Ahhh...
Back home now. Some happy thoughts: took the route less travelled this a.m. the isosceles triangle from my house to Seattle's working waterfront. The grain elevator was silent, though, and the container-ships still. Poplars whipered, echoing the wind over my ears, but the Sound was still glassy.
I'm thinking that the salt water must be harder to ripple in the ever-so-slight breeze. I don't know why I think that, but I'm quite sure it has something to do with the weightlessness of our bodies in tropical seas.
The morning light was sneaking over Queen Anne Hill, and the clouds were just turning whispy white as I arrived at the railroad...a slightly built girl in overalls and orange-yellow goggle-glasses was filling the engines with diesel. They had a tactile, anticipatory rumble.
I'm not usually this way I swear, especially not this early in the morning, but I haven't had my coffee yet...the neurons must be pondering each and every firing, carefully.
Went to Vegas last weekend to visit my sister.
God I hate that place. Even though there's so much of me that wants to like it, wants to be able to just give in to the mindless hedonism. I spent monday night playing beer pong (beer pong!) at a casino on the strip though, which was redeeming. My sister is well, though, which is all that matters. She lives with a professional poker player, a kansan, and ex-army ranger who was shot in afganistan. There is so much material there but I'm not going to touch it. Not yet anyway.
Vegas, there's something in the air there, though I'm not sure if it's as benign as "false hope." Perhaps it's desperation, the last gasp of a way-of-life gone by.
And perhaps I'll be more reasonable after coffee.
Back home now. Some happy thoughts: took the route less travelled this a.m. the isosceles triangle from my house to Seattle's working waterfront. The grain elevator was silent, though, and the container-ships still. Poplars whipered, echoing the wind over my ears, but the Sound was still glassy.
I'm thinking that the salt water must be harder to ripple in the ever-so-slight breeze. I don't know why I think that, but I'm quite sure it has something to do with the weightlessness of our bodies in tropical seas.
The morning light was sneaking over Queen Anne Hill, and the clouds were just turning whispy white as I arrived at the railroad...a slightly built girl in overalls and orange-yellow goggle-glasses was filling the engines with diesel. They had a tactile, anticipatory rumble.
I'm not usually this way I swear, especially not this early in the morning, but I haven't had my coffee yet...the neurons must be pondering each and every firing, carefully.
Went to Vegas last weekend to visit my sister.
God I hate that place. Even though there's so much of me that wants to like it, wants to be able to just give in to the mindless hedonism. I spent monday night playing beer pong (beer pong!) at a casino on the strip though, which was redeeming. My sister is well, though, which is all that matters. She lives with a professional poker player, a kansan, and ex-army ranger who was shot in afganistan. There is so much material there but I'm not going to touch it. Not yet anyway.
Vegas, there's something in the air there, though I'm not sure if it's as benign as "false hope." Perhaps it's desperation, the last gasp of a way-of-life gone by.
And perhaps I'll be more reasonable after coffee.