Got Back

I almost have the use of two hands. One and a half. Probably one and two thirds.

I still haven't told the story of how that happened I suppose. Though, most any person who knows me remotely and reads this fucking thing has already heard the entire thing. The entire. uninteresting. drunken. thing. invloving spandex. so, we'll save the internet version for another time.

For now, the only thing that's important about it is that the cast if off and I have one gnarled, mangy finger that makes me look like a biker or perhaps an old grandma soccer player. but with a classier title.

so i'm in seattle again. after the thing. the thing which was amazing. the thing which I will still later explain, for the 2.5 people that haven't heard about it already. I am in Seattle because of my hand. of course I get to also see amazing buddies. god bless this city.

Things, listed in no apparent order, just because it's been so long:

--I woke up at 6:15 this morning, and it felt amazing.
--For a split second, on my way to the bus, walking between the construction site downtown and the homeless man in hot orange pants who couldn't speak english, I remembered exactly what it was like to be 15. For about 9 seconds. And it was terrifying.
--My headphones only play through one ear. This is quite dissappointing.
--I am reading. YES! I. am. reading.
--"Little Miss Sunshine" is one of the best movies I have seen in a LONG time. I laughed so hard I was crying. For a long time. I suggest everyone see it.
--I have decided I need more money, which is to say, any money. any money at all.
--Which is to say, I am too fucking old to take another term off of school. I need to finnish. I need to do this play. Which is to say, I need more money.
--I am affraid of the future. The pretty, very, immediate future. Which is to say, I need more money.
--I've been having scary dreams. Scary because I wake up and think people are actually there.
--I miss Martha Maye. I just miss that woman badly.
--Wow. That just put it all in perspective. That one tiny thing you had, put everything relevant to it in perpective. Thank you.
--Hey you. No, not you. Yeah, you. The truth is terrifying. Isn't it?
--A million walls hardly protect a city. I am probably wrong. A million walls probably protect a city quite nicely. You probably did it right the first time.
--The best part about writing anonymously to people is that you never have to take any real accountability for what you say. Top five Elvis Costello songs...
--Fat dogs usually have hip problems. That is almost always true.
-- We need dog-a-grams to communicate. McKnight?
--The best part of this thing is that there are probably only 3 people, and by three I mean 2 people, that ever read it. Bangin.
--Travel is amazing, when it's on your own omission.
--I looked around Seattle this afternoon, and realized that the city is swallowing all my memories, and chasing them down with giant piles of dirt which will one day support condominiums. Condos are eating my city.
--What the fuck happened to the Hemp Festival? Remember the Hemp Festival? That was crazy.
--There used to be a house I walked past every day that had a giant yin-yang symbol hanging above the front door. Sometimes it would get loose and flap in the wind. But they would aways pin it down again. I saw it recently. No yin-yang symbol. What kind of shit heads live there now?
--The Glow Pt 2
--Sometimes I think that I could swallow everything up. And I could make a really good list of things to get better at, and books to read, and people to write to, and money orders to make out, and national monuments I want to visit, and places I want to get my stupid Wyatt-Yerpp picture taken, and things not to appologize for and people not to do it to, and things and people to be really eternally sorry to, and conversations to take back, and long haikus I could have written, and places in Chicago I could have looked harder in, and dark corners I would have said no thanks to, and hotdogs I would have said yes please to, and all the anti-smoking ads I hate, and the ammount of dollars it takes to visit dead Elvis's home, and the strange ways my old friend sounds in new voice messages, and all the beers I've tasted that actually taste nice, and the times I remember first times (like buying my first walkman while with my grandparents in Portland), and the moments I should have told my grandfather I appreciated him but didn't, and the little times I could have made something good out of something pointlessly bad (like a time we were at a gas station and I was pissed because something didn't go exactly right, but there were 5 people in the car dressed like white trash scavengers with too much spending money shouting things like "quarter pound that gnar ass"), and listening to my mother when she said "that wine is bad, don't drink it", and the times I wanted to make literary references but couldn't find any, and go diving off of all the high dives I'm affraid of and always missed, and the portions of mashed potaotes I could have better portioned, and all the sub-cities I never wanted to move to but think about regardless and all the people inside them, and the small notes I write to myself on receipts and the back of cigarette boxes that I always lose or put somewhere I will never put anything again eventhough I think that just by writing them down I will remember and will remember where they are just because I have put them down and could never forget because they are tiny things I don't usually think anyway, but actually, in reality, wind up thinking all the time, like the idea of a little fat girl in foster care asking for someone else's birthday cake and smearing it all over her "girl's rtule and boys drool" t-shirt inadvertantly, and the times I lie about because I can't (or don't want to) remember the real times anymore. A list of those things.