Some women seem to delight in the suffering of men. Go eat your apple, Eve. I never wanted anything but you. You, instead, take tiny bites out of me. You disarm me. Gouge my eyes out. I am blind.
Seattle is a fine city. Yesterday I ate lunch near Pike Place Market with Jenny at a greasy spoon, the definitive greasy spoon, and miraculously, she bought.
These days when people ask me where I live or where I am from or what I do the answers don't come as quickly as they once did...
Jenny is a lovely girl I met on the bus from Vancouver. The girls on the bus are always lovely. She is going back to Vancouver today, sometime. I told her I would email her last night to go out for a drink and I never did. Ah, well. Life.
The physical geography of Seattle is strikingly fantastic. I heart Seattle. I think I may adopt the city as my own though I do not know how. Last night I spent an inordinately large amount of money on cheap wine and fine beer. The Irish pub is something that has been perfected worldwide.
The alcohol was a sort of a bribe, a social lubricant for those other denizens of the house whose couch I am now crashing on, as is my fashion. This seems par for the course around here and Garrett's house may as well be called Garrett's home for wayward youth.
Garrett is a a friend of a friend and though I spoke with him from a payphone after I ate lunch and he gave me directions to his house, unlocked and open, I still have not met the chap.
This is the nicest couch I have ever had the privilege of crashing on, red with a gold floral motif, a psychologist's couch, high back at one end shrinking low to the other end.
You can see the city of Seattle proper from his house here in Wallingford, still part of the metro area. Puget sounds is as beautiful as I had imagined.
I do love the ocean. This year already I have seen the ocean in Boston and now in Vancouver, I have seen the Canadian Rockies, the American, and the Sonoran desert, high and low, as well as the San Francisco Peaks and the Grand Canyon (again).
Once upon a time.
Seattle is a fine city. Yesterday I ate lunch near Pike Place Market with Jenny at a greasy spoon, the definitive greasy spoon, and miraculously, she bought.
These days when people ask me where I live or where I am from or what I do the answers don't come as quickly as they once did...
Jenny is a lovely girl I met on the bus from Vancouver. The girls on the bus are always lovely. She is going back to Vancouver today, sometime. I told her I would email her last night to go out for a drink and I never did. Ah, well. Life.
The physical geography of Seattle is strikingly fantastic. I heart Seattle. I think I may adopt the city as my own though I do not know how. Last night I spent an inordinately large amount of money on cheap wine and fine beer. The Irish pub is something that has been perfected worldwide.
The alcohol was a sort of a bribe, a social lubricant for those other denizens of the house whose couch I am now crashing on, as is my fashion. This seems par for the course around here and Garrett's house may as well be called Garrett's home for wayward youth.
Garrett is a a friend of a friend and though I spoke with him from a payphone after I ate lunch and he gave me directions to his house, unlocked and open, I still have not met the chap.
This is the nicest couch I have ever had the privilege of crashing on, red with a gold floral motif, a psychologist's couch, high back at one end shrinking low to the other end.
You can see the city of Seattle proper from his house here in Wallingford, still part of the metro area. Puget sounds is as beautiful as I had imagined.
I do love the ocean. This year already I have seen the ocean in Boston and now in Vancouver, I have seen the Canadian Rockies, the American, and the Sonoran desert, high and low, as well as the San Francisco Peaks and the Grand Canyon (again).
Once upon a time.
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piracy:
y:
Hey! Look at that! 
You have a face! 
You have a face!