odious vanity -> vain dis to you

-okay, fine... here's the terrible license picture. I WAS NOT KIDDING. laugh away. thanks for the 'fro, genetics.
also, the ties from my sweater hood are caught in my coat. disheveled frizzy granny muppet... bleah! okay then.
...I've always had fantasies of bringing, say, a feather boa and full makeup to the DMV. the photo would capture a moment of sexy, saucy hilarity. wouldn't that be fun? instead, it's reality, amplified: crusty and sweaty after sitting in the icky DMV chairs, sallow under institutional lighting, the air scented with other people's pocketed half-burns.
-later that same day, making out with Entropy: why can't THIS be my ID?

"obsessed with the infinitely large, I had allowed myself to also become obsessed with the infinitely small..."
-Eugene Ionesco

even the Venezuelan cookbook advised against arepa.

-the towers from my lair when it's not foggy.
-when she's not "god damn it entropy" she's "the itty bitty shitty kitty."
-mo betta the jetta.
-"you should see what it looks like when you brush your hair" they said. "it'll be totally awesome" they said.
-December in seattle.
-puddles on 16th.
-I have been lazy about the roadside-television chronicling lately. they're everywhere; it's not like I've been lacking stimuli.
-more December in Seattle.
-that weird holga filter. this is the reverent view from what the apartment manager referred to as my "dining area." it currently holds a bookshelf and my CDs and a couple parasols.

"I had been a fool but to hell with it."
-Bukowski

puttin' the "wheeee!" in "ennui"

actually, the past few days have been filled with exhilarating thrills and intrigue, and I'm not being facetious! but tonight I have a couple hours to kill before the next flicker of pathos, so I'm taking photos of my favorite subjects: random mundane unprettified shite.

I like pictures of this ilk because you can probably find something in them or about them to relate to. they are, dare I pompously opine, rather humble.

oxymoroness.

-music. note the Zappa from the Seattle public library system. I owe about $120 on that one. too poor to return it.
-my lair from the toaster.
-the last lonely fry at Charlie's. I fucking hate ketchup. this is not my plate.
-a close-up of the playbill of Eugene Barnes, my great-grandfather.
-gallery of narcissism, the experimenting-without-a-flash-on-the-crappy-ikea-sofa version.
-DRY GOODS. my cupboard is the original icebox, hence the wee compartments and motor-thing. the door is magnetic. i want to abscond with this thing when I move.
someone left the nut butter here. the pickle jar holds bacon bits. want some canned soup? I can totally make you that.
-a small fraction of my many creepy, archaic, mostly un-cooked-from cookbooks. "the male chauvinist cookbook" is particularly fucking epic. i love it! it was published in the 70s, go figure.
-the refrigerator. meds, really old butter, peanuts (they're best cold), punch in a mason jar (with a bendy straw), carrots, tofu mixed with berbere spice, a really old bottle of vermouth. this is a stocked fridge for me.
-terrifying adventures with cyanotype. I am not quite so pocky.
-the playbill in its philodendron-occluded entirety.

"sentimentality is an emotion common to all humanity." frank sinatra

...the word "argonaut"... hee hee.

-Roosevelt.
-Roosevelt, again.
-the Tubs place on 50th. I love the spray caps. a guy was adding more art to another part of the building while I was walking past. I love that this hasn't been demolished yet. it's been what, two years? fuck yes.
-bus stop, 65th & Roosevelt.
-yes, I walked along fucking Roosevelt today. lord! it had been a while. so many abandoned businesses and photogenic detritus! it was lovely. the sun was at my back.
-photographing blind. I can't see fuck-all here.
-it is impossible to say the word "lurk" without sounding like someone who does creepy things like... lurk. you already said it aloud, ha!, but try it again, right now, slightly lower in pitch... you're so weird.
...I blame the schwa. schwas add an air of guttural trolliness to the most otherwise elegant of words. a schwa is the dipthong of the damned.
-NE 45th.

I sampled vanilla salt today. holy shit! if you haven't yet indulged in a similar activity, do so immediately! and if you're in the seattle, may I direct you to the phalanx of delicious salt-samples at Sugar Pill, Broadway & Pine? try their habanero salt also.

"'have you ever heard of Roshomon?'
'yes. it means through our own eyes, we see what we see.'
'well, it's all Roshomon. it's all Roshomon.'"
-camryn manheim's autobiography, believe it or not. it was up for grabs in the laundry room of my building.
Roshomon!

there's so much to do/ in the sunshine

10 song shuffle:
-waterboys "somebody might wave back"
-cypress hill "hand on the glock"
(iPhone wanted that to be "glockenspiel" so badly. wouldn't that be awesome? ja?)
-harmonia & eno "almost"
-monkees "as we go along"
-spirit "morning will come"
-jj Cale "the sensitive kind"
-seam "road to Madrid"
-do make say think "the universe!"
-box tops "sweet cream women, forward march"
-the stranglers "nice & sleazy"

-none of your beeswax!
-a photo my great-grandfather in a vaudevillian skit.
-I-5 from the pine street overpass.

I flipped through the $140 copy of "modernist cuisine" at elliott bay this evening. it was a bit ridiculous. anything that routinely uses "xanthan gum" as an at-home ingredient is immediately rendered suspect and vile. pretty pictures, though.

"can a man of perception respect himself at all?" dostoevsky

I have "take the skinheads bowling" in my head.

-Chinese lanterns from my parents' garden.
-the rainbow chased me all the way south. this is near Algona.
-15th Ave E, Monday.
-just now: getting the cat high.
-I have never had only one pet... Entropy has come into her own. she is saucy enough to be hilarious and smart enough to be infuriating... truly, an alluring combination in any mammal.
-thanksbirthday dinner was GOOD. coffee with Carolans for breakfast. meal: grilled shrimp, baked halibut, croissants, wild rice, white burgundy, pumpkin pie, bacon snickerdoodles. bloody hell, am I actually getting sentimental with my advancing age? because it was fucking AWESOME to spend a holiday doing, like, holiday shit, like most people do; I wasn't working in a loud stinky beeping maelstrom surrounded by death and blood and shit and crying and terrible things. for those who DO work in such places, who haven't let the awfulness sour them yet, who work horrible shifts so people like me don't have to: bless your hearts, and thank you tremendously.
it was really nice to spend time with my family and be a sloth and listen to good music and just fucking relax.
-tonight: hat #4 and the Entropy-pants.

for everyone who offered support and condolences and kindness about the tombs: thank you SO MUCH, so much more than I can articulate. it's still pretty raw. please know that you have helped me exponentially.

"she was shaking her head at herself, but I suspected she was a little proud of her indiscretion. didn't it prove she was spontaneous? brave? unpredictable? capable of surprising herself? maybe the ability to surprise oneself was the most necessary of tools as time marched on."
-antonya nelson

bitch magnet weather

-another hair chair. there is a bizarre surplus of animal-skin decor in my life lately... I like it.
-14th Ave.
-the old rainier brewery.
-hat-finishing elation, hereafter known as HFE.
-Georgetown.

"his wife and baby were guileless redheads, plump and freckled; they seemed afraid of me, unwilling to let my daughter baby-sit, although she offered to do so for free. she loved babies; it was what made me worry for her. who knew what awaited a girl who loved babies?"
-antonya nelson, "female trouble"