The plane pivots on its wheels, on the runway, like a cannon butt pointing south. At once we are in the air, lifted, and the sun makes a shadow of our plane on the clouds, a cartoon-plane, and the sun… Read More ›
Seattle
The Service Elevator
I work in a 10-story, 100 year-old office building south of downtown Seattle. Normally, I take the stairs or ride the elevators. This past week, I’ve been using a service elevator to get down to the loading dock. There’s a… Read More ›
It’s time to go
I waited for the bus uptown to get my teeth cleaned, and realized I have to do more with my life than project manage drive thru sign installations. Good money does not a good life make. I sat in the… Read More ›
A face for the homeless
I’ve been writing about the homeless who live on an alleyway by my office, in downtown Seattle. There’s an obvious irony in their existence, cast against the large, corporate office for Starbucks and all the commerce and new real estate… Read More ›
Shiftwork
I had rug pattern on my face from sleeping under my boss’s desk while she was out of town. I did it to have the experience, thinking it would yield something meaningful (now, a blog post 16 years later). I… Read More ›
Chantez, chantez
Laurent told my mom he had to go to the car to get some things, and gestured for me to join. It was the kind of gesture that implied wrongdoing, a wink from across the table. We were in the… Read More ›
Us
I was making my nest: a studio apartment at the base of Pill Hill in Seattle, basement floor. It looked onto a courtyard no one could access, and the top half of a parking lot. My bed was up on… Read More ›
Starbucks and the plastic valve
The plastic valve is called FlavorLock™. It’s a barely noticeable, plastic disc inside a bag of coffee that lets aromatic gasses out, but prevents oxygen from getting in. I can’t figure out who invented the technology, but it changed everything… Read More ›
Earthquake
A guy shouted at us, Get away from the building! My boss was pale white and crying, all the blood drawn out of her face. Doris, my colleague, looked like she was 10 years old, as if the fear of… Read More ›
Six Arms
My first bar in Seattle was Six Arms. Glen was a skinny guy who worked there and drove a silver 280-Z. He was sick with HIV, and they had a jar to collect donations for his treatments, but he died… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 