I wandered away from the beach and ended up lost on a snow field. Despite my vow to blog every day, I found it difficult to type when my fingers were like ice. A golden retriever (accompanied by a nice man) led me back to the trail and I made it back home eventually. Needless to say I didn't blog.
However, I do have a date for coffee on Thursday.
09 February 2011
07 February 2011
solo perche solo piu verde del verde
In which I go shopping in a public restroom.
I arrived at the cafe in the middle of a hail storm. It had been sunny when I left home, but now I dashed in the door wet and pelted by tiny pieces of ice.
I had decided to spend the morning in the coffee shop"working". Midway through my latte, a couple of blogs, and a few facebook perusals later I needed to use the restroom.
The restroom is a shade of pale green and has the words "solo perche solo piu verde del verde" painted on the wall. I do not know what this means exactly. I put it into an online translator and it came out with: 'only because it's only green of the green' I think some meaning and all of the poetry must be missing in the translation.
Which reminds me of a certain house I discovered on Queen Anne. The turret of the house, yes turret is inscribed with the latin phrase: 'quo amplius eo amplius' which never quite translates very well for me.
You can find some photos of the house on line at
http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Amplius_Eo_03.jpg and http://www.43places.com/places/view/794003/2018-nob-hill-ave-n-queen-anne-seattle
I first encountered this house late on a moonlight night, but that is another story....
Back in the bathroom, as I sat on the toilet, I noticed that the artwork on the wall had a small tag below it that stated the the photograph was for sale and if one wished to buy it one should write a check, take the artwork off the wall and pay for it at the front counter. (It probably should have said something about washing one's hands first) I was not at that time in a position to write a check, so when finished I wandered back out to my table/workstation and looked up the artist on the internet. The photo in the bathroom was a pleasant close up of a rhododendron. The photos on the artist's website, RJB photography were, all women posing in retro pin-up fashion, lounging on motorcycles or muscle cars. I wondered how he had ended up with the flower shot. I decided to buy the idiosyncratic photograph on a whim and that is where the trouble began.
Firstly, I had difficulty removing the photograph from the wall. The wire in the back seemed to be caught on the nail and I could not manage to untangle it even when I stood on the toilet lid. I looked around for something to pry the wire loose to no avail. Then I had a stroke of genius, I opened the tank on the back of the toilet and removed the long skinny wire that connects the flush lever on the outside of the toilet to the actual flushing mechanism at the bottom of the tank. (The flushing mechanism is called a "flush valve flapper". I know this because my mother's youngest sister was a plumber for awhile after she divorced her millionaire husband and before she went off to be a stock broker on wall street.)
With the wire "chain" I managed to reach the painting wire and un-stick it from the mounting on the wall. Unfortunately, the photograph came loose so quickly that it flew into the water tank. The photograph was undamaged but a significant amount of water was displaced. Due to this unfortunate principle of physics I had to spend quite a bit of time with paper towels in the bathroom. When I was finished (and had washed my hands) I opened the door to see a line of 3 people waiting anxiously to use the restroom. With a red face I exited the restroom and carried my photograph to the counter. (Only later did it occur to me to wonder why there had been a guy waiting in the women's restroom line).
In the end I decided that the photograph was really only mediocre and I hung it in my bathroom at home- NOT over the toilet however.
I arrived at the cafe in the middle of a hail storm. It had been sunny when I left home, but now I dashed in the door wet and pelted by tiny pieces of ice.
I had decided to spend the morning in the coffee shop"working". Midway through my latte, a couple of blogs, and a few facebook perusals later I needed to use the restroom.
The restroom is a shade of pale green and has the words "solo perche solo piu verde del verde" painted on the wall. I do not know what this means exactly. I put it into an online translator and it came out with: 'only because it's only green of the green' I think some meaning and all of the poetry must be missing in the translation.
Which reminds me of a certain house I discovered on Queen Anne. The turret of the house, yes turret is inscribed with the latin phrase: 'quo amplius eo amplius' which never quite translates very well for me.
You can find some photos of the house on line at
http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Amplius_Eo_03.jpg and http://www.43places.com/places/view/794003/2018-nob-hill-ave-n-queen-anne-seattle
I first encountered this house late on a moonlight night, but that is another story....
Back in the bathroom, as I sat on the toilet, I noticed that the artwork on the wall had a small tag below it that stated the the photograph was for sale and if one wished to buy it one should write a check, take the artwork off the wall and pay for it at the front counter. (It probably should have said something about washing one's hands first) I was not at that time in a position to write a check, so when finished I wandered back out to my table/workstation and looked up the artist on the internet. The photo in the bathroom was a pleasant close up of a rhododendron. The photos on the artist's website, RJB photography were, all women posing in retro pin-up fashion, lounging on motorcycles or muscle cars. I wondered how he had ended up with the flower shot. I decided to buy the idiosyncratic photograph on a whim and that is where the trouble began.
Firstly, I had difficulty removing the photograph from the wall. The wire in the back seemed to be caught on the nail and I could not manage to untangle it even when I stood on the toilet lid. I looked around for something to pry the wire loose to no avail. Then I had a stroke of genius, I opened the tank on the back of the toilet and removed the long skinny wire that connects the flush lever on the outside of the toilet to the actual flushing mechanism at the bottom of the tank. (The flushing mechanism is called a "flush valve flapper". I know this because my mother's youngest sister was a plumber for awhile after she divorced her millionaire husband and before she went off to be a stock broker on wall street.)
With the wire "chain" I managed to reach the painting wire and un-stick it from the mounting on the wall. Unfortunately, the photograph came loose so quickly that it flew into the water tank. The photograph was undamaged but a significant amount of water was displaced. Due to this unfortunate principle of physics I had to spend quite a bit of time with paper towels in the bathroom. When I was finished (and had washed my hands) I opened the door to see a line of 3 people waiting anxiously to use the restroom. With a red face I exited the restroom and carried my photograph to the counter. (Only later did it occur to me to wonder why there had been a guy waiting in the women's restroom line).
In the end I decided that the photograph was really only mediocre and I hung it in my bathroom at home- NOT over the toilet however.
February, but we have faith that someday the sun will return.
I looked out my window this afternoon to see the large winter tree blooming in song birds. Little bitty grey-brown personages flitting from branch to branch, hanging upside down and filling the tree with life normally reserved for another season. The tree reaches up high above the neighbors two story house and every part of it is full of these small chirpers. I don't know why they have decided to congregate in this particular tree, but here they are.
18 January 2011
In the tea shop
I come here to work on grey days in part for the community in part for the voyeurism. The peculiar older man who is always here asks me what I am reading currently. He has started an informal book club with some of the women and another man who frequents the shop. At the table next to me a couple chats almost imperceptibly bickering. She is playing a game on her cell phone the entire time they are having tea. Their conversation in friendly, natural but suddenly rises into tension and then disperses. She wants to buy a tea cup like the one in the shop. He thinks they should use what they have rather than buying new stuff. She thinks the problem is the lack of storage. He doesn't like the new storage rack she wants to put in. She thinks his idea would be bad because of the cat. Mundane. But laced with irritability.
14 January 2011
Paranoia
That bird is back. It is dark out side, but when I went out to empty the trash there was a raven in the bare tree across the street. Still, roosting perhaps, but one eye open. Watching me. I could swear he was smirking at me.
10 December 2010
Ballard Bridge Blues
Part I
In Which I Complain
There is a billboard on the south end of the Ballard bridge. (Well actually there is one on both ends of the bridge). The one in question has a picture of a Toyota mini van and it says " VANquility"*.
It makes me want to bang my head against my steering wheel.
But I don't because then I might loose control of the vehicle, veer into oncoming traffic and then drive off the bridge into the water or possibly land top of the "deadliest catch' fishing boat (as seen on TV- the fishing boat, that is).
Or it might just hurt my head, and the advertisement already hurts my head enough as it is.
After several weeks of starting at the billboard sitting in back to back traffic every time the drawbridge went up I began to concoct a plan.
It was a daring, devious and slightly illegal plan. But it was done to save my sanity (and 'the deadliest catch').
Also, I had just read the "Monkey Wrench Gang" by Edward Abbey.
Yes, my friends, I concocted a plan to perform the second act of vandalism of my otherwise well bred existence. (peeing in the park does NOT count).
* Toyota wants you to know that by buying their product you will also be purchasing 'peace of mind**' There will be no nasty recall with this product, the breaks will not malfunction and you will not loose control of you vehicle and veer into oncoming traffic and drive off the bridge.....
** 'peace of mind' is actually a little hippie/elf version of yourself that lives in the trunk of your car with rainbows and unicorns. I know this because I saw it on TV.
---------------------------------
Part II
In Which Some Art Happens
I really like the muralist Henry. You, know the one whose paintings are scattered through Fremont, Ballard and elsewhere?
http://www.seattlepi.com/visualart/400609_muralist19.html
Well it is irrelevant, I suppose, because Henry is a well known muralist and would probably not consent to being part of an obvious act of vandalism. It was a good idea though....
My friend Priscilla is a pretty good artist though, and her boyfriend has a really big ladder and some window washing equipment.
At first we wanted to paint right over the advertisement, Banksy style, but Priscilla said, no, no way could she do that and make it look good with out getting caught. And the point was to make it look really good. Actual art, not just graffiti.
In the end we made several large strips of painting that Priscilla and Scott glued over the advertisement at 3 in the morning while wearing "official" dayglo orange vests. I held the ladder.
It lasted for about a day. Now I think there is a an ad for beer up.
But. It was really beautiful for a day.
In Which I Complain
There is a billboard on the south end of the Ballard bridge. (Well actually there is one on both ends of the bridge). The one in question has a picture of a Toyota mini van and it says " VANquility"*.
It makes me want to bang my head against my steering wheel.
But I don't because then I might loose control of the vehicle, veer into oncoming traffic and then drive off the bridge into the water or possibly land top of the "deadliest catch' fishing boat (as seen on TV- the fishing boat, that is).
Or it might just hurt my head, and the advertisement already hurts my head enough as it is.
After several weeks of starting at the billboard sitting in back to back traffic every time the drawbridge went up I began to concoct a plan.
It was a daring, devious and slightly illegal plan. But it was done to save my sanity (and 'the deadliest catch').
Also, I had just read the "Monkey Wrench Gang" by Edward Abbey.
Yes, my friends, I concocted a plan to perform the second act of vandalism of my otherwise well bred existence. (peeing in the park does NOT count).
* Toyota wants you to know that by buying their product you will also be purchasing 'peace of mind**' There will be no nasty recall with this product, the breaks will not malfunction and you will not loose control of you vehicle and veer into oncoming traffic and drive off the bridge.....
** 'peace of mind' is actually a little hippie/elf version of yourself that lives in the trunk of your car with rainbows and unicorns. I know this because I saw it on TV.
---------------------------------
Part II
In Which Some Art Happens
I really like the muralist Henry. You, know the one whose paintings are scattered through Fremont, Ballard and elsewhere?
http://www.seattlepi.com/visualart/400609_muralist19.html
Well it is irrelevant, I suppose, because Henry is a well known muralist and would probably not consent to being part of an obvious act of vandalism. It was a good idea though....
My friend Priscilla is a pretty good artist though, and her boyfriend has a really big ladder and some window washing equipment.
At first we wanted to paint right over the advertisement, Banksy style, but Priscilla said, no, no way could she do that and make it look good with out getting caught. And the point was to make it look really good. Actual art, not just graffiti.
In the end we made several large strips of painting that Priscilla and Scott glued over the advertisement at 3 in the morning while wearing "official" dayglo orange vests. I held the ladder.
It lasted for about a day. Now I think there is a an ad for beer up.
But. It was really beautiful for a day.
She can read, she can read, she's ba-ad
I was sitting in the bathtub yesterday reading the back of the shampoo bottle and my first instinct was to turn it around on the shelf so I wouldn't have to read about my hair type and the amazing nature of my product.
But then I thought, what an amazing thing, the way I can read. The way I absorb the meaning of those combinations of little letters almost instantly. The way I cannot NOT read something in front of me.
Reading....a book, a newspaper, a blog. It might be near to an addiction for me, because I get a better than chocolate or caffeine rush from shutting out the world to a captivating turn of phrase.
I can't really comprehend what it would mean to be illiterate/ preliterate. Would my mind be me with out those symbols attached to every word?
And I wonder if it is analogous to how I never learned to read music. All of the notes are merely dots and bars and I've got the tune in my head but I could not tell you which mark is which sound.
This doesn't stop me from singing in the bathtub, but once the sound bounces off the porcelain it is gone.
I am wondering what I am missing by not knowing how to read.
But then I thought, what an amazing thing, the way I can read. The way I absorb the meaning of those combinations of little letters almost instantly. The way I cannot NOT read something in front of me.
Reading....a book, a newspaper, a blog. It might be near to an addiction for me, because I get a better than chocolate or caffeine rush from shutting out the world to a captivating turn of phrase.
I can't really comprehend what it would mean to be illiterate/ preliterate. Would my mind be me with out those symbols attached to every word?
And I wonder if it is analogous to how I never learned to read music. All of the notes are merely dots and bars and I've got the tune in my head but I could not tell you which mark is which sound.
This doesn't stop me from singing in the bathtub, but once the sound bounces off the porcelain it is gone.
I am wondering what I am missing by not knowing how to read.
26 October 2010
Raven
Speaking of birds.... I am pretty sure that a bird followed me home from the grocery store last week. I decided to walk the 10 blocks because it was a beautiful fall day and the leaves were turning all sorts of orange and yellow and brown. With the leaves that had fallen and the leaves on the trees it made a sort of golden tunnel as I walked down the sidewalk.
On the way home, bag in hand, a raven or a crow started screaming at me. They do that, and I didn't pay it much mind, just kept walking. But about a block later a really magnificent leaf caught my eye and when I turned to pick it up I noticed the bird, or at least another large back bird a few feet on the pavement behind me. It was just sitting there staring, but it flew away when I turned around.
When I got home there was another raven perched on my balcony and Annabel was having a fit trying to claw through the glass window pane to get at it. It looked exactly like the first bird and it sort of made me nervous. I shut the blinds but Annabel would not calm down until it got dark.
On the way home, bag in hand, a raven or a crow started screaming at me. They do that, and I didn't pay it much mind, just kept walking. But about a block later a really magnificent leaf caught my eye and when I turned to pick it up I noticed the bird, or at least another large back bird a few feet on the pavement behind me. It was just sitting there staring, but it flew away when I turned around.
When I got home there was another raven perched on my balcony and Annabel was having a fit trying to claw through the glass window pane to get at it. It looked exactly like the first bird and it sort of made me nervous. I shut the blinds but Annabel would not calm down until it got dark.
Rainy Day
One lone seagull perched on the peak of the roof next door.
Impervious to the rain that drives against my window, bends the trees,
He fluffs his feathers, lifts off.
An awkward flap of wings transforms to graceful glide.
A slow arc and then away.
Impervious to the rain that drives against my window, bends the trees,
He fluffs his feathers, lifts off.
An awkward flap of wings transforms to graceful glide.
A slow arc and then away.
28 September 2010
Girl with Dog
The first time I saw her she was standing downtown by the corner of Nordstrom, almost obscured by the throng of busy shoppers bustling in and out and along the sidewalk. I probably would not have noticed her except for the dog.
There are so many people standing on the street corners downtown, every one asking you for something at every corner, that I often, avert eyes, rush by, too. By the time I walk two or three blocks I really just want to hang a sign of my own that says “ No, I don't want to save the children, contribute to Greenpeace, give you my spare change or take your advertising coupon....please, please don't talk to me at all!”
But there she was. a small girl anywhere from age twelve to twenty in a brown oversize coat beside an enormous furry dog. She had the ubiquitous small cardboard sign asking for help, and she was reading a small book.
What I really wanted to do was ask her where she was from, and what she was doing, and how she ended up on the corner of 7th and Pine with her large, large dog. I wanted to ask her to explain her story in her quiet, polite voice. But I didn't, I just jumped out of the car, handed her the $5 I had in my wallet and said 'good luck with whatever you are doing' and ran back to the car.
I saw her again, a glimpse from the bus, as I passed by lower Queen Anne and then again a month later walking along the back-roads in Ballard. Where was she going? How did she travel around the city? Where did they stay? Who is she? Is she still ok?
There are so many people standing on the street corners downtown, every one asking you for something at every corner, that I often, avert eyes, rush by, too. By the time I walk two or three blocks I really just want to hang a sign of my own that says “ No, I don't want to save the children, contribute to Greenpeace, give you my spare change or take your advertising coupon....please, please don't talk to me at all!”
But there she was. a small girl anywhere from age twelve to twenty in a brown oversize coat beside an enormous furry dog. She had the ubiquitous small cardboard sign asking for help, and she was reading a small book.
What I really wanted to do was ask her where she was from, and what she was doing, and how she ended up on the corner of 7th and Pine with her large, large dog. I wanted to ask her to explain her story in her quiet, polite voice. But I didn't, I just jumped out of the car, handed her the $5 I had in my wallet and said 'good luck with whatever you are doing' and ran back to the car.
I saw her again, a glimpse from the bus, as I passed by lower Queen Anne and then again a month later walking along the back-roads in Ballard. Where was she going? How did she travel around the city? Where did they stay? Who is she? Is she still ok?
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