for when it’s no fun in here, being a lion….*

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.

if you’re voting in Seattle…

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.

the downside of getting what you want

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.

batten down the hatches…

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.

two bits…

…is actually four coins. so, here are four points:

1.) From Beyond the Grave!

Adam and I went to Everyday on Cap Hill this weekend (part of our getting-to-know-the-city-so-lets-walk-around-and-drink-our-way-through-seattle plan) and found a few treasures. Aside from a great Best Of George Carlin album, our hearts nearly stopped when I unconvered a copy of Ted Kennedy’s Address at the 1980 DNC!!! For $3.69, it was pretty much of a steal, especially while the flags are, by-and-large, still at half-mast. The craziest part about it? We went home and listened immediately and, almost thirty years later, it could have been coming from this morning’s NPR broadcast. Not much has changed, except that we no longer have the Lion to speak out about minorities and health care. Very eye-opening.

2.) “Someone call a Waaaah-mbulance!”

Everyone knows how I feel about the fate of journalism. Jon Stewart is, we all know, doing fabulous things for both the mainstream media and real journalism. This showcases some of the best commentary regarding Fox News (guhhhhh) and the ever-growing frenzy surrounding health care. Three cheers for Comedy Central!

3.) WTF Seattle?!

Seriously? What the hell? Ref. 71? If you don’t know about Tim Eyman (double guhhhhh) and infamous ref-gathering and signature-combing, please direct your attention here: http://ballotpedia.org/wiki/index.php?title=Tim_Eyman

Now that you’ve got some background info, see what’s the skizz here in the faux-Emerald City (Seriously! They call themselves that! The nerve!)  here: http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2009780479_apwadomesticpartnerships.html

If you’re like me (and many of you are): you don’t vote in Seattle. In my case, it’s because they won’t actually let me (coming upon four years of life paying sales tax here, not to mention multi-thousands of dollars in tuition to a state school) become a citizen of the State. Thusly, all I can do is talk to politicians at my job (www.kuow.org, we’ve got two major local politcos/hottie-hots coming into the studio on Wednesday AM) and educate my local friends. So here I am, educating. COME ON, SEATTLE. Stop overturning things that are good for you! The bag tax? Fine, whatever. But this? Jesus wants people to have end-of-life decisions and tax breaks. I promise.

4.) Our Daily Bread:

it doesn’t get any better than this guy.

 

<3 over and out.

your machinery is too much for me.

this city masquerades as something larger than it is.

like scaring off a mountain lion- it swells itself to intimidate potentially dangerous opponents.

like the citizens. roaring construction, raging inefficiencies, glaring mistakes being made by adults in every direction.

damn you, seattle. i saw your dilapidated Ross, the way you treat your poor, the way you pamper your wealthy. you’re not fooling me with the sustainable shoes in the window at macy’s, by plastic bag tax, by the light rail.

i saw your one-man-bands, your elderly, your addicted, your artists and your youth; they falter under the illuminated sign of a starbucks that is ashamed to be seen with itself. they sit on gold-leafed letters spelling out the direction of the street.

i saw the leftovers of an emergency vigil for a street kid, dead by morning and no obituary to speak of in any of the city’s papers, hosed away by a city worker. i saw tea lights in forty bottles and teddy bears in braided hemp scooped and deposited into the garbage can beside patty papers and bus transfer slips. he didn’t erase the chalk from the wall, and it hasn’t rained. i see his name on the wall of the rite aid every day.

seattle, i’m not impressed.

My own weariness amazes me, I’m branded on my feet

walking home from westlake center today, down fourth, in front of the family clinic, a deep-eyed man carrying a red bucket asked me where the exchange was.

i told him i didn’t know.
and wondered, achy-headed and world-tired, if i looked like i did.

you are home.

i live here.

“i’ve seen the future, and this all works out.”

Dear Fifteen-Year-Old-Hanna,

Job in radio. (check.)
Studio in Metropolitan Center. (check.)
Dog. (check.)

It’ll all happen for you. I promise.

Love,
Twenty-Two-Year-Old-Hanna

inspiration won’t rule the nation…

ugh seattle you’re really big and scary.
like a big scary mean angry beast with high rents and no jobs in bars for me.
and no friends and no parking.
and self-righteous yuppies in sandals who think they remember the sixties.
but if they really remembered the sixties, they’d be living somewhere other than the city of non-profits but no smiles on the streets.
no one looks at eachother,
except the lesbian in the obama shirt who said i had pretty eyes.

seattle, everyone raves for you.
everyone from somewhere in a twenty-mile radius claims you as home.

but when i walk along, marveling at the sheer volume of commerce on the streets, neck craned to see the top story of buildings full of professionals and the people who work for them, I feel a little out of place.

and i wonder,

can everyone tell that i don’t belong here?