rain falls outside my window, as it's done relentlessly for the past 4 years or so. I dislike squinting, so most of the time I really do enjoy the grey morass that is seattle. it always smells good here. people are weird and everything's always soggy, but it is lusher'n fuck, and the trees are really tall n stuff. it's completely, utterly fucking with my brain and my humanity, as I've detailed in posts prior, but right now it's nice to not feel guilty about hunkering down in the lair on a shitty, fuck, JULY evening.
it wouldn't be so bad if I didn't know that it's GUARANTEED shit November-April. THIS IS OUR WINDOW, god damn it! it's been so vile for the last 3 years that I can palpably FEEL the tension, the dissonance... people here need to loll in a huge ray of sunshine, and/or to fall in passionate love. nothing else will fucking cut it.
-the unretouched photo of 2 July 2012. SERIOUSLY. I'm grateful that I'm not in a powerless hovel and it's 98 humid degrees outside, but: FUCK. wonder why do many serial killers come from the PNW?
-the missus. she's sneezing as I type this. she's still the harlot. "I fucking love you, you little secret-keeper" I told her today. she meowed and flopped and made a mucoid noise. bless her heart.
-buckets en regalia, Georgetown.
...I spend a lot of time in Georgetown.
-bring your noodle-love to the streets. sing loud, sing proud. FUCK YEAH NOODLES.
-a lot of complicated shit happened to this building, which i stumbled upon today in an otherwise nondescript alley. it has been relieved of its exterior stairwell and an upper-story door. I love it when buildings exhibit a shrugginess about their dissonance.
-Georgetown, baby.
-I made fucking shelves out of these, and so did you.
bonus points if your shelves contained a decade's worth of National Geographic.
I read this today: "love isn't something that happens to you, it's a decision you make."
I beg to differ. love is so visceral and irrational and euphoric and all-encompassing and gutting... if it's done right. who would willingly absorb that drama?
or:
"actual contact would do it in one second flat. an interspace of a millimeter would do it in ten. let us wait." Nabokov
Nice. the PNW is a strange place. It possesses this strange loneliness that makes its natural beauty more confusing than ever. What does make sense is the rot, decay and strangeness that you capture with your camera. None of this "Evergreen State" bullshit.
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