I never ever thought living in Seattle would mean needing AC in April. It’s a nice surprise … sometimes.
A clean-faced homeless dude saw me in my bright green long johns under my worn old dress with my backpack & dirty suitcase and gently let me know in an island (not Pacific) accent that here under the overpass is where people like us can sleep. Even when I told him thank you I am sleeping indoors (it seemed rude/like it would be rubbing it in to say DUH I have not one BUT TWO roofed homes PLUS family who not only rent but OWN), he let me know where the closest shelters are, including detailed instructions to a women’s shelter.
I think maybe he is new to this weird-ass place and is doing something like practicing a foreign language on people by hospitably passing on recently-acquired Seattle-edition low-income-guidebook-to-street-level-amenities info. And since nobody in Seattle knows how to wear a fucking COLOR (let alone a color with a fucking PRINT) I probably look insanely poor and/or like I come from a warm and friendly place where people speak comfortably to passing strangers as a matter of course. Or I guess just super ready to find and go to bed, which makes sense since I’m clearly not fooling anybody by putting a dress on over my pajama pants. His buddy tried to ignore me like OH NO WE GOT HERE EARLY AND I AM NOT TRYING TO SHARE ANY UNDER-THE-OVERPASS SPACE WITH THIS BITCH IN THE CRAZY-PANTS.
I proceeded to our car where I cried. It makes me mad that there are all these rich people and they can’t even laugh at a joke someone makes in an elevator or spend any of their stupid money on colorful joyful clothes. Instead: expensive greys and blacks and navies (that I never thought I would have a problem with because I love wearing them too BUT COME ON WHAT THE FUCK A WHOLE DOWNTOWN OF AN ALREADY-OVERLY-GREY CITY WITHOUT ANY DECADENT OUTRAGEOUS COLORS?!?). Of course that’s not really exactly why I cried, but I’d rather sound nonsensically ridiculous than offensively, uselessly guilty and maudlin.
I am not cut out to live in a city.
Where AM I that I'm now surrounded by teenaged boys in lacrosse uniforms? This is a strange foreign land. You may fantasize but I'm nervous.
— Trixie Fontaine (@tastytrixie) April 23, 2014
I’m not sure if I even knew what lacrosse was as a teenager.
Seriously though, I had lunch in a trendy restaurant SO PACKED that they run out of gnocchi in an hour of lunch rush and I was one of only TWO people wearing a fucking color. EVERYONE ELSE WAS A SHADE OF CHARCOAL AND ALCOHOL. I and the other were only SHINY LAVENDER which hardly counts as loud, but we might as well have worn bottles of ketchup on our faces, our fashion risk was so bold.
Our apartment didn’t come with the greatest window treatments so in order to get enough sleep now that we actually have more hours of sunlight, Delia has resorted to wearing a sleeping mask. So I got one too! Only it’s too disturbing to think of this sitting on my face so I only put it on this morning for show, deciding their ovoid shape would be good for an Easter nudie pic:
Really happy about this scene and very grateful for the sweet location and the man-talent! I failed to reset one of the camera settings though, so the quality is somewhat compromised in a bunch of shots. It sucks, but taught me a good lesson since right before we started shooting I was bitching about people who don’t attend to details so PRIDE GOETH BEFORE A FALL, SELF!
We have a deal where a hot guy will shoot hardcore content with my wife Delia . . . if he gets to fuck both of us off camera. TOTAL WIN-WIN! So I got tested today:
There’s a possibility we’ll also shoot for my site if money and scheduling permits. Would you like that?
Loved my ride on the buses today. It’s amazing how foreign (and “beautifil”) everything looks boosted up by a couple of feet:
I was the only passenger on the bus when we went over the bridge.
Taking the bus makes me feel really good because
- we live in a place with many super nice people, and I feel better about the world by being on a bus with them
- I feel like I’m really traveling somewhere and recognize the distance I’m covering going from home to Seattle (when we drive I don’t appreciate / respect that as much)
- I’m not in charge of anything . . . I practice looking out the window and surrendering to the bus, the driver, and everything passing by; it’s an opportunity to submit to schedules I don’t control and to just . . . practice doing nothing and getting somewhere anyway . . . I practice not being anxious and afraid, and in the absence of that I have moments like the one above when I was brought to tears by the way the wind moves the water on the south side of the bridge (I always appreciate it, but never have seen it exactly like I saw it today . . . which is how every single time I look at wind moving water should be) . . . something about being on this bus alone made me think about getting old and dying. Or maybe I’ve been thinking about getting old and dying a lot, and this bus ride was a really good one for just going along with those thoughts.
- I am so lucky I don’t *HAVE* to ride the bus (and so lucky that when I *choose* to, it’s these ones)
- when the bus drove through areas they might be, instead of worrying that I’d see them I actually hoped that I would just see them driving by . . . to the library, coming out of the store . . . and that I would be happy and comforted by glimpsing them going about their lives from my anonymous invisible vantage point
- I love the ways the bus sounds – it is a real vehicle that does lots of work
This was supposed to be a picture of me admiring my armpit hair:
I thought about a lot of things on the bus (like I think about a lot of things in the shower and pretty much all the time), like advantages I have because of some fucked up stuff, including simple things like being raised with enough of a competitive awareness of presentation that I can win at things a lot of people don’t/won’t. If I want to. I have a vast array of choices most people do not (or are simply not aware that they have and/or are not interested in exercising them), and some of that is due to pure luck.
When I watch the people stream by getting off the ferry I know a lot of them are “luckier” than I am. But I’m egotistical enough to not envy them, assuming most of them have absolutely no fucking clue how to be anything but average. Which is a big funny sign of me being an asshole, because I’ve learned so much by resigning myself to being average. Average is such a comforting way to be sometimes.
When I was window-shopping today someone said “psssssst HEY” from his car behind me and offered me his full bag of hot popcorn . . . and it felt more illicit than the other substances I was carrying:
Okay, he didn’t really say “psssst” but it felt exactly like psssst . . .
So yes, I took the big bag of popcorn that wouldn’t fit between his legs and ate it.
There is more to this story . . . in my head, anyway.
Good news: Alex Talvez is coming over tonight! I *think* the cams will be on but I’m not going to make any promises about that or what we might do on them.
Trying to stay the course. Many hours alone and at the computer. Trying to strive for balance. Many doubts and tons of to-do’s. Trying to let go of when and focus on what and how. How GOOD, not how NOW. Trying to enjoy and refine my process(es) and not give up too soon, afraid I won’t have the results and am already past a billion deadlines (that are so artificial and such bullshit WHO CARES).
The only things I consumed today:
- a health bar in the middle of the night/sleeping time
- mug of Roastaroma tea
- a few dark-chocolate covered almonds
- a carton of chicken broth with some little pasta shells and grated carrot
- some coke zero
Now I need to eat something with some comfort and calories and stretch or I’m probably going to get a massive headache.