ta-coma!

my other favorite, also in multiple decades of decay (but now suspiciously quarantined in fence...) is on pacific ave.

the sky was attempting to spray snowliva.

the adjacent lot has been vacant for years- currently utilized as a parking lot. and this building is rather skinny, teetering on the edge of the corner. that was always my preferred part about it. what was it like when it was shiny and new? everything was spankin' fresh once; everything was originally constructed with "you know what would be a REALLY GOOD IDEA?" was it a manufacturer? did it hold employees who wore fedoras and smoked indoors? were the streets filled with classily chatting Ladies Who Lunch instead of skanked-out hondas and minivans with "i'm the NRA" stickers?

i have a romanticized notion of what tacoma used to be. it was a fairly happening berg until the eighties or so. perhaps boeing can be blamed.
time stumbles on. this the back of the building, reflected in its nondescript modern neighbor.

after about an hour, i am always more than ready to leave. i am flabbergasted that i almost moved there.
one of the only "yeah, this could be my kind of place" environments in tacoma is antique row. kind of. the main antique building is a warren of tiny shops, where the various purveyors are usually standing around and bullshitting with one another- a very artsy little club of which i am a spectator. the shops there sell bicycles from the 1800's- the sorts with the one enormous 1/4" thick wheel; theater seats; a wooden apse (that if i had a spare couple thousand i would be very tempted to buy. who doesn't need a fucking apse in their lair?); a sundry of toilets and ill-fitting garb and life magazines. i bought a framed photograph of a scowling girl for a dollar.
across the street was another antique shop, this one appearing as if all the crappiest CRAP of the last hundred years had explosively vomited onto the shelves. the place was dead quiet and overpriced. it was being overseen by a grizzly man who reminded me of the cover of 'aqualung.' there was a bust of a man wearing studded armbands and a black cap. "this is so cool" i said, or similar. i asked how much. he made a disgusted noise. "she wants 125 for it" he said. "it's supposed to be rob halford, but then she found out he was a homosexual." "it's really neat" i repeated inanely.
"woman, you have some terrible taste!" he announced. it rather startled me but i continued to smile. "i was born before ALL THAT was so popular" he muttered, turning away.
try and get away with that in seattle, pal. there wasn't anything else in his store worth getting, or breaking. but a ROB HALFORD BUST... just the idea that such a thing exists makes me very happy.