before i lived in a city, i used to wonder who could possibly work and live in all of those layers upon layers of people.

like, how can so many people populate such a small, vertical space and still exist? live a life? buy dish soap and paper towels and go to the eye doctor and make tea and paint their fingernails?

now, scooting around between buildings and on busses, in a personal space of ipod and thought, i understand this:

a lot of people do these activities. they participate in commerce and vote and buy stamps and occasionally read the front page of the only daily paper in town, but rarely put the two together, it seems.

but they do these activities out of need. they do these things because if they don’t, the dishes pile up and bills change color.

they do these activities with a search for a fight in the back of their mind. the mundane nature gets to them, makes them feisty, fills them with a secret fury.

primal, animal desires take hold. a hunt begins- find someone to blame. someone must pay. someone must be at fault for the long lines at the post office, at the deli, at the library.

and god help you if you are the face they see, after waiting in line, after sitting on hold. after suffering through inefficiencies.

after listening to voices and reading print and being detained and demoralized, to be confronted by an actual face, on a living human, must come as a surprise to these people.

these people who are empty and tired and bored and irritated and angry and self-righteous and lonesome and unfullfilled.

these are the people and this is the situation that leads to the violence against vagrants and valiant law enforcers, to verbal abuse directed at messengers and manual laborers.

your anger is not my problem to fix.

my neighborhood is real ugly.

there’s a pretty rampant drug problem. the whole place smells like pee and swisher sweets. there are bones and crack baggies and broken glass in every gutter and the few planters.

everyone’s always yelling, because everyone else is yelling.

the garbage trucks are overbearing.

but there are a few things that I like about Belltown. And those are these:

1.) The Lava Lounge. It has a stupid name and is moderately intimidating and hip to look at. But on most nights, it’s fairly quiet. There’s indoor, table-top shuffle-board, Ms. PacMan, all-day happy hour on Sundays and a turntable. There’s Elliot Smith, Simon & Garfunkel, and very little lighting. It’s a good spot.

2.) Mama’s. Also on 2nd and Bell, Mama’s is just around the corner and so, so bomb. Also, the servers are usually very friendly and helpful, and there are lots of posters on the wall to keep you updated on local events. I dream of  Mama’s fish tacos.

3.) The 5-Point. What a gem. A true watering hole, in that you can get an adult beverage almost any time. And you can get a big nasty sandwich actually any time, as the place is 24-hours. It is also extremely dark and has been around for quite a while. It’s grimy and prides itself on taking advantage of “drunks and tourists.” All this while set against the lovely background of the corner at 5th and Cedar. Really hope it’s not actually closing.

4.) Olympic Sculpture Park. At the fringe of Belltown on the Waterfront, this is the only place I really like to run in my area. It’s just beside Myrtle Edwards Park, which is a nice expanse of grass with an awesome view of the Sound. There are ridiculous sculptures and a lot of people taking eachothers pictures. And, if you’re caught there just before an electrical storm, your hair will stand on end. Really!

5.) Regrade Dog Park. This is my dog’s favorite thing about the neighborhood. Just a block from where we live, and across the street from possibly the ugliest bar I’ve seen in the Pacific Northwest, the little patch of gravel and sickly trees used to be a pretty well known hotspot for crack dealing and other unsavory activities. Enter the dogs, exit the tweakers. Now, it’s usually populated until a little after dark by quiet old women with AKC-certified “babies” from the nearby high-rises. I think it’s kind of them to let my mutt and I in.

So, there you have it. The good parts of Belltown.

All five of them.

*Points if you get the reference.

Yes to:

Mike McGinn

Dow Constantine

Mike O’Brien

Ref. 71 (because marriage is a civil right, you fuckers)

No to:

Joe Mallahan (giving cell phone minutes to the poor is NOT ENOUGH)

Susan Huchison (could your friend’s drunk mom from Bellvue run the city? No? Neither can this woman.)

Robert (Roger? Forgetable Face Behind Glasses?) Rosencrantz

1033 (can you honestly vote for an Eyman initiative and sleep soundly at night, Seattle? No. You can’t.)

Now don’t pull a Mallahan. FUCKING VOTE.

MICHELE BACHMANN IS SO WORTHLESS.

so, so worthless.

what a heinous woman.

in other news, I’m getting really fat on pledge snacks.

listen to this interview with Sherman “Spread Too Thin” Alexie:
http://www.kuow.org/program.php?id=18538

then, watch this amazing video about diabeetus:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3R7tSSN2fHc

then, go back to KUOW.org and pledge your support:
www.kuow.org

then, peep this photo and get your daily dose of Indi (photo courtesy of Adam, as usual):

over+out.

i’m taking my vitamins and doing push-ups and training because the winter is coming.

the winter is coming, and with it, the increased energy bills, the assault of inclement weather, the rainwater wicking up the back of my denims, the darkness (and more darkness and perpetual darkness), the onslaught of debt-collectors calling regarding my college loans….

…this year, i don’t even remotely look forward to the winter.

and i’ve got to get out of the middle of the city.

the man whistling down his man from his apartment on the corner, the never-ending stream of garbage trucks, jackhammers and other grinding, grating sounds on the alley, the absolute lack of police presence in my neighborhood (and saturation just four blocks south, at the base of the Andra or the Metropolitan buildings) is stripping my nerves.

booooooo.

you are so freaking COOL.

even when you pass out before 7 pm.

__________________________________________

speaking of cool, more people need to brush up on cool ladies who make awesome comics.

por ejemplo:

Francois Mouly is married to Art Spiegelman, but she’s also a totally incredible artist in her own right.

also, Posy Simmonds, who is equally amazing and equally underrated. (here’s her profile @ read yourself raw: http://www.readyourselfraw.com/profiles/simmonds/profile_simmonds.htm)

so get to snappin’!

yesterday i remembered the last time that we saw each other, which is to say, the last time that i saw her, and she recognized me.

i told her i’d fly back soon, two months tops, to see her, and maybe for her/their birthday.

and monty, clever as always, made a crack about how i couldn’t fly, because where were my wings?

and she, actually welling up as if the emotion of the sentiment was so overwhelming it had to come from her eyeballs as well as her mouth, told him

“of course she has wings. you just can’t see them. she’s an angel.”

and that’s how i chose to remember her.

i think you are radiant.

between you and indiana, there’s never been a warmer september.

what a terrible time of year to come home to an empty (plus dog) house every day.

what a particularly awful week to be without one’s family.

what a lonesome place this city is.