The low turnout at the bus stop should have been the final clue. Just three men stood there, clad in hiking gear and holding umbrellas. But our American optimism was unshakable, and we were well-prepared in any case, wearing ponchos and Gore-tex boots. We looked up at the sopping clouds. “They’ll blow over,” I said.
It began as a spritz, a trickle. But as we barreled up toward the trailhead, the rain became steady. Undaunted by the walls of fog, our bus driver whipped around the curves with such indifference I wondered whether he hadn’t decided today would be his last.… continued…
I’m fond of entropy, the sight of buildings decaying, old facades, rusting metal, or neon signs. When I first moved to Seattle, I used to ride my bike through the intersection where this renovation is taking place, past drug dealers and the needle exchange and a now and then a tent revival and a place where you could buy a vibrant purple suit with wide lapels and hey, why not go with the shiny two tone shoes, while you’re at it.… continued…
- Sunset from my living room.
- Willie K show at the Triple Door
- Half B at Cafe Rozella in White Center
