rise up singing

i go through flux. i won't write for months, then i'll write greedily for weeks at a time. it's not as if i get more insightful or articulate, obviously- perhaps 'manic' is the preferred apa term.
one of my favorite houses in seattle, revisited.

i get off a stop too late on purpose, just to walk past this. it's near 16th and john. tonight the neighbors, in the yard of their well-groomed lair, were industriously hosing their lawn in the wake of today's heat. this house, meanwhile, languishes in a downright regal manner. i would love to be a little kid in this neighborhood. i would spend hours devising ways to break in and discover the ghosts.
fuck, i'm doing that anyway. i walk by and plot how i'd break in. i took d by it one night. "i LOVE this house!" i bleated lustily. "check the meters to see if it's occupied" he suggested. his logic explained the blurry, unintelligable photos i found on my camera that next morning; i'd taken wobbly-handed pictures of the electric meters at ~11pm one night, sans flash, trying not to appear suspicious.
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this is another favorite, on 12th S in the ID. i have loved this house for years. it has a tattered, jaundiced quality and seems clumsily out of place, stucco'd as it is. it also has a yard that suggests absenteeism, or at least indifference. i stood on the opposite corner to take this picture.

i went to a free show of the cave singers tonight. it was hot and sultry; i was packed against the used jazz cds with mere glimpses of the band through various sweat-soaked shoulders. my skin was slick. people were taking the dividers out of the cd racks to fan themselves with. after, i walked through seattle center and down 2nd avenue. the light was uniformly flattering. i found myself singing "wishin' and hopin'" as i walked.