Afternoon is Seattle

This afternoon the sun came out and told me it was time to go buy a chair for the office. I listened.

I walked down to Utrecht Art store, said hello to the gray buzz cut man that helped me with the first chair I purchased for my home. Simple, I will take another one. Then I went to Bauhaus coffee, crowded with laptops and mugs. While looking for a seat, I bumped into my Top Pot friend. He works for himself and basically roams the coffee shops.

Next stop, Blue Bottle Art Gallery. The pending December visits triggered decorating binge; it’s probably reasonable after two years to finally put something on my wall. Talked the the owner for a while and found some Melissa Moss prints. I’m a sucker for small alien creatures hiding in twisted vines.

Finally, while I was headed to an unknown place that never arrived at, I heard a band doing their sound check at Neumos. I knew them, I liked them. (I'm bad at connecting the songs I love to the bands, problem of the displayless shuffle.) Walked into the attached bar and the bartender told me it was The Cave Singers. Called my friend Chris and bought a ticket for their show tonight.

Here is a photo of a place that I was not today. But it’s Seattle and that is the sun.

Knock Knock on Lisa’s Brain

So it’s been a while and I don’t know if I will post again anytime soon. However, it’s midnight and I can’t sleep.

I had this odd feeling tonight, one that I have probably felt before and forgotten. I missed myself. It’s not an unhappy sensation, just a curious one, like I was a friend I bumped into at the grocery store. A bit self-conscious about what was in my cart, counting my frozen food items.

Here is one of my back logged photos. A plane, some crystals, somewhere I was going. Or coming.

Flashback: Bearded Bunny and Disco Inferno

Photo taken by Mr. Chris or chrisversionx

I'm... I just don't know.

From an article in the Seattle PI:

"Evan McMullen of Bellevue recently rediscovered the souped-down 1959 Opel T-1 that achieved 376.59 miles per gallon in a 1973 contest. (Photo by Cosmopolitan Motors). Yes, that is Shell Oil, better known now as Royal Dutch Shell. E "

Flying Dough

Yesterday, I was sitting at Pagliacci pizza working on my homework for writing class and, well, eating pizza. A few tables to the right, was a man in his mid thirties, dressed in grey pants and a wool jacket. Thick groomed hair, he looked like an academic. Aside from how close his face was to his pasta, he appeared totally normal. As I typed, I felt him watching me intensely. He was far enough away that I wasn’t particular worried, in fact, just thought I might have an awkward attempt at a friendly conversation. However, I was relieved when he got up to leave. He stopped about ten feet in front of me and turned, looking straight into me. He tossed a small piece of pizza crust that hit the wall next to my head and said:

"Don’t you ever try to kill me again”

I didn’t touch the crust, just pushed it to the ground with my napkin. Next time I try to kill someone; I will make sure it’s at a Thai restaurant. But I was a bit shaken up after, his look was so intense. I stayed for a while, just to make sure he went along his paranoid way.

This morning, I walked over to Top Pot, through the alley as per usual. A homeless man was shuffling from dumpster to dumpster. Normally I would just wander past him, but I hung back, maybe a little affected from the pizza crust attack. He approached the third dumpster and reached for a small bag and a bit of trash near the wheels. He picked the trash up, pulled out a glass bottle and dropped the rest in dumpster. He then walked five feet to his left and dropped the bottle in a blue recycling bin.

Tracking the Tax Man

I haven’t posted to this blog lately, not out of laziness but just because I’ve been uninspired. Not depressed, I’ve actually been laughing extensively, but just disconnected. My friends and family know that the most recent inspiration has actually been political. I won’t go into great detail here at the moment – instead I’m going to focus on a byproduct of that inspiration. And since I've lost all my readers by now, I can't lose anymore by posting snoozefest financial information....

You did what with my money?

I've been thinking a lot about the connection between government transparency/honesty and motivating people to feel involved. For instance, I accept that I might not agree on everything the Federal Government 'has' to spend money on (even if it was ideal). However, with good reason and if was for the benefit of a large percentage of the population, I would be fine with it. More importantly, I would feel better if I just understood.

This led me to the conclusion that even though we pay taxes, we don't feel connected to what happens with our money because it's spoken in billions and abstract terms. We don't think of ourselves as stakeholders in the US - like any good investor in a company would.

In my searches, I found this organization. You enter in your tax for 2006 (2007 is too recent to have closed financials) and it illustrated where your money went.

http://www.nationalpriorities.org/taxchart

In addition, they have a cost of war section. I know some people that don’t support withdrawing from Iraq immediately for various reasons, but then I started thinking OK, but what would you do to support that cause.

----Would you go yourself?
----Would you send your children or grandchildren?
----Would you give $5,000 of your own money?
----Would you deny 44 million people health care?
----What about just denying health care to all the people in your class/apartment buildling/church?

And this section lets you compare that - even by city and see what the money could have done instead. I know it's not as simple as this - but it's a way to think about priorities and realize that everything is a choice. It’s the same as the choices we make each day with our own money. Unfortunately, it is not a never ending pool - and thinking like that is what resulted 19% (!) of my money going to interest on the national debt.

http://www.nationalpriorities.org/costofwar_home

Program The Moment

It’s Sunday. A late Friday night ate a good part of my Saturday, so I’m stuck with a double duty Sunday. Need to escape the apartment, so I head down to Elliot Bay. Me and my iPod. My shuffle wandering soundtrack.

Construction sites poetic or chaotic depending on the song, shoppers superficially trite or mourning the routine prison of their life. Then the dance beat, I do a contained wiggle. I remember this post from my trip in 2006.

“The first rain day, I put on waterproofing and went for a stroll with the iPod. The campground was primarily empty and the skies were grey and wooly. I skip danced around the rainy camp loops, replaying Beck's song, "Girl".

I thought about my old walk to work. There was a long light at the corner of Massachusetts and 20th, just outside Dupont Circle. If a zippy song came on, I would wiggle a little under the lamppost. Always slightly restrained, very aware of those around me. I wanted to plant a friend across the street, also under the iPod spell. The plan would go as follows:

First we nod. I do a quick shuffle, my friend returns the dance. Another few dance exchanges, then we full out boogie. Legs shifting, arms in the air, shuffling, doing the snake. The other commuters move slowly away from us. The light changes, we stop dancing immediately and cross the street. We don't talk or stop, just exchange a quick grin.”

Now I want more. A friend with a high embarrassment threshold and a good sense of musical emotion. We make a mix of contradictory songs; synchronize the start time. Private Seattle soundtrack, dancing encouraged.