Immediate impressions, after getting off the train in Seattle. First of all, the station has been renovated after 20 years and it is white, white, and white. Gorgeous too, in spite of all that white – although they have to do something about the tacky seating from before the renovation, 1970s office wasteland. I must return for a photo shoot, bright on white.
Driving down the 12th Ave. gentrification strip, I almost can’t believe I live in this city – so pristine, cold, empty. But then we cross Pike, and I look at one of the ugly ‘60s apartment buildings that’s so familiar and yes, this is the neighborhood that I love. And when we get out of the car, I can’t believe how big the trees are, this one has leaves that go all the way across the street and I didn’t even notice it before. The air downtown was nothing much, but here already it’s so fresh.
And then later, a nighttime walk and everything is so dark, especially a few blocks away where it’s smaller buildings and then it starts to get wealthy and again it feels alienating like really, I live here, here, why? But then Volunteer Park and oh, yes, oh I can’t believe this is so close all these trees.
And yes, even a hookup in Volunteer Park that’s incredible, starting with making out right away and going into that place of frantic calm connection and I even get all three things I was thinking about, starting with the making out, the one that I thought wasn’t going to happen but then look, I’m so glad I thought it through ahead of time. And the sucking cock. And even him sucking me off and of course he’s visiting from Berkeley, only here are a few more days, but what a welcome, this must be an omen, it must be, right? I will not look for more too soon, I promise — I know it will only get worse.
And then the walk back, and I’m thinking about how environmentally I love Seattle or at least my neighborhood, how I’m so sensitive to my immediate surroundings, like I could be 10 blocks away and hate it but right where I live it’s perfect. Except culturally I don’t know: Seattle is so bland and middle-class, people so frightened of most of what’s supposed to make cities splendid: connection, random connection, at least contact, on the street or wherever, crossing paths, making new ones, building something from these gestures. I think I can find what I want anyway, the worlds that mean something to me, they are here too, and now’s the time to figure it all out, I think.