logorrhea

Summertime is actually summer-like, now...sun, warm...it's almost a shock. It's pretty damn fine, though.

Little to write on days like these- I ride the silver machine around, I work, and deal with inefficient air conditioning and it's attendant complaints. The work day ends, and I again try to break 40mph on the downhill towards my bus. Talk to the cyclists or the unsequestered girls at the stop...then into town, a few miles along the ship canal to my second home- the Fremont Coffee Company. Coffee, music, books. The good things, for most of my life. Home, play with the iron, gardening, cooking, play guitar (not enough lately) and down into to dreamland.

Last night I dreamt about my friend S.S. It was interesting in that she was only about four feet tall, and when I commented on this (three different times, as I recall) she replied "it's your dream, I don't know why I'm this small". We wandered tree lined streets for hours. Good soundtrack.

Lately has been good for books. I have been reading a few books by Caitlin Kiernan- these are fine Lovecraft influenced novels, really dark and lovely and harsh. I strongly recommend her book "Threshold" to anyone who likes dark fiction/horror. You'll never look at trilobites the same. One of the cool things about Kiernan is that she is a working palaeontologist, so you get to learn some things while you are being drug through the ringer- just how I like it.

I subdivided the blog, as some apparently have noticed. I figured most people don't care about lifting, so it's over here now. First link on the right, as well.

Last night I decided at nine that I wanted the ferociously excellent Chef's Noodle from Kwanjai Thai and rode over the hill...perfect night for spicy noodles on the porch which meant high-grade people watching. I think the urban human mating rituals and grooming habits are seriously disturbing. This may be because I don't have the right clothes, or won't wear them, or that I haven't been grooming my stubble to the perfect length- who'd a thunk that straight guys would fully adopt George Michael as their role model?

So it's the carefully under-shaved men in their Volcom shirts and hundred dollar jeans reeking of axe drunk by 9:30 looking for a piece...which is stumbling down the street in a posse of 17 texting each other. Later they will go and drink and meet and text each other and develop environmental allergies to each other's product. These are the thoughts as I thought them over a plate of amazing noodles with chicken, prawns, broccoli, mushrooms and hot chili spices. The noodles are really the best part- huge flat things dripping hot oil...

So anyway, I am looking at the future of "The Greatest Nation On Earth" doing their pre-hook up rituals happy knowing that in a few hours they will be rutting away in sub-connubial bliss, or throwing chairs, or staring at the ceiling wondering if he'll be gone when she wakes up- or all of the above. And I wonder if the morning after pill is still available in the state of Washington, and think that the end- well, it probably just can't come soon enough. Modern America is doing psychic damage to the firmament at an alarming rate, and I, I just hope that I can have great noodles as my last meal before Raven rolls up the curtains for the last time.

God, I love books.