the only one i could get: two boys busking in the french quarter. the boy on the right was tap dancing. and he was really fucking good. i gave him money.
but further images shall have to wait, and in the interim i will forget, and it will become a mere memory, and who cares?
how poignant and prescient things seem as they happen... and how depressingly ephemeral they prove themselves to be in retrospect. that can be applied to pretty much everything.
*
i never have sundays off. i wandered today with the naivete of a foreigner. everything was shockingly mellow. people were peacefully walking their dogs, mowing lawns, sauntering hand-in-hand towards a sun-drenched dinner al fresco. it was delightful and eerie to witness- i couldn't help but think "what the fuck? seriously, this is how it normally is?"
i went to the fremont sunday market. because i could. i bought fossilized bamboo for a dollar. a surly young girl was blocking my ability to get free samples at theo chocolate, so i left without trying anything. i walked up the street i used to live on. i remember the '72 monte carlo parked out front, how obnoxious that must have seemed- how fucking miserable i was when i lived there. the sidewalk in front of my old building was wet with hose-water from the downstairs bar. the dumpsters reeked. and i couldn't help but wish i had a brief chance to do it all again, differently.
but fremont is different now. the red apple is gone. the record store is gone. fremont is a sea of white faces behind the wheels of priuses with obama stickers. when one thinks of the liberal seattle cliches, fremont is the stock image. perhaps it was always like that and i am simply a bigger asshole now.
i met j and watched 'the shining' on mute whilst listening to elliot smith's 'from a basement on a hill.' that is a disconcerting pairing. i made a dumb comment about 'the dark side of the shining' but since pink floyd wasn't involved it wasn't amusing whatsoever.
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