🌻⛴️🔫

We attended the annual Edible Garden Tour in Loyal Heights, where residents open their yards for a day. We sign in at the Loyal Heights Community Center and receive a map. My favorite garden was not lush or well-tended but an overgrown patch planted in a defunct driveway.

On Sunday, we go to a wedding near Kingston, WA. We take the ferry from Edmonds. I sit and watch the dark green water, jade in the crest, and nebulous islands in the offing. The slate-colored horizontal slivers of land remind me of Clyfford Still paintings.

PH-128, 1948

In Kingston, we kill time walking on NE State Highway 104, where tourists buy ice cream, coffee, and seaside bric-a-brac. A property management company caters to seasonal homeowners. Idle traffic waits for the next ferry off the island. A ferry worker brusquely directs confused but frustrated drivers to the back of the line.

Once outside the shopping district, we pass wavy open fields, sylvan patches, and clustered split levels with Home Depot deck furniture and aluminum siding.

The wedding is on a dirt road, and we park in a grass field. A lavender field is meticulously manicured, leading to a gazebo for wedding photos that are already dated. The grounds have a ranch-style house and event area. Guests arrive and are directed to a pond and the bottom of a hill where the ceremony will occur. Staff tests music, mics, and speakers and chills the whites and cucumber water.

The wedding is interfaith with a mix of Jewish and Christian traditions. When we talk to a Jewish attendee, sadly, she poses the question, “Jewish star in or out?”

***

Weed Woman was hacking away in the herbaceous borders of a Ballard Craftsmen when she heard the clang of metal. She picked up a gold-colored object that turned out to be an unused bullet. The headstamp of the bullet said S & B, 23, 9 x 19. “S & B” stands for Sellier & Bellot, a firearms manufacturer in the Czech Republic. “23” could reference the year it was produced or the production factory location. On a list of headstamp codes, 23 is listed as:

Unknown Factory, Hungary, Probably now associated with Magyar Löszergyártó Kft., Mátravidéki Fémmüvek, H-332 Sirok, Hungary

“9 x 19” is a 9mm bullet for Glock-style pistols.

Assassin

On Aurora, addicts shoot up at bus stops and piss in corners while immigrants line up for work along the Home Depot labor gauntlet as contractors in trucks drive by.

Across Aurora, Washelli Cemetary is a vast patch of manicured green surrounded by a blighted corridor. Sex workers walk along the avenue, enticing motorists to pull into parking lots and motels. Aurora reminds me of writer Richard Mabey’s idea of the “unofficial countryside,” nature fighting to survive against our anthropocentric whims and desires. We are the arch-enemy of nature -our cape emblazoned with a ©️.

This area is not a walking zone. There are old sidewalks that are thin and crumbling, underused on a stretch where there is nowhere to walk to. Vehicular detritus and convenience store trash accumulate in fencing and drifts of loose gravel—only those with no destination walk Aurora, while those that do drive.

The dead rest in Washelli.

It's a road built for cars and convenience. After revitalization projects and mini-malls failed over the decades, there is a mix of boarded-up motor inns, industrial structures, fast food, car dealers, chain stores, and vast parking lots with vast vacant commercial spaces. It's the shrimp vein of Seattle.

***

My oldest, a high school senior, plays “Assassin” with the graduating class. When I was in middle school, we called it “Killer.” Using toy darts or Nerf guns, each player is randomly assigned another player to kill. The last player standing is the winner. “Kills” cannot occur during school hours, increasing the difficulty of finding and eliminating your target.

In the eighties, the game was popular on school and college campuses. Two movies, TAG: The Assassination Game and Gotcha!, were about the game with deadlier results. I was eliminated at an 8th-grade dance in a bathroom near the gymnasium, out of breath and euphorically laughing with the player who got me - a dart under the locked stall.

Games like these are what young people need again - streets filled with neighborhood kids playing until after dark, ring cam alerts driving bourgeoisie Seattleites mad, Tesla alarms going off, Seventh Generation toilet paper strewn from the trees.

37,798.97 USD

+63.86(0.17%) ⬆️

Tropic of Capricorn

I am committed to reading a print book 30 minutes a day. My Habit Tracker keeps me on task. It does not seem like a lot, but I am exercising my brain to focus on the act of analog reading. My ability to focus and get lost in a book will return in time.

My first print book of the summer is Tropic of Capricorn by Henry Miller. It was published in 1939 by French publisher Obelisk Press. The semi-autobiographical book recounts Miller’s life in Brooklyn during the 1920s when he worked a day job to support his fledgling writing career. Tropic of Capricorn was published five years after his most recognized book, Tropic of Cancer, (1934) but predates his time in Paris, where the latter takes place.

Because of Miller’s sexual content, Tropic of Capricorn, as well as Tropic of Cancer, was banned in the United States until 1961 for being “obscene.” Obscenity trials followed, and “free speech” was tested. In 1964, The Supreme Court ruled the books were non-obscene. I wonder how today's Court would rule.

Reading Miller as an impressionable teen, my friends and I only read the sexual content. That is what Miller was known for, his schtick. Obelisk Press and founder Kahane published “DBs” or “dirty books.” It felt like you were sneaking a peek at a Playboy.

Today, I find his writing misogynistic and forever an embarrassing document of its time. It’s shockingly sophomoric. While other books had misogynistic characters, Miller employed a first-person semi-autobiographical voice, which embodied him.

Elissa Strauss, in the 2015 Elle article “10 Misogynistic Novels Every Woman Should Read,” says, “We need to read books by and about macho, sexist proto-frat boys because they are our past.”

Rabbit, Run by John Updike

On the Road by Jack Kerouac

Legends of the Fall by Jim Harrison

American Pastoral by Philip Roth

For Whom the Bells Toll by Ernest Hemingway

Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller

The Adventure of Auggie March by Saul Bellow

Women by Charles Bukowski

Lolita by Vladamir Nabokov

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

Still, Tropic of Capricorn captures 1920s New York City and the “Lost Generation,” a term coined by Gertrude Stein to define many directionless young men and women after World War 1 and before the Great Depression. Many ex-pat writers, including Miller, moved to Paris to escape the country's increasingly Conservative values and rapid capitalist growth.

In addition to misogyny, Miller used racist language and stereotypes to describe the diverse ethnicities residing in close quarters in a sweltering, un-air-conditioned New York City where toxic industry spilled into gutters in horse blood, leather tanning dyes, and dry cleaning chemicals.

Petty theft, drinking, fights, and rapey behavior were common in Miller’s world, whether true or not. He writes that he and his cousin Gene beat a kid to death but were never caught.

I'm thinking now about the rock fight one summer’s afternoon long long ago when I was staying with my Aunt Caroline up near Hell Gate. My cousin Gene and I had been corralled by a gang of boys while we were playing in the park. We didn't know which side we were fighting for but we were fighting in dead earnest amidst the rock pile by the river bank. We had to show even more courage than the other boys because we were suspected of being sissies. That's how it happened that we killed on of the rival gang. Just as they were charging us my cousin Gene let go at the ring leader and caught him in the guts with a handsome-sized rock. I let go almost at the same instance and my rock caught him in the temple and when he went down he lay there for good and not a peep out of him. A few minutes later the cops came and the boy was found dead. He was eight or nine years old, about the same age as us. What they would have done to us if they caught us I don't know. Anyway, so as not to arouse any suspicion we hurried home; we had cleaned up a bit on the way and combed our hair.

Miller’s writing doesn’t hit the same way as it did in my youth. As a self-proclaimed self-taught writer, Tropic of Capricorn has no structure, character development, or narrative arc. It's a rambling, run-on sentence. Its value is that we can question why his work was published in its time.

***

39,112.16USD

-299.05(0.76%) ⬇️

Float For A Bit

When I gamify my health, I have improved outcomes. The Habit Tracker reminds me to eat an apple a day, which keeps the nurse practitioner away (who can prescribe while the doctor is on vacation).

***

When I need pomade, a hibachi, and ingredients for a chopped Greek salad, I go to Fred Meyer. I drive through the Ballard industrial zone, where breweries have not reached yet. Near the defunct 7-Eleven and Big 5 Sporting Goods, there is human activity outside broken down vans and cars with plastic bag windows.

Jaywalking ghosts shuffle draped in wool blankets in the sun. Leaves drag like a ceremonial train. A woman sits in a broken wheelchair on the threshold of a corner sidewalk ramp and the street where puddles collect when it rains. A man sleeps in a blue recycling bin turned sideways, used food and beverage containers surprisingly far from the blue bin, yet strangely constellatory.

Once anchored by New Seasons, which closed after just two years, the mini shopping center is a place to turn around or stop to answer a phone call as smaller stores languish. Dented Winnebagos park until they are moved along by police or a homelessness task force, leaving random mechanical innards in pools of oil.

***

I go to my son's high school graduation at Memorial Stadium. The stadium was constructed in 1947 and dedicated to Seattle Public School students who died in World War 2. Seattle Public Schools owns the stadium and mainly uses it for football games, but with minimal upkeep, it needs to be updated.

Wooden benches designed by the Silent Generation, who didn’t speak up, trigger lower back pain and gluteus Maximus cheek shifting. My Tempurpedic upbringing couldn’t handle it. The once elegant water fountains out front no longer work, and the press box attached to the ceiling of the North Stands roof is brutalist, perhaps luxury seats for the autocracy.

Still, there are plans to either renovate or rebuild a new stadium, with a groundbreaking scheduled in 2025. The old structure has charm, and I hope the developers will pay homage to it.

In true Seattle fashion, intermittent cloud cover spits moisture as Seattleites flip up Patagonia shells or do nothing. Lights on timers get activated by the lead-grey sky. Getting him through high school in these challenging times is a relief as a parent. It’s not a relief that he took a step up a rung on the social ladder, but that he is free from an educational environment that was detrimental to his mental health.

For him, it was an educational experience forever interrupted by COVID-19, helicopter teachers with political agendas, asynchronous learning, and wealthy, competitive parents looking to give their children an edge. Millions of angsty selfies are buried in the depths of Snapchat servers documenting the highs and lows of mental health since the pandemic.

My son, float for a bit…drift…bob…

38,834.86USD

+56.76(0.15%) ⬆️

California Poppies

Every restaurant is either a James Beard winner, a James Beard finalist, or a James Beard contestant. Or so it seems. It means you will still be hungry when you leave that restaurant, so you stop at Dick’s.

I walk on my day off. “Congrats Class of 24” in a pane glass window. “Luxury Homes” sandwich board on an overgrown corner of California Poppies. Because they are non-native, some consider them weeds, but they provide beauty and cover for the insect world in unattended areas.

The timber of hammers and falling plywood is nearby. The workers speak in Spanish. The sound of plywood dropping sounds like gunshots, and Seattlites take to the Ring app to inquire. “Did anyone hear gunshots near NW 58th Street?”

Strong gusts. A crow carves the shape of the wind. A flattened rat has hardened into a sun-dried puck with a tail. It reminds me of dried Japanese fish snacks or a crushed soda can.

I recently purchased a longboard so I can skateboard with my daughter. Longboards are for cruising, and the deck is wider for increased control and balance. Safety is a priority, especially at my age, so my next purchase will be a helmet.

I am exploring new interests. Having varied hobbies opens us to the potential of ourselves and the world. As microbiologist Joshua Lederberg said, “Life’s a hobby.” To treat it as such is a form of non-attachment.

38,712.21USD

-35.21(0.09%) ⬇️

Seasaw Turns One

On June 1st, we celebrated one year of Seasaw. It started as a reaction to the blob of mass media that felt generic. The same stories kept surfacing. We wanted to create a weekly link drop that contained local stories and news that didn’t always beat the algorithms.

Thanks for subscribing. Here’s to another year or, at least, until Election Day, when we become a full-fledged fascist country.

🧟‍♀️🧠💀☢️🦴☠🧟💀

You District

I look for online content to fortify my fears and fragile opinions. Anything that prolongs my avoidance of the truth will keep my house of cards intact.

As Mark Twain said, “Often the surest way to convey misinformation is to tell the strict truth.”

Saturday

We drive through the U District on our way to the mall. The economy has not recovered after the pandemic when vape shops, psychics, and massage parlors rent short-lease storefronts. The gated University Village's manicured grounds and chain stores provide shop therapy and a filtered reality. I’m into linen these days. How kinky.

Qdoba is boarded, tagged, and wheat-pasted with concert posters. Pearl Jam is still touring?

The genius is in knowing when to stop.

Misty rain darkens the asphalt. A street fair is happening on the Ave. - cops, canopies, candles, kettle corn.

We pass the Neptune Theater with its digital marquee illuminating the drabness. I hope it continues to be a connection to Seattle’s past and future. I am seeing Duster at the Neptune in the fall.

Duster, a late 90s space rock band, took a 19-year hiatus between albums, returning in 2019 with the eponymous Duster album. They are even more relevant and sonically exciting today than in their early days before the breach. The drift has let creativity gestate to fecundity.

It’s inspiring. I’ve been in touch with a guitarist friend from D.C.; we’ve been discussing working on some new songs. Our band, The Shelleys, briefly played the NYC indie clubs in the mid-90s. Egos and self-sabotage got in the way.

The UW pillars are relics of collegiate well-roundedness. Today, you can major in yourself and minor in your #selfie. Be you at You W.

Sunday

We installed a sun sail on our roof to reduce the risk of melanomas (so Jewish). In the Anthropocene, skin cancer is a big deal. Eventually, we will go underground when the earth's surface is too hot for human habitation, but we assume we are exceptional. As John Green says in The Anthropocene Reviewed:

Humans are not the protagonists of this planet's story. If there is a main character, it is life itself, which makes of earth and starlight something more than earth and starlight. But in the age of the Anthropocene, humans tend to believe, despite all available evidence, that the world is here for our benefit.

The sky and clouds over Phinney Ridge do their thang.

Sharp-shinned Hawk

I recently downloaded the Merlin Bird ID by Cornell Labs. You can download regional bird packs (libraries) and identify birds via photo or sound. The app is free.

Today, I snapped this photo of a bird I don’t usually see sitting on my patio fence. It was a noticeably larger bird than, say, a crow. It had a stout breast and a wide wingspan on takeoff. The app identified the bird as possibly a Sharp-shinned Hawk.

They are known to frequent the PNW during the winter months but are rarer during breeding season due to other larger predators coasting above for prey. Most travel north to Canada to breed. They feed on smaller birds in flight and backyard bird feeders. One bird site recommends taking down bird feeders for a bit if you see one nearby.