I was feeling kinda nauseous last week, then Thursday I developed a terrible wheezing cough. By Friday morning I was hot with fever and really achy. I called in sick to work and slept the entire day, but Jarad and I had won tickets to a show late Friday night at the Showbox and I went, even though I was hacking and weak and probably infecting everyone around me. The walk home from downtown at 1am was torture, and I ended up feverish or with chills throughout last night too. I spent all day today inside, shuffling around our tiny place, watching Angel. Right now I'm at the computer and perched over my rice cooker, which is serving as a makeshift humidifier. A little moisture in the bronchial tube keeps me from the pain that has been coming from just breathing. My aunt called today and said everyone's had this coughy flu thing and they've ended up in bed for at least a week each. I say screw that. My tried and true Pretend-I'm-Not-Sick method should get me through this. When I'm not hacking my brains out or passed out from exhaustion, that is. Needless to say, I WILL SEE OTTERS TOMORROW. And while I may not sing karaoke tomorrow night, I WILL watch my friends sing karaoke tomorrow night.
Somebody took video at the show last night: Here's Of Montreal!
Here's a video for a song of theirs that I really like:
And HERE is a refreshingly different performer - I liked her but Jarad didn't. In my opinion, if Conor Oberst was the girl from Postal Service (with similar beats at times) then you have The Blow:
Jarad, on the other hand, thought she was more like Wesley Willis.
Blogger's TRUE STORIES - Garee Coalman
Jarad and Leanne did this thing where you set your iPod to shuffle and with each new song it adds to your Life Soundtrack - or somebody's life soundtrack. It doesn't have to be your own. It can be a made up one like this one I came up with based on my random playlist:
Opening Credits:
Hotel Arizona by Wilco
Garee Coalman - what we didn't see in Differnt Strokes or the Sureal Life...
Flash through a quick montage of Garee's days as a young stand up comedian on tour in Arizona. He's not very successful. We see him drowning himself in whiskey after each show and reminiscing his childhood.
Waking Up:
Black (unreleased) by Saul Williams
Born during a James Brown concert in LA, Garee's parents were proud members of the Blak Pantherz. They'd poured their hopes and dreams into this new strong son that they knew would carry on their legacy of righteousness. They tried to instill in him a connectedness to the earth and a fighting spirit.
First Day at School:
Cast in the Haze (Been There Four Days) by Of Montreal
Tiny Garee, buoyed for years by his strong and loving community of Pantherz, finds himself alone and exposed after a conspiracy against his parents landed them in prison and him in the Phoenix suburbs with a new, rich, white family. Funny how Differnt Strokes imitated this part of his life.
All this happened right around the time Garee started kindergarten. Here the young boy falls in love with Rose, a beautiful redhead. Yes, he was young and didn't really know the meaning of love, but this infatuation led to a string of mishaps with white girls... his parents, in their shame, disowned him for his cracker leanings.
Fight Song:
Jailhouse by Sublime
Over the next few years Garee grew angry over being such a disappointment to his birth parents. He was a rebel.
Breaking Up:
Why Can't You Be Nicer to Me by The White Stripes
Garee's small man complex affects every relationship. He treats all his girlfriends like crap and they all say the same thing. "Why can't you be nicer to me?" The truth is, he only wanted little Rosie.
Prom:
The Sounds of Science by The Beastie Boys
Strangely young Garee immersed himself in science and philosophy during his last few years at the white suburban high school. Little Rose had grown to become quite the bookworm (think Fred from Angel). In an attempt to finally be noticed by her, Garee dedicated his days to studying chemistry. It was in the lab, that, for a fleeting moment, Garee and Rose found a small bit of their own chemistry - or so he thought. That's when he asked Rose to Prom. She and Garee got hot and heavy next to the bunson burners. Rose, it turns out, liked to get freaky in the lab. But that was all the love she had for Garee... her little man curiosity was quickly satisfied.
Life:
Slob by Weezer
After being blown off by Rose, Garee gave up science, became depressed and called himself an Existentialist. Why bother with college? He laughed every time he looked in the mirror. What a joke he had become. Then something clicked. He was a joke. LIFE was a joke. He pulled a business card out of a dirty pair of jeans on the floor. It had been handed to him by a casting agent who had approached him at the mall, telling him how "cute" he was and how together they could make a fortune. Here he began a life of leisure, as long as he could carry off his famous line; "whatchoo talkin' bout..." yeah you know the rest.
After several years on Differnt Strokes, Garee went back to AZ to do stand up and was able to ride the coattails of his own Hollywood fame for awhile. But the little man was not very funny on his own. And he knew it. Garee was bitter. He hated people, and he hated being small.
Mental Breakdown:
The Miniature Philosopher by Of Montreal
In the style of Howard Hughes, Garee locked himself away to ponder life and the meaning of it all. He rented a yurt on a Dine' Reservation and remained in solitude for 3 years.
Driving:
The Truth by Handome Boy Modeling School
One day Garee had an epiphany: there might not be a point to life, but here he was, still alive. Might it be better to just remember the good times, try and make the best of it, to live life to it's fullest? He ran out of the yurt to his car, managed to start it up, and headed straight for the Hollywood Hills.
Flashback:
The Road by Tenacious D
On his drive to LA Garee thinks back over his life. All that time he'd been bitter - not appreciating crazy nights on his stand up tour - more redheads... the fire down below...
Wedding:
Goodbye Honey by Ryan Adams
Over before it began. Again. One heroin filled night during this quest to really enjoy life, Garee found Rose working a pole at a strip club in Compton. She may have gotten over her small-guy fetish but the truth is she went black and never went back. At first she liked the way the Compton boys roughed her up after each shift, but after awhile the bruising was bad for business. Seeing Garee again, Rose thought here was a brother she didn't have to fear. Garee plied her with much-craved valium, and the next morning they were awakened by a bellboy at the Rio in Vegas. Rose was swimming in mardi gras beads under a fake palm in the lobby. Garee reached in his pants and pulled out a piece of paper - a marriage license. He sat back, waiting for the drugs to wear off.
Rose left later that day and he didn't hear from her until 9 months later.
Birth of a Child:
You Tell Me by Johnny Cash
A letter arrives in the mail. Rose had a baby. It died.
Garee doesn't let all this drive him back to solitude. He tries to once more make a name for himself in Hollywood. Years passed by, publicity from The Sureal Life helped, and now Garee wanted to direct. He had a great idea..
Final Battle:
Holland, 1945 by Neutral Milk Hotel
Garee pitched a movie to a producer - it was all the crazy events in his life but set during World War II. A small black man in love and fighting the harshness of the world - this is how he saw himself. Garee's idea was crushed as no producer had any interest in his idea. Little Garee finally gave up. Rose was gone, he never once saw his child alive, and Hollywood didn't want him.
Death Scene:
Section 12 (Hold Me Now) by The Polyphonic Spree
Garee poured a bottle of sleeping pills onto a table. He grabbed 5 pills, put them in his mouth and washed them down with straight whiskey. Garee passes out but wakes up as his stomach is being pumped by a lovely redheaded nurse. It's Rose. She's rehabilitated and found God and achieved her nursing degree with the financial support of her new Fundy friends. It's too late for Garee, though. His consciousness is brief and his vision of Rose fades to black as his soul slips away from his mortal coil.
Funeral Song:
Down In A Second by Phantom Planet
In Garee's final comedic act, his casket was accidentally dropped into the grave.
End Credits:
Give My Love to Rose by Johnny Cash
Opening Credits:
Hotel Arizona by Wilco
Garee Coalman - what we didn't see in Differnt Strokes or the Sureal Life...
Flash through a quick montage of Garee's days as a young stand up comedian on tour in Arizona. He's not very successful. We see him drowning himself in whiskey after each show and reminiscing his childhood.
Waking Up:
Black (unreleased) by Saul Williams
Born during a James Brown concert in LA, Garee's parents were proud members of the Blak Pantherz. They'd poured their hopes and dreams into this new strong son that they knew would carry on their legacy of righteousness. They tried to instill in him a connectedness to the earth and a fighting spirit.
First Day at School:
Cast in the Haze (Been There Four Days) by Of Montreal
Tiny Garee, buoyed for years by his strong and loving community of Pantherz, finds himself alone and exposed after a conspiracy against his parents landed them in prison and him in the Phoenix suburbs with a new, rich, white family. Funny how Differnt Strokes imitated this part of his life.
All this happened right around the time Garee started kindergarten. Here the young boy falls in love with Rose, a beautiful redhead. Yes, he was young and didn't really know the meaning of love, but this infatuation led to a string of mishaps with white girls... his parents, in their shame, disowned him for his cracker leanings.
Fight Song:
Jailhouse by Sublime
Over the next few years Garee grew angry over being such a disappointment to his birth parents. He was a rebel.
Breaking Up:
Why Can't You Be Nicer to Me by The White Stripes
Garee's small man complex affects every relationship. He treats all his girlfriends like crap and they all say the same thing. "Why can't you be nicer to me?" The truth is, he only wanted little Rosie.
Prom:
The Sounds of Science by The Beastie Boys
Strangely young Garee immersed himself in science and philosophy during his last few years at the white suburban high school. Little Rose had grown to become quite the bookworm (think Fred from Angel). In an attempt to finally be noticed by her, Garee dedicated his days to studying chemistry. It was in the lab, that, for a fleeting moment, Garee and Rose found a small bit of their own chemistry - or so he thought. That's when he asked Rose to Prom. She and Garee got hot and heavy next to the bunson burners. Rose, it turns out, liked to get freaky in the lab. But that was all the love she had for Garee... her little man curiosity was quickly satisfied.
Life:
Slob by Weezer
After being blown off by Rose, Garee gave up science, became depressed and called himself an Existentialist. Why bother with college? He laughed every time he looked in the mirror. What a joke he had become. Then something clicked. He was a joke. LIFE was a joke. He pulled a business card out of a dirty pair of jeans on the floor. It had been handed to him by a casting agent who had approached him at the mall, telling him how "cute" he was and how together they could make a fortune. Here he began a life of leisure, as long as he could carry off his famous line; "whatchoo talkin' bout..." yeah you know the rest.
After several years on Differnt Strokes, Garee went back to AZ to do stand up and was able to ride the coattails of his own Hollywood fame for awhile. But the little man was not very funny on his own. And he knew it. Garee was bitter. He hated people, and he hated being small.
Mental Breakdown:
The Miniature Philosopher by Of Montreal
In the style of Howard Hughes, Garee locked himself away to ponder life and the meaning of it all. He rented a yurt on a Dine' Reservation and remained in solitude for 3 years.
Driving:
The Truth by Handome Boy Modeling School
One day Garee had an epiphany: there might not be a point to life, but here he was, still alive. Might it be better to just remember the good times, try and make the best of it, to live life to it's fullest? He ran out of the yurt to his car, managed to start it up, and headed straight for the Hollywood Hills.
Flashback:
The Road by Tenacious D
On his drive to LA Garee thinks back over his life. All that time he'd been bitter - not appreciating crazy nights on his stand up tour - more redheads... the fire down below...
Wedding:
Goodbye Honey by Ryan Adams
Over before it began. Again. One heroin filled night during this quest to really enjoy life, Garee found Rose working a pole at a strip club in Compton. She may have gotten over her small-guy fetish but the truth is she went black and never went back. At first she liked the way the Compton boys roughed her up after each shift, but after awhile the bruising was bad for business. Seeing Garee again, Rose thought here was a brother she didn't have to fear. Garee plied her with much-craved valium, and the next morning they were awakened by a bellboy at the Rio in Vegas. Rose was swimming in mardi gras beads under a fake palm in the lobby. Garee reached in his pants and pulled out a piece of paper - a marriage license. He sat back, waiting for the drugs to wear off.
Rose left later that day and he didn't hear from her until 9 months later.
Birth of a Child:
You Tell Me by Johnny Cash
A letter arrives in the mail. Rose had a baby. It died.
Garee doesn't let all this drive him back to solitude. He tries to once more make a name for himself in Hollywood. Years passed by, publicity from The Sureal Life helped, and now Garee wanted to direct. He had a great idea..
Final Battle:
Holland, 1945 by Neutral Milk Hotel
Garee pitched a movie to a producer - it was all the crazy events in his life but set during World War II. A small black man in love and fighting the harshness of the world - this is how he saw himself. Garee's idea was crushed as no producer had any interest in his idea. Little Garee finally gave up. Rose was gone, he never once saw his child alive, and Hollywood didn't want him.
Death Scene:
Section 12 (Hold Me Now) by The Polyphonic Spree
Garee poured a bottle of sleeping pills onto a table. He grabbed 5 pills, put them in his mouth and washed them down with straight whiskey. Garee passes out but wakes up as his stomach is being pumped by a lovely redheaded nurse. It's Rose. She's rehabilitated and found God and achieved her nursing degree with the financial support of her new Fundy friends. It's too late for Garee, though. His consciousness is brief and his vision of Rose fades to black as his soul slips away from his mortal coil.
Funeral Song:
Down In A Second by Phantom Planet
In Garee's final comedic act, his casket was accidentally dropped into the grave.
End Credits:
Give My Love to Rose by Johnny Cash
Free Lattes
Kirkland guy started a cafe where you Pay What You Can.
"he figures he can finesse the largesse of well-off latte lovers to cover the tabs of the less fortunate." - The Seattle Times 2/6/07
www.terrabite.org
Though we all know that Kirkland probably has, like, one, maybe two, low income residents... I still think it's an awesome idea.
"he figures he can finesse the largesse of well-off latte lovers to cover the tabs of the less fortunate." - The Seattle Times 2/6/07
www.terrabite.org
Though we all know that Kirkland probably has, like, one, maybe two, low income residents... I still think it's an awesome idea.
Creepy Guy
So get this, my friend has a stalker and his name is Louis. After a year of her going through a ton of crap with him, and thinking he's finally over her, this guy links through her myspace friend list to my "jack tar" myspace profile and decides to contact me via not only the contact email I've posted, but also via letter to my magazine address. He says he's coming to Seattle and wants three copies of my magazine. This guy is in no way involved with traditional maritime stuff. What a creepy psycho dude.
THIS IS WHY I KEEP MY PROFILE PRIVATE. It's bad enough that this blog is open to public viewing.
THIS IS WHY I KEEP MY PROFILE PRIVATE. It's bad enough that this blog is open to public viewing.
I can't believe she made it.
I just finished reading Maiden Voyage by Tania Aebi. It got to be laughable - how did she make it around the world? People towed her through rougher harbors, she always hid out in her bunk in heavy storms, her cats pissed and pooped all over her bed, her food, everything. She didn't learn how to properly stow ANYTHING until the last month of her 2 1/2 year trip. And I'm talking anything. Her floors were constantly covered with food and sauces, she lost cans of fuel out of the cockpit... all because she didn't stow stuff right. A million people fixed her engine for her, and then she would promptly destroy it. I'd rather have read about how she grew as a person than how she fumbled around the world, messing up her boat, and calling her daddy for money or to come put her boat back together. But hey, she WAS only 18 when she set out. And not very salty.
Here's the one paragraph I got a kick out of about a fake beard and an empty grenade that she brought on her trip:
"My father and I had assumed that if ever somebody (undesirable) wanted to board, maybe a bearded man would make the predators think twice. If that didn't work, I could pull out the pin, hold up the grenade and say, "If you come on my boat, we all go." If they still ignored the twerp with bold words and decided to come anyway, well, what the heck, I tried"
Here's the one paragraph I got a kick out of about a fake beard and an empty grenade that she brought on her trip:
"My father and I had assumed that if ever somebody (undesirable) wanted to board, maybe a bearded man would make the predators think twice. If that didn't work, I could pull out the pin, hold up the grenade and say, "If you come on my boat, we all go." If they still ignored the twerp with bold words and decided to come anyway, well, what the heck, I tried"
Morning with Stupid
Give me a good reason why I should be called "captain" of anything, because this morning I've proven my almost complete inability to navigate my way into a building that lies about 1 mile from my apartment. After one hour of joviality, one hour of confusion, a brief cry, and another hour of bewilderment, I managed to locate the new Coast Guard Licensing office in downtown Seattle. That's the short story. Skip the rest unless you want to hear the gritty yet sometimes entertaining details of my Tuesday morning ridiculousness...
First the lesson: Never attempt an important errand without a thoroughly researched plan. You know that attitude that some people have... those people who say to me "Kim, you plan too much, you worry too much! Relax! Everything'll work out." Yeah you know who you are. Can I blame this morning on you? I won't. I'll take the blame. I'm a dufus. I'm a dufus because instead of checking the address, I just ASSuMEd that the REC was in the same place it was 4 years ago - on the Coast Guard base way down the waterfront past the shipyard. Makes sense, right? Coastie office on a Coastie base? WRONG. But before anyone thinks this is going to include any kind of rant against the Seattle REC, you're dead wrong, because they have always been great to me.
I thought I'd planned my trip to the REC meticulously; every paper I was submitting was in it's own plastic sleeve, with a brief summary note slipped in with it, for example, a sea service letter had a note summarizing days (inland or NC) and tonnage. Plus I'd gone to bed early so that I could be there when the workers were fresh - upon their 7:30 am opening. I'd hoped for good moods and had originally planned a Monday arrival, but I'd stayed up too late. So after a 6am wakeup, and a 7:12 am bus from Capitol Hill, I was downtown near the ferry dock and walking the long straight walk out to the USCG base. The bums were still asleep in their dirty blankets, the overcast sky was hiding the morning sun, and a dockworker gave me a kind "good morning" along the way. Upon reaching the base I found no way to enter in the usual spot, and saw a sign that said "New Entrance on Massachussetts Ave." I stepped towards the road and looked up and down Alaskan Way, squinting to see distant street signs. Which way was Massachussetts? I wondered. I couldn't remember. I looked around, feeling lost, and figured I'd start walking north to look at some street signs a little closer. A kind looking man was walking briskly in the opposite direction, and he smiled at me and said "Are you looking for the REC?" relieved, I said I was and he proceeded to tell me that he was Andy Crawford, and that he could give me directions. At this point I'm thinking "Andy Crawford! Of the reputedly excellent Crawford Nautical School just one mile north. This is definitely a man who can help me." With his nice smile, Andy points points towards all the buildings downtown and tells me to look at a black smokestack. He tells me basically to line the black smokestack up with one of the shipyard lighted towers and a tall USCG sign. He says go in that direction, and then gave me a ton of instructions about where to go in the actual building. FYI I haven't been even awake before 8 or 9 am in weeks so I got as far as going in the direction of the smokestack and figured I could discern the rest once there. How hard could it be to find Massachussetts street and a federal building? I thanked Andy and went on my merry way, theorizing how my maritime guardian angels were all named Andy and had very Maritime-related last names (Drake, McKee, Crawford). When I reached the area of the smokestack I was in Pioneer Square. No federal building. I walked around a few blocks, looking for Massachussetts Street. No luck. I thought I'd head over to the ferry dock and ask around over there. There was a street map of downtown outside the ferry dock. No Massachussetts street. Five middle eastern taxi drivers were having a big argument about men wearing skirts and one guy asked me to justify that I'd seen this phenomenon. "yes, kilts" I replied. "SEE!? Kilts! She's seen it!" and they went on like this while I made my way up the ferry terminal to find a better map. Nothing was available, so I walked back down to the guys with Seattle maps imprinted in their brains (the taxi drivers) and asked them to point me in the right direction. "Massachussetts? You want me take you there? ok then well go south on first until you hit it. It's south". So great I was on my way and heading south on first, walking by some of the same bums and people walking their dogs, down, down first. Down, down, wow this seems far from Andy's smokestack... I found a busdriver at a bus stop and asked him if I was close to my street. Just a few more blocks he says. I look to my right and see a big Coastie vessel over the top of a building and ask myself "am I really all the way back by the USCG base?" and this is affirmed once I hit Massachussets street to find nothing on it but buldozers and lighting stores, until it meets up with the USCG base across Alaskan Way.
At which point my eyes get a little wet with frustration.
Swearing that I will figure this crap out, and hoping I don't see Andy Crawford again, I walk the front of the base again. Two young Coastie girls picking up trash walk up and I ask them if they know where the Regional Exam Center is. They've never heard of such a thing. And look interested but still confused when I tell them it's where people apply for their captain's licenses. One girl tells me to go to the USCG front gate and talk to "a large black man named Mr. Gatti". I thank them and minutes later I find Mr. Gatti, who informs me that indeed the REC has moved and it's now at 9th and Jackson. I thank him as well and start another trek downtown, this being the 4th time I've walked this distance. Downtown I pass several streets, but not Jackson, and when I reach the streets I know, I realize I'm not going to pass Jackson anytime soon. My backpack is heavy. My legs hurt. It's after 9am. I sit down in front of a tall building near 2nd and Cherry with stonehenge-like rocks decorating it's terrace. The bench reeks of urine. I'm close to a bus stop and thinking my transfer will get me back south, where Jackson must be, I wait for a bus. I see a bus that says it's going south and hop on, only to find that it's getting on Highway 99, next stop West Seattle. As it turns the corner towards the highway I ask the jerry-curled driver if this bus goes to King Street Station (the train station near Jackson) and he says No. I say "i'm stuck on here, aren't I?" to which he actually replies "yep. unless you wanna give me something." I realize he is wanting me to slip him some cash and I just slink back. I sit there, way past crying, and just finally relaxed in a warm seat and laughing a bit to myself. In West Seattle I get off and jerry curl tells me what return bus to catch. On the next bus I'm pretty mellowed out and enjoying the morning sun behind mount Rainier, and those cool UFO clouds above it. I get off the bus again, near Jackson, and find 2nd and Jackson straightaway. No federal building. There's a county building where a security guard tells me "nope, no Coast Guard Regional Exam office here" and I almost tear up again but instead head over to Zeitgeist coffee, where I cannot get wifi, then to Tullys, where wifi is spotty, but up long enough to google a map for the actual REC address, which turned out to be 2nd and Marion. Mean-faced and haggard I hike up 2nd and find myself at a building I'd passed twice already this morning. The same one with pee-smelling benches.
So, 3 hours after my trek began and with one hour to spare before having to head to work, I arrive at the REC. They laugh at my plastic sleeves and notes and take my fingerprints on a cool scanning machine. They charge me $100 and tell me I should have my license in 4 weeks.
THE END
First the lesson: Never attempt an important errand without a thoroughly researched plan. You know that attitude that some people have... those people who say to me "Kim, you plan too much, you worry too much! Relax! Everything'll work out." Yeah you know who you are. Can I blame this morning on you? I won't. I'll take the blame. I'm a dufus. I'm a dufus because instead of checking the address, I just ASSuMEd that the REC was in the same place it was 4 years ago - on the Coast Guard base way down the waterfront past the shipyard. Makes sense, right? Coastie office on a Coastie base? WRONG. But before anyone thinks this is going to include any kind of rant against the Seattle REC, you're dead wrong, because they have always been great to me.
I thought I'd planned my trip to the REC meticulously; every paper I was submitting was in it's own plastic sleeve, with a brief summary note slipped in with it, for example, a sea service letter had a note summarizing days (inland or NC) and tonnage. Plus I'd gone to bed early so that I could be there when the workers were fresh - upon their 7:30 am opening. I'd hoped for good moods and had originally planned a Monday arrival, but I'd stayed up too late. So after a 6am wakeup, and a 7:12 am bus from Capitol Hill, I was downtown near the ferry dock and walking the long straight walk out to the USCG base. The bums were still asleep in their dirty blankets, the overcast sky was hiding the morning sun, and a dockworker gave me a kind "good morning" along the way. Upon reaching the base I found no way to enter in the usual spot, and saw a sign that said "New Entrance on Massachussetts Ave." I stepped towards the road and looked up and down Alaskan Way, squinting to see distant street signs. Which way was Massachussetts? I wondered. I couldn't remember. I looked around, feeling lost, and figured I'd start walking north to look at some street signs a little closer. A kind looking man was walking briskly in the opposite direction, and he smiled at me and said "Are you looking for the REC?" relieved, I said I was and he proceeded to tell me that he was Andy Crawford, and that he could give me directions. At this point I'm thinking "Andy Crawford! Of the reputedly excellent Crawford Nautical School just one mile north. This is definitely a man who can help me." With his nice smile, Andy points points towards all the buildings downtown and tells me to look at a black smokestack. He tells me basically to line the black smokestack up with one of the shipyard lighted towers and a tall USCG sign. He says go in that direction, and then gave me a ton of instructions about where to go in the actual building. FYI I haven't been even awake before 8 or 9 am in weeks so I got as far as going in the direction of the smokestack and figured I could discern the rest once there. How hard could it be to find Massachussetts street and a federal building? I thanked Andy and went on my merry way, theorizing how my maritime guardian angels were all named Andy and had very Maritime-related last names (Drake, McKee, Crawford). When I reached the area of the smokestack I was in Pioneer Square. No federal building. I walked around a few blocks, looking for Massachussetts Street. No luck. I thought I'd head over to the ferry dock and ask around over there. There was a street map of downtown outside the ferry dock. No Massachussetts street. Five middle eastern taxi drivers were having a big argument about men wearing skirts and one guy asked me to justify that I'd seen this phenomenon. "yes, kilts" I replied. "SEE!? Kilts! She's seen it!" and they went on like this while I made my way up the ferry terminal to find a better map. Nothing was available, so I walked back down to the guys with Seattle maps imprinted in their brains (the taxi drivers) and asked them to point me in the right direction. "Massachussetts? You want me take you there? ok then well go south on first until you hit it. It's south". So great I was on my way and heading south on first, walking by some of the same bums and people walking their dogs, down, down first. Down, down, wow this seems far from Andy's smokestack... I found a busdriver at a bus stop and asked him if I was close to my street. Just a few more blocks he says. I look to my right and see a big Coastie vessel over the top of a building and ask myself "am I really all the way back by the USCG base?" and this is affirmed once I hit Massachussets street to find nothing on it but buldozers and lighting stores, until it meets up with the USCG base across Alaskan Way.
At which point my eyes get a little wet with frustration.
Swearing that I will figure this crap out, and hoping I don't see Andy Crawford again, I walk the front of the base again. Two young Coastie girls picking up trash walk up and I ask them if they know where the Regional Exam Center is. They've never heard of such a thing. And look interested but still confused when I tell them it's where people apply for their captain's licenses. One girl tells me to go to the USCG front gate and talk to "a large black man named Mr. Gatti". I thank them and minutes later I find Mr. Gatti, who informs me that indeed the REC has moved and it's now at 9th and Jackson. I thank him as well and start another trek downtown, this being the 4th time I've walked this distance. Downtown I pass several streets, but not Jackson, and when I reach the streets I know, I realize I'm not going to pass Jackson anytime soon. My backpack is heavy. My legs hurt. It's after 9am. I sit down in front of a tall building near 2nd and Cherry with stonehenge-like rocks decorating it's terrace. The bench reeks of urine. I'm close to a bus stop and thinking my transfer will get me back south, where Jackson must be, I wait for a bus. I see a bus that says it's going south and hop on, only to find that it's getting on Highway 99, next stop West Seattle. As it turns the corner towards the highway I ask the jerry-curled driver if this bus goes to King Street Station (the train station near Jackson) and he says No. I say "i'm stuck on here, aren't I?" to which he actually replies "yep. unless you wanna give me something." I realize he is wanting me to slip him some cash and I just slink back. I sit there, way past crying, and just finally relaxed in a warm seat and laughing a bit to myself. In West Seattle I get off and jerry curl tells me what return bus to catch. On the next bus I'm pretty mellowed out and enjoying the morning sun behind mount Rainier, and those cool UFO clouds above it. I get off the bus again, near Jackson, and find 2nd and Jackson straightaway. No federal building. There's a county building where a security guard tells me "nope, no Coast Guard Regional Exam office here" and I almost tear up again but instead head over to Zeitgeist coffee, where I cannot get wifi, then to Tullys, where wifi is spotty, but up long enough to google a map for the actual REC address, which turned out to be 2nd and Marion. Mean-faced and haggard I hike up 2nd and find myself at a building I'd passed twice already this morning. The same one with pee-smelling benches.
So, 3 hours after my trek began and with one hour to spare before having to head to work, I arrive at the REC. They laugh at my plastic sleeves and notes and take my fingerprints on a cool scanning machine. They charge me $100 and tell me I should have my license in 4 weeks.
THE END
Miss March
My friend Cass, featured in many shots below, is "Miss March" in the calendar recently published by her bike club. BUY THIS CALENDAR!!!!
Hello, Plano!
another storm in Seattle! mostly this means You'd Be Stupid To Drive ANYWHERE. oh, and beware leaving breakables under large old trees (like your truck, if you have one).
last night i rec'd a sample copy of the zine i'm working on. i was pretty satisfied, though the publisher acquaintance of mine had tweaked my whole magazine in InDesign and gave me an extra copy showing how he could do it that way. it made me nervous because the whole thing was laid out differently, including every font being changed. i felt guilty telling him i wanted to stick with my design, because here he was trying to help, but mine looks a little DIY on purpose, and he might not "get" that.
by the way, if you, reader, did not get an email from me requesting your home mailing address, and you would like a copy of this 'zine, please email me at jacktarzine(at)gmail.com
everyone who actually donated money ($20 or more) or time to the effort will get a year subscription and a few little extras. one of the extras is a cute button designed by The Beard.
other news - I am applying to boats to work during late spring & summer! can't wait to get back on the water. i guess i'll take the laptop with me and put together the zine from the water, wherever I am.
The title is referring to whomever lives in Plano, Texas and reads this blog. You've been a mystery to me for a year now. Still... Jonathans in Bremerton and Illinois, and numerous folks in LA, thanks for keeping up with me! As well as Mason, Erik, and Mark (I think). Did I miss anyone?
2007 is going to be a kick ass year for all of us!!!!
O Canada
today an 80 year old woman asked me if i wanted to hear a story. here it is.
"i've been a nurse for over 60 years now, and a few years back i met another nurse from Vancouver, BC. she spoke of a young woman who came into the ER for an emergency appendectomy. this girl had purple hair, tattoos, funny clothes... and upon preparing her for her surgery they found her pubic hair had been dyed green! and above that there was a tattoo. it said 'keep off the grass'. so they prepared her for surgery, fixed her all up, and sent her off with a note written along her abdomen - 'sorry, had to mow the lawn'."
and just to be funny/gross i thought i'd find a nice pic to go along with this, but THIS is all i could find.
"i've been a nurse for over 60 years now, and a few years back i met another nurse from Vancouver, BC. she spoke of a young woman who came into the ER for an emergency appendectomy. this girl had purple hair, tattoos, funny clothes... and upon preparing her for her surgery they found her pubic hair had been dyed green! and above that there was a tattoo. it said 'keep off the grass'. so they prepared her for surgery, fixed her all up, and sent her off with a note written along her abdomen - 'sorry, had to mow the lawn'."
and just to be funny/gross i thought i'd find a nice pic to go along with this, but THIS is all i could find.
Honey Hole
Wondershowzen worthy, for sure!
Last night I joined Jarad, Jes & The Beard at Honey Hole. Jes & The Beard were chatting it up and Jarad was pretty hammered (J & J had already been to happy hour at CHAC earlier). I had a cherry popper, which was tasty - vodka, tonic, lemonade w/a lemon wedge and a maraschino. And I'm not much of a vodka person.
I watched Jarad down a sickening amount of chicken wings (he's paying for it today) and we all watched a little Daily Show for a bit.
Today is pretty stormy. There's supposed to be gusts of up to 40mph on land and 65mph on water! Made me think of my old Victoria Clipper days - near pitch-poling in an 8 foot CHOP in the Straits near San Juan Island. Beer bottles rolling across the upper deck and cleaning up pax puke. Good times. Those fancy jet engines on Clipper IIII actually STOP RUNNING when they're out of the water. So... all that... then the engines die. Keep Smiling!!! The pax are watching!
Tuesday Night Jig
I joined Jes and Jarad at Neumo's last night for a holiday party/Pogue's tribute/Sound Magazine promo party thingamajig. Some hot guy was hitting on Jes and Jarad was jumping up and down to the irish music. I joined them and promptly got trashed and started stomping around to old faves like "Heave away, haul away" and "Turkish Song of the Damned" played by about 8 musicians who were current and past members of Decemberists (current member Jenny Conlee pictured here), and the Eels, and Minus 5. There was no more than 100 people in the dancing crowd. It was very relaxed and a lot of fun.We then hit the Comet for more beer and Slayer, closed that place down, and walked to Dicks on Broadway with only $5. Jes got some food then we had to go get her car (get this - a convertible 2-seater Mazda MIATA! who woulda thunk?) so we could go to the JackintheBox drive thru. Yeah you're thinking "Hypocrite!" and you're right. There's sober standards and drunk standards, y'know. Jes hadn't had fast food in, like, years, I think. After all that I served up brownies w/ice cream, toasted almonds & hot caramel.
And now I'm at work again and they are out playing (in Ballard, I think). Ho hum :(
The Armada
Been listening to Groove Armada while traveling via foot & bus lately. They're really good for those activities.
Meat, Milk, and The First Amendment
Upon arriving at work today there was a copy of the Everett Herald, in which I found an article about students north of Seattle at both Everett High School and Cascade High School. The threat of censorship inspired them to create underground newspapers, and they're getting plenty of donations to operate the papers. That rocks. Yay for smart youth.
One of the articles they put in their paper was about the Everett Massacre, which I had never heard of. Shouldn't we have learned about this in Washington State History? Back in freshman year at high school? It was a shootout between Wobblies and local authorities back in 1916. Interesting stuff. Click my links. The photo was found at heraldnet.com
My big adventure of the weekend was a trip to Whole Foods for MEAT. I bought $50 worth of pig, cow and chicken edibles. I'd been waiting a while to make this trip. Later on I bought some milk (for the first time in a LONG time). Safeway has an organics label called "O Organics". I of course bought it because it was cheaper than Horizon but I was a little wary of a Lucerne/Safeway brand that calls itself organic, especially knowing that under the Bush administration the definitions and restrictions on what's called organic has been way tweaked for the benefit of large corporations (more slack in the processing requirements, for the most part). But hey, we were making brownies so I simply HAD to have milk. When I poured the glass last night, well I have some kind of aversion to milk in general that started with my freshman HS biology teacher showing us highly magnified globules of milkfat on a giant screen - wait, no, I think it started when my stepmother forced me to drink dyed green milk on St. Patrick's day at age 9. The idea of green milk made me sick at the time, so she sent me to my room and forbid me to go to my rollerskating party. ANYWAY... I decided to research "O Organics" and found that the main difference between real organic and these take-advantage-of-relaxed-labeling organic milk is that the Safeway cows probably don't graze. They are probably being milked 3 times per day, with no time to graze, so they're kept in a lot and fed grain, which isn't natural for cows (according to the articles I read). That explains why Horizon milk tastes better and "O Organics" milk tastes more like regular crap milk. But I'll probably still drink more of this one carton. My budget doesn't allow buying all-organic, but I'm trying to stick to natural animal products, at least. I'd rather spend $5 for one pound of more natural ground beef, ground in the store and sold bulk, and spread out over a few meals and a stew, than 5 jackinthebox junior bacon cheeseburgers.
In other news, it's raining again...and.... Jesika comes up tomorrow! Yippee!
blogger & myspace = love/hate
blogger sucks and if i knew one damn thing about personal webpages and blogs and customizing them, and who's a better blog site to go with, i'd do it. but crap, i've written 2 novel's worth of junk on this page! blogger went "beta" and merged with google or something, and everything's kablooey.
i also hear that myspace is going to the dogs, which is no surprise, since myspace sucks too. it sucks, and yet i love it. seems a common theme in my life. here's a positive spin on that... yin yang, right? yeah but to such extremes?
ok i'll stop for now with the No Internal Dialogue problem. this is what happens when kim has such easy internet access AND daily coffee.
i also hear that myspace is going to the dogs, which is no surprise, since myspace sucks too. it sucks, and yet i love it. seems a common theme in my life. here's a positive spin on that... yin yang, right? yeah but to such extremes?
ok i'll stop for now with the No Internal Dialogue problem. this is what happens when kim has such easy internet access AND daily coffee.
rat tat tat
Seattle restaurant that I do NOT recommend: Jai Thai. I wasn't feeling very adventurous when I ordered phud thai, but they still botched that old standby. Slimiest noodles ever, except when my cook-boyfriend 10 years ago tried to make thai noodles at home and produced the most disgusting plate of squirmy yuckiness, and then got really ticked off at me for not thinking it was great. I couldn't eat thai for a YEAR after that. He was a good cook besides that, though. Oh yeah and ever since Fast Food Nation the idea of much meat intake makes me nauseous, and they put chicken in it instead of the tofu I requested. Jarad's been annoyed with my crap-quality-meat avoidance, which IS kind of a nuisance, considering our finances. After reading Diet for a New America at an early age, working in the natural foods industry, living in Seattle & Portland, then this year watching The Corporation and Fast Food Nation, it makes perfect sense that I would not only want to puke at the thought of eating mass-produced meat, not to mention the terrible KARMA that goes into that crap, which is made very evident in FFN.
Saturday we went to see Ratatat and The Faint. Ratatat is a little more my style. The Faint are very polished and flashy and professional. Very good, too, but not as much my thing. The Faint feel like heroin junkies from the '80's. In a good way....? Ha ha. I don't know. Ratatat's guitarists hid behind their hair and some blinding lights, and even altered their speaking voices with the echo effect. Except for the keyboardist. He was a neat guy. I instantly liked him for wearing an old wool sweater with holes in the elbows and dirty keds. He was also very into his playing, whereas a lot of keyboardists probably just sit there and plunk away - he moved in waves with each note towards the keyboard, kind of perched on a stool and hunched towards the keys. Later he danced around a bit, and shook some little rattle that nobody could even hear, but he seemed to be having fun. I thought I hadn't cared for the rest of their albums beyond "17 Years" but it all sounded great at the Showbox.
In bigger news, I HAVE A LAPTOP NOW!!!!! Nothing else needs to be said... other than my life just improved by, like 120% because of this development.
Saturday we went to see Ratatat and The Faint. Ratatat is a little more my style. The Faint are very polished and flashy and professional. Very good, too, but not as much my thing. The Faint feel like heroin junkies from the '80's. In a good way....? Ha ha. I don't know. Ratatat's guitarists hid behind their hair and some blinding lights, and even altered their speaking voices with the echo effect. Except for the keyboardist. He was a neat guy. I instantly liked him for wearing an old wool sweater with holes in the elbows and dirty keds. He was also very into his playing, whereas a lot of keyboardists probably just sit there and plunk away - he moved in waves with each note towards the keyboard, kind of perched on a stool and hunched towards the keys. Later he danced around a bit, and shook some little rattle that nobody could even hear, but he seemed to be having fun. I thought I hadn't cared for the rest of their albums beyond "17 Years" but it all sounded great at the Showbox.
In bigger news, I HAVE A LAPTOP NOW!!!!! Nothing else needs to be said... other than my life just improved by, like 120% because of this development.
