a baby potbellied pig (named, unfortunately, "peanut") died in my arms today. it would have been rather eerie had i not been at work at the time, i suppose.
rain has given way, temporarily. i have been looking into fares to alaska. very homesick of late. i just want to have some tea at side street and do the crossword in the fucking anchorage press. i think about the star in arctic valley, the stagnant ice floes at point woronzof, the smell of kobuk coffee, the nasty popcorn at darwin's. i have a version of alaska that has been immortalized in permanent 2002. part of me doesn't want proof of how things have changed. my childhood home is now occupied by strangers. my best friend is now married with 3 kids. the barren swaths of south anchorage are probably all breeder-box subdivisions now. but something keeps nagging at me to go and see it all for myself, and i tend to be fairly relentless and obsessive until i sate my curiousity.
there is something masochistically satisfying about proving to myself that no, you can never go home again. that said, does seattle feel like home? no. i am a tourist without a timeline here. a tourist with laundry to put in the dryer, so must go.
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