Don’t Call It A Comeback…

Primate observing a globe

I know I haven’t posted here for a long time, but I hope to change that starting now. At some point, through a steady diet of an introverted existence, barrage of social media, cable news, and numerous other factors, I found my world to be a cacophony. “More noise please,” as one of my favorite local poets once so eloquently summed it up. It is often more beneficial to take the time to listen, instead of just waiting for your turn to speak. So, for better or worse, that was exactly what I chose to do for the better part of this past year. I deactivated my Twitter account, along with many other such unnecessary distractions. The few I did keep, I cut to the bone–keeping only the people I have met in meatspace, or the very few who interact and genuinely seem to care. I suppose you could call it an internet detox, or a sabbatical, me time, or whatever you will. I turned the volume down. But I want that to change.

To be honest, I have missed the thrill and challenge of letting it all hang out through writing and blogging on a public level. For years I have wanted to write about various topics and parts of my life that seem shameful in retrospect, yet still to this very day make me feel vulnerable and scared to expose to the world. That’s how I know, deep in my heart, that I still need to write those stories. Apparently they won’t stop haunting me until I make it so. Many have been germinating in my mind for years. I feel they are ready to come to fruition soon. I hope I’ll have the courage to click “publish” and share them. If even one person can in any way relate, then it will have been worth it. Even if no one does, it will have still been a worthy endeavor on a personal level.

In closing, I apologize for my prolonged absence. I hope you’ll understand. I promise to temper watching and listening to this:


While doing a whole hell of a lot more of this:


As always, thank you for reading, and your support.

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Take Another Little Piece Of My Heart, Seattle

Seattle, Capitol Hill, Value Village,

Yet another bastion of Seattle weirdness went quietly into the night with nary a whimper. Employer of punks, artists, college kids, salty lifers, drag queens, and pretty much the entire assortment of people who helped make Capitol Hill such a desirable, vibrant community, Value Village was a cornerstone of the local economy while being an almost magical destination to boot. Even if you don’t live here, you might know it from that one Macklemore video I hear the kids like. Yeah, THAT one. But the store was much more than that. For folks looking to find unique, affordable, environmentally-friendly clothing options, books, records, vintage treasures, home furnishings, cosplay materials, and everything in-between, Value Village was a Mecca. Sadly, it has closed its doors for the final time.

Sitting outside Value Village as the lights went out indefinitely, while eyeing the empty and “For Lease” space which used to be home to The Crypt, it was hard to ignore that sinking feeling. Seattle is changing. Rapidly. Scarily so. Old band practice spaces, beloved dive bars, affordable housing, and various indie businesses are being pushed out at an alarming rate; only to replaced by condos, upscale retail boutiques, and pretentious overpriced restaurants. Gentrification. It’s happening everywhere. Probably where you live too. Hell, before they got their fancy current digs, world-renowned outdoor supplier, REI, used to slum it in the space Value Village called home. By no means am I one of those anti-progress types. Cities change and evolve. For better or worse. I accept that fact. It comes with the territory. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that I’m watching my city lose its soul and die in an excruciating manner, every day by passing day.

Seattle Value Village Capitol Hill

Once the lights had dimmed for the final time, a “Value Village Goodbye Party” was being held across the street in a venue with vintage video game cabinets, local art, and most importantly–a bar. Would it be a party or a wake? Expecting to run into a few friends who had just lost their jobs, I thought I should stop in and maybe buy a couple of drinks for them as a show of support.

The scene that met me was more upbeat than I had imagined. A slideshow of VV memories was being projected onto a wall, met by hearty laughs and ribbing from former employees and customers. There were more of them than I expected, and less people than I had hoped would be there to pay their respects.

JP Farquar, Seattle, street art

I’ll miss JP Farquar’s murals and art at Value Village most of all. Just seeing his work always made my days that much better.

It was difficult to breach the topic of how employees felt about the change. Apparently they only had two weeks notice. Many were transferring to other stores. A few seemed dismal. A few seemed to be taking it in stride and saying it was just the kick in the pants they needed to move on to bigger and better things. Almost all of them were adamant that, despite everything, they would not be pushed out of their neighborhood.

As I surveyed the crowd one last time before leaving, I realized that they were made up of the very people I loved and moved down here to live with. Old Seattle. Determined. Wickedly intelligent. Creative. Diverse. Delightfully weird. I hope we all can manage to surf the tsunami of change washing over this city. Knowing there are others out there makes me feel even more resolute. Godspeed, you magnificent bastards.

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Some Thoughts On May Day Violence in Seattle

Seattle May Day PosterAs I rode the rumbling, creaky 49 bus up to Seattle Central Community College to witness firsthand the annual Seattle May Day anti-capitalist protest on Capitol Hill, I hoped that this year would be different, yet couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that events would play out exactly as everyone expected. Arriving at my destination to be greeted by a growing crowd of demonstrators, massive police presence, the relentless drone of news helicopters overhead, and various real life superheroes mugging for the camera, did little to assuage my reservations about what was surely to come. Despite two peaceful May Day marches earlier in the day, the anti-capitalist protest has a history of exploding into violence and mayhem. This year was no different, and quickly devolved into a display of isolated rioting, along with the completely expected overreaction by police. Nearly a week later I’m still trying to understand what, if any, message was conveyed by this increasingly cliche annual public display. Is there not a better way?


Don’t get me wrong, I think the right to peacefully assemble is one of our most important and empowering freedoms. Many people will happily vote, sign online petitions, and engage in minimal effort forms of slacktivism, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Fewer people will attend public hearings on various issues, volunteer in their communities, or attend protests and marches for the causes they believe in. In my experience it has always been exhilarating to meet other individuals in the real world who not only care about the same causes, but are willing to publicly stand up and help to spread awareness about those issues. Such assembly is vastly more rewarding and uniting than getting yet another hashtag to trend on Twitter. But when the “peaceful” part of the right to peaceful assembly is discarded, so is much of the intended message. Some people would argue that violent protests are what draws attention to certain issues, and in some extreme cases they might have a point. In the case of Seattle’s May Day protests, violence seems like the only story. None of the news media outlets seemed to asking about the issues the marches hoped to raise awareness about, only the potential for violence.


Seattle May Day Gun Guy

Notice the rifle slung over this guy’s right shoulder. His views on open carry advocacy didn’t go over well with many of the “anarchist” crowd. Here he’s being confronted and asked to leave. Strangely, no one seemed to take much notice of the few other people wearing holstered sidearms.

Speaking of issues, what were the causes highlighted by this year’s circus? I witnessed a lone gentleman handing out flyers outlining the history of May Day. I saw a few anti-capitalist signs and some signs about police brutality, but anarchy symbols seemed to be the most popular “message” by far. Talk about a completely squandered opportunity. There are so many vital current issues which could and should have been the focus of this protest: economic inequality, the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TTP), Shell using the Port of Seattle to launch their Arctic oil drilling efforts, corporate substudies… and countless others! I didn’t hear a peep, see any petitions, or even a single flyer about about any of these issues. I witnessed no discernible education or outreach efforts of any kind. To me, that in itself is the most damning indictment against this particular group of demonstrators (who, for the record, were overwhelmingly white and in their 20s). I remember being impressed by how many WTO and Occupy protesters seemed fairly educated about their issues and wanted to raise awareness. A disturbing number of these May Day protesters seemed to only be concerned with playing on their phones, taking selfies, and scrawling anarchy symbol graffiti. Much to the disapproval of almost everyone in attendance, a few open carry protesters were even in the crowd. At least a dozen confused passersby stopped to ask me what was going on. I tried my best to offer explanations, focusing on the reasons I was there, but ended up conceding that I didn’t think most people at the protest really knew for sure themselves.

After ongoing fallout from a damning DOJ investigation into the Seattle Police Department, a new mayor and police chief, and a relatively restrained response by the SPD to the protest last year, everyone was curious to see how it would go this year. There was a massive build up of police forces in set staging areas just beyond the perimeter of the rally at the college. This was, by no means, the SPD’s first rodeo. Over the years they have amassed quite a supply of equipment to respond to such events. Their tactics have evolved too, usually deploying a very effective strategy which utilizes bicycles and mobility. The bikes serve two purposes: they can be used as makeshift barricades to herd and isolate protesters from the greater force of police trailing behind, and they are used to help wear down the energy of a walking mass of demonstrators. The the entire block of the SPD’s west precinct, located three blocks from where the protesters had gathered, was on complete lockdown. So far, it was business as usual.

Seattle May Day West Precinct

Police cruisers lined up outside the closed block of SPD’s west precinct.

Seattle May Day Police Bomb Sweep

SPD sweeps the college for bombs.

Even though this was an unpermitted march, Mayor Murray had conceded that it would be allowed to proceed, and even hinted that access to the downtown retail core could be allowed. Everything changed minutes into the actual march. Despite what many people claim, from what I saw it was a small handful of protesters breaking car windows, vandalizing, and throwing things at the trailing cops that caused the initial escalation. Instead of immediately arresting these individuals, as usual, the police quickly took a volatile situation and ignited it–lashing out against the entire march. The all too familiar scene unfolded from there. Pepper spray soaked clothes and faces. Round rubber balls were shot. Gas canisters and deafening “blast balls” were (against SPD policy) deployed directly into the largely peaceful crowd of people.

From there the mob was pushed in a loop around the hill, with some protesters throwing debris at police, and cops firing non-lethal weapons seemingly indiscriminately into the march. In the end, by the latest count, 16 people were arrested, while 9 police officers and countless civilians were injured. As Jello Biafra observed during the WTO protests:

“It only takes one rogue attacking Starbucks to taint a whole protest, and it only takes one rogue cop to fuck shit up even worse.”

Some things never seem to change. Apparently the lesson above is one that the protesters and police of Seattle have repeatedly failed to learn. So what should be done moving forward? There is already talk of just fencing the college off next year. That would mean access to Cal Anderson Park a block away would probably need be restricted as well. Should citizens take to trying to preserve the peace between protesters and cops, similar to what we saw during the protests in Baltimore? Personally, I think the best solution for individuals who just want to break stuff and put their rights above everyone else’s is to simply stay the hell away. The only real message this protest in particular seems to produce is the undeniable fact that we live in a police state.

If that is indeed the intended message, then I see little benefit in diverting more funds from the city budget to the police so they can buy more toys to be used against city residents every year, while getting what is essentially nice overtime bonuses in the process. To the average Washington citizen, watching at home as the mayhem unfolds on the news, the police are the ones viewed as the heroes, not protesters breaking things. These acts of violent civil disobedience, far from making people sympathetic to you and your causes, are in fact helping to maintain the status quo and continued militarization of the police at this point. If those results are what violent protesters want, then congratulations, you are actively and intentionally contributing to the problem. The volunteers out cleaning up the graffiti and mess the next morning quietly sent a more powerful message than the march which took place the evening before.

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Staring Into Oblivion, With You

Banksy, art, street art, graffiti, Mobile Lovers

“Mobile Lovers” by Banksy

The brilliant orange sun is setting behind the distant, jagged lavender mountains to the west. The last rays of light reflect off the emerald ocean waves, as massive ships carry containers to distant corners of the world and ferries shuttle people and cars to and fro. Birds cast impossibly acrobatic silhouettes against any and all lit surfaces as the light from the sun fades and shadows become increasingly elogated. It is such a breathtaking sight I witness out the window of my bus… And no one else sees it because they are looking at their fucking phones.

bus, train, commute, gif,

Source: @1041uuu on Ello.

No, I’m not a Luddite by any means. I love technology. Probably too much. Having all the knowledge of humanity right in our pockets is a thing we had previously only dreamed of. It is glorious. But put into perspective, we’re really not curing cancer or anything so noble with our newfound power. Instead, we’ve all become Narcisuss from Greek mythology, but instead of drowning in water, we drown ourselves in the world wide web in our own palms. Honestly, it’s really starting to creep me out. Look up from whatever you are doing on your smartphone and watch other people on the bus or in the movie theater. We’ve unwittingly become zombies. Observe the phenomena for a few minutes and tell me it doesn’t creep you out as well.

Religion and television were both labeled the “opiate of the masses” in their days, but they could only hope to be as complete and effective as that little phone in your hand. It has become our sole window to an argumentatively disturbing virtual reality which has quickly taken over our daily lives. We happily allow multiple apps to track our every move and collect massive amounts of data about us and our friends. Why does something as seemingly simple as ordering a pizza or buying movie tickets subject us to yet another new app being pushed at us? And most of us just smile and click “accept” without even thinking about it. Our expectations of liberty and privacy have been forsaken for convenience.

Instead of bringing us closer together, social networks seem to be anything but social. Antisocial, in fact. We are slowly being fractured into evermore divided little factions by the day. We vehemently attack and shame anyone with opposing points of view. Online crusades call for censorship of any dissenting opinions. There are no longer “gray” areas and lively, constructive discussion. We deal in extremisms. The tool that promised to free all speech has instead turned on us and put us in very real conflict, shackles, and gags. Civility has been forsaken. Even an actual phone conversation seems taboo now. What used to be a thirty second phone call has somehow morphed into ten minutes of texts–just to decide where we should meet up!

I say, “Enough!” For months I’ve been trying to wean myself from certain aspects of the internet. It has been tough. I’ve given up entire social networks. I turn my phone off when I’m out with friends. It feels quite similar to kicking an addictive chemical habit, and quite frankly, that is exactly what it is. People love those likes, retweets, and comments more than they realize. Such approval and validation releases endorphins into our biological systems. Social networks actively experiment on users without shame or remorse. That factor scares the hell out of me and only strengthens my resolve. I want to live in the moment and savor it. I want to watch the band play a live set, instead of taking a bunch of crumby photos or shaky video (in portrait mode) while trying in vain to document the moment. I want to have real, organic, deep conversations with people without one of us checking our phone. I want to notice and savor that sunset outside my bus window. You should too. You could even start today. Live in the here and now. Please. I miss the feeling of seeing other people not staring at a screen. I’ll be looking for you. You’ll be easy to find, as will I.

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Tick Tock Tick Tock

Marching into senilityI’ve been noticing it quite a lot lately, but tonight it really hit hard–I am old now. It crept in sneakily with stray gray hairs. An inexplicable little silver streak shot down one side of my beard almost overnight, before starting to gentrify the entire neighborhood. Nagging little aches and pains plague me more and more. I sense a gradual shift to an ever more curmudgeonly outlook on stuff and things. I am strangely at peace with it. I’d even go as far as to say that I’m happy about it.

Many people seem to try delay aging as much as possible. Hair dyes, expensive moisturizers, fad diets, mid-life crisis sports cars, boner pills, or even plastic surgery… It’s really no wonder why. We are constantly fed an endless stream of celebrities who never seem to age. Instead of viewing that scenario as the sad, hellish, and transparently desperate limbo for which it is, for some reason we seek to emulate it. “To hell with that,” I say.

Honestly, I never thought I would live past the ripe old age of 27. I tried my hardest to make it so. When that didn’t work, I doubled down to no avail. Believe me, I really gave it my best (or worst, upon reflection). I have actually been clinically dead for extended periods on two separate occasions. It shames me deeply to admit that fact, but it is what it is, and I am a stronger person now because of it. Mercifully, I’m quite glad that the stupidity of my youth did not compromise my then future, and today present. As a society, we seem to elevate people who died young to some mythical, reverent status. That notion seems completely backwards. We should be celebrating the ass-kickers who stuck it out and just got better with age.

So why do people seem so ashamed to age? I really see no shame in it whatsoever. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve more than earned every single one of my gray hairs. Every new line on your face should not be cause for a cringe, but a badge of honor. The knowledge we accumulate over our lives lets us constantly reevaluate the world in an ever more nuanced and sophisticated manner. That is a beautiful thing. As our understanding and view of the world expands, books, movies, music, art, and so much more seems to reveal previously hidden layers. In many ways, aging is vastly empowering. It is the difference between seeing the world in black-and-white or in color.

That said, by no means should we abandon everything we loved when we were young. Many people seem to fall into this trap. I still shamelessly love bike rides, comic books, video games, cartoons, and laying flat on my back in the grass while looking up into the sky as my imagination runs wild. At times, simply enjoying such undignified things earns a degree of contempt or pity from certain people I know. Ironically, I really worry about some of them in return. Some seem to be living the exact inverse of my life. It has made it difficult to maintain some relationships as I age. Maybe I’m just immature, but if your entire existence revolves around social or vocational climbing, trying to keep an underwater mortgage afloat, or the endless pursuit of material things, I pity you in a way. But I still love and respect you. I expect the same in return. Age gracefully and live life to the fullest. Old. New. Balance. Maybe come lay in the grass and look to the sky with me when you have time. Let’s compare notes.

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