this is the "grilled octopus with oil cured olives and chorizo and piquillo aioli"... a slight variation from the chorizo-studded 'pus in posts prior.
i was so thirsty after eating this salty mess, and i didn't care one fig.
photoshop, my nemesis. surely there is a way to make colored photographs less so? the preview for this shows it in black and white, but when i save it it becomes lizardine. the green hue elevates the creepy factor. i was half-lit and chopping onions. i highly recommend it. chopping onions whilst half-lit, that is. you know you're ALIVE.
i read somewhere that rinsing the onions will decrease the teary factor. yellow onions are apparently less eye-watering. the yellow onions i selected proved this to be a lie.
*
my days have congealed into a pleasant paste. september flew the fuck by. time dilates and snaps back. mornings, rolling over, warm, the alarm ringing repeatedly... i have my eyes closed, i'm happy, i'm relaxed, i'm not thinking about anything but the moment. i think "this is what matters." i wait until my arm is actively tingling before changing positions. in another moment: i am walking past people on the sidewalk, headphones in, smiling distractedly, somewhere to be. i am running across the icu with a bottle of epinepherine. i am slowly washing my hands so they're warm when they land on my client's back. i am jumping on the trampoline. i am washing my hair. i am staring out the window of the bus and watching the guy in front of me scratch his head. i am listening to them breathe. i am listening to myself breathe.
if i'm not actively in the moment, it's hard to believe it ever existed... that i could
be so fucking fortunate. my eyes feel permanently dilated.
today: i got home, smiled stupidly, bathed, bejangled, and strolled downtown. i wandered through pike place. i appreciated it through touristic eyes.
okay, boniface mall... this dates me horrifically, but it was a carr's/pay'n'save glorified strip mall in anchorage that i went to a few times with my parents in the '80s. there was a kiosk within that sold rainbow popcorn. rainbow popcorn is one of those things that weirdly defines my 'youth' and simultaneously seems to be something i totally invented. boniface mall (boniface center?) had this scent that i will always associate with being 8 years old and unable to get rainbow popcorn. i remember that helpless, lusty feeling every time i am in the bowels of pike place and in front of this store:
i will walk by this place purposely, just to inhale.
it's good to remember where you came from.
don't get jaded!
*
after my glassy-eyed stroll downtown this afternoon, i wandered about the capitol hill p-patch. no one else was there. the last time i visited there was someone sitting on a step in the corner, witnessing me singing daftly. so i checked first this time.
the petal equivalent of "hey guys, wait up!.... guys...?"
nature says "fuck off."
wood spiders have become endemic in fair seattle. they are massive, benign, and everywhere. this guy was living in a crud-filled web in a hedge on capitol hill.
i see spiders and i equivilate them with homeless people. a spider in a lush thicket is enviable. a spider who makes his web in a windy corner of a bus shelter, breathing in cigarette smoke and car exhaust? stupid spider. homeless people in hawaii? dude, i could be homeless in hawaii... homeless in alaska? if you don't have friends there who can put you up, and you're alone every time i see you- GO SOMEWHERE MORE CLIMATICALLY ACCOMODATING.
if my life ever becomes fucked, which it might; and my friends desert me, which they could; i will rot my sorry ass in a warm place. i have money set aside for just that. i'm just saying. point being: there are stupid spiders as there are stupid humans, and they probably all even each other out for the greater genetic good.
*
jesus, i'm babbling.
*
spiders. really? that tangent was embarrassing.
*
so i solarized my legs.
photoshop, you wily eel! there is surely a better way.
the light of reality, grim as it is, is imminently more reassuring.
or not!
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