Make Believe and the Art of Forgetting

Sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes your iPod is stolen at the Safeway Starbucks. When unfortunate things happen to me- I ritually go get coffee. I sit and think. After thinking for a short period, I go to my make believe apartment. This apartment is far more interesting than any other apartment I've ever lived in. This apartment even has it's own make believe neighborhood.

It's sort of like Capitol Hill. Only more beautiful. People in my make believe neighborhood are really cool. Fortunately, none of them know it. They are well dressed. Well read. Amazing dressers. They wear leather shoes and talk about Brazilian music, primarily from the sixties.

Sometimes I watch them walk down the street from my window sill.

Well.

It's more of a window seat. Really comfortable pillows are on it, sometimes it's just really comfortable wood.

It's always Sunday morning in my neighborhood. On the most perfect Spring day. I'm wearing the most comfortable sweater and underwear. Sitting on my window seat. Listening to Belle and Sebastian. Drinking really great coffee. While I watch all of my people. Walk the streets of the most perfect little city neighborhood.

I have walls of the most beautiful shade of green. I have book shelves upon book shelves of all the most inspiring well written books that ever existed. My kitchen is perfectly stocked with tea cups and spices.


This is wear I go. Sometimes I don't leave for a few days. I drift in my "real world" , but only barely. I'm floating around. I'm talking and walking and functioning but I'm not really there. I'm elsewhere. In my green room. Where people don't die, and phone bills pay themselves. Your day job consists of writing poetry and painting. Everyone loves you and you never cry. Your friends understand and your home is truly a home.

If I ever seem distant, it's because I am. I'm in the most perfect place. And there is no need to worry.

The Quiet Seattleite : a note on Wireless Internet

It's a Friday night at Victrola coffee shop, located on the trendy 15th Avenue strip. A lot of tables are filled by groups of threes and fours. The other tables are filled mainly with groups of one, with their laptop computer plugged into the wall, lattes near finished. These people look like they are diligently working on paper research, updating themselves on world affairs, checking The Stranger's I Saw U page.

So, I purchased tea (not to go, but for here instead please) and headed over to the last two person table next to an outlet left. Assuming I would join these people in their Friday night internet shenanigans, maybe work on my blog.

After a frustrating ten minutes of trying to get my internet to load, I discovered the internet was down. I got the attention of the 30 something liberal to my left. He said his computer hasn't been working the whole time either and that he was just going to go. It's been an hour. The 30 something alternative rocker behind me confesses that he too has been staring at a blank computer, just waiting around for the connection to do something for quite some time. A couple other people who were now found out to not be working on anything at all looked up. They looked anxious and hopeful at the same time, hoping for the internet they've been waiting to magically appear on their tool bar. The rocker and I decided to get the barista to re-set the internet. So she did, and the internet was back on.

A lesson to learn my dear fellow Seattle-ites...

Speak up. It's wireless internet. You're not asking the male employee at Walgreens to locate the tampon aisle for you. It's just wireless internet.