

a typical street in beautiful spenard. note the hulking trucks, alaskan flag a-flap, and beautiful chugach mountains.

turnagain arm through the car window. i like the blur. sunshine that bright gives everything an air of gorgeous brutality.

i never went to gwennie's much when i lived in AK; it has a cheesy mediocrity about it, and the interior lights are unflattering as fuck. and most people know my story about THAT place... but it was near, and i could walk there in subzero temperatures whilst listening to firewater on my headphones, and i got to seat myself next to a beaver.
oh, grow up.

being back in seattle is lonely and sad.