yesterday rained like hell.
this is my lair through the windsheild.

cliche of cliches: i go to cemeteries when i need to think extra-hard, or when i'm feeling self-indulgently morose. i like cemeteries; they're usually quite quiet and pretty. i always feel like a fucking interloper when i'm at them, guilty for not yet knowing enough dead people who don't believe in cremation, and therefore not visiting anyone specific- like i'm only at a soiree for the free snacks. i like the one on top of queen anne; it has entire sections devoted to different cultures, and crumbly imposing headstones, and once i was there (i was sitting on a bench by myself doing sudoku, don't fucking judge me) and a westie ran towards me, full-tilt, across the entire grounds, stopped about twenty feet away, and then ran in the opposite direction. no humans were around. it was weird.
cemeteries also have copious crows. ever noticed?
evergreen-washilli (?) on aurora, 4 january 2012.

i like the sodden griminess of the first filter, but sometimes you have to snazz things up a bit.

if my wishes aren't granted and i end up rotting in the dirt somewhere, i hope some sulky dork comes by sometime and takes a picture of my burial grounds and uses a cool filter.
a dignified sedan drove through at that point, and i was drenched with rain, so i sedately left.
*
5 january 2012: inside a (long-term vacant) warehouse in ballard. i stood on a chunk of wobbly cement in an alley and leaned against the building to take this. i love the light.

shilshole way.

snazzified!

10 years later, i still feel like a fucking tourist in this town.