Posts (page 2)

I had always planned on making a map of stuff while I was in England, with descriptions and pictures, but I never got around to it.  It was a painstaking process (well, that is at least if I wanted to be exact, which I did, of course) - you had to generate the KML file in Google Earth, which unfortunately did not have all of the address support (namely the UK) which was present in Google Maps, so you would end up trying to find some other way to get latitude and longitude and it just took forever.

Google recently added a new My Maps feature that makes everything simple and easy.  You can even embed your maps in blog posts.  Just create a map, add stuff to it, download the KML file and publish it to the web somewhere, copy the code that Google includes for embedding it, and add a variable q and set it to the path of the kml file (eg, ...?q=http://216.176.184.133/~steve/Seattle.kml&...).  Like so:

I guess it's probably true of any city of significant proportions.  Everytime I go to the U district, I see loads of people talking (or yelling) to themselves.  When I went to fill out the application for my apartment, when I was on the phone with my bank while waiting for a bus, some guy randomly walked up to me, tried to punch me in the face, circled me for a while, told me he was going to kill me, yelled something about me talking about him, and then got on a bus.

I had to go back out there today, this time to sign the lease (woohoo!) and there was one guy screaming to himself - something about New Jersey being more peaceful - and erratically walking and stopping in the middle of the road.  When I got on the bus, an older lady kept whispering to herself and then either nodding or shaking her head energetically.  Whatever.

I finally got everything sorted with rent and all.  It's just my luck that after being on the phone with my bank in Baton Rouge almost nonstop for the past few days that right when we'd reached a solution, a storm causes their entire system to go down leaving me high and dry for most of the day.  While we're on the subject of banks, I'm really impressed with mine here.  I called and explained the situation, and the branch manager offered to draft up the checks I needed and deliver them to me at home.  Like woah.  Now that's service.  Take notes.

Wow.  You really haven't seen a film until you've watched it with 150 other people.  I liked the movie before, but I absolutely love it now.  Every triumph of Westley, Inigo, Fezzik, and Buttercup was met by applause, cheers, shouts, and whistles from the crowd.  The dialogue is fantastic, and the love scenes, celebrated with catcalls, were dead on.

Take this scene for example: (right here)

Westley: "Why didn't you wait for me?"
Buttercup: "Well, you were dead."
Westley: "Death cannot stop true love; it can only delay it for a while."
Buttercup: "I will never doubt again."
Westley: "There will never be a need."

Now, come on.  This movie was awesome without even trying.  Compare this with wretched dialogue in the latest installment of Star Wars.

And the cast is incredible: Cary Elwes, Andre the Giant, Robin Wright Penn, Billy Crystal, Peter Falk, Fred Savage, Christopher Guest.

There was never a dull moment.

Anyway, Fremont is awesome.

I stopped in the music shop (Dusty Strings) to check out the wares, and I could not have been prepared for the wonders therein - guitars, mandolins, ukes, banjos, harps, accordions, dulcimers (both hammer and lap ones), djembes, marimbas, dhols, bongos all lined the space which was decorated with arrangements of very old and hand-painted instruments.  I will have no trouble figuring out what to do with my paycheck.  When I started to leave (some time later), I noticed that there was a lap dulcimer suspended above the entrace.  Further inspection revealed a pick attached to the top of the door.  When the door was opened or closed, the pick would strum the strings of the dulcimer - much more appropriate than the usual chime.  The way out was lined with profiles of the employees - the people who cut the wood, the ones who make it look nice, and the technicians that make them sound just right, all obviously extremely passionate about their work.

The live music scene is awesome.  There was music everywhere.  After skipping around a few bars (The Dubliner, where I watched a pool tourney, and The Red Door, where I quickly about-faced as soon as I walked in), I stopped in TOST (pronounced 'toast') to hear a local five piece - drums, guitar, female vocals, turntables and laptop.  They put on a damn good show.

Finally, I may have found myself a place - pretty much every thing I was looking for except with no in-unit washer and dryer and a bit more expensive (totally worth it for the area).  I saw an ad listed on Craiglist, but couldn't get in touch with the management, so I decided just to walk by anyway.  I ended up running into the owner and he showed me around.  I may be ahead of the game, but I still need to get to the office and fill out all of the paperwork so I can be first in line for the place.  It's mad looking for a place around here right now; there are just so many other desperate people looking for accomodation.  I hope I find an apartment soon, so I can stop worrying about that and get other things done.

That's all.  Peace out.

Well, I found a place - $750 for a studio in Eastlake (right across the lake from work) with a pull-down bed, washer/dryer, all utilities included, with hardwood floors and loads of natural light.  The place is absolutely stunning:

The ad was posted online at 10:16am PDT.  I was second to arrive at about 11:40a (would have been first, had I not been on foot.)  I filled out an application and left a cheque for the application fee of $25.  When I got back to work, the guy had already called Emma for a work reference and wanted me to call him back.

I turned it down.  Why?  Because it's in an area that detached from everything else - no libraries, no pubs, no markets, no people.  I could take the bus to these places, but it's always nice to be in the middle of it.

But I'm torn.  It was such a nice place (WITH A WASHER AND DRYER AND ALL UTILITIES INCLUDED AND HARDWOOD FLOORS).  And the guy sounded shattered when I turned it down (probably because Emma had talked me up so well).

Guy: "You have doubts?"
Me: "Yeah.  It's just the area.  It's sort of far out of the way."
Guy: "Oh."
Me: "I don't want to hold you up from finding another tenant.  The apartment is fantastic, though."
Guy: "Okay."

I can't deal with letting people down.  Not very well at all.

And then I checked my phone and found out that I had a missed call from someone at the DA's office in Louisiana.  That one threw me for a loop.  What could it be about?  (Unfiled income taxes, maybe?)

Word.

After Happy Hour at McCormick's Harbourside (and a few glasses of Nightwatch Maritime (brewed in Fremont!)), I decided to have a look at Capitol Hill.  It was a bit of a walk - around 9 miles by the end of it - but hey!  I've got time.

I didn't know exactly where it was, except that it was East of Lake Union and on a hill.  I found a mountain bike track that went under the interstate, complete with dirt ramps.  There were also circles of sizable rocks and logs suggesting the occasional pow-wow.  It was here, but on the return trip, that "Under the Bridge" was firmly lodged in my brain.

When I made it to the road above, some guy directed me to Broadway St., which from what I'd heard was more or less the center of the Capitol Hill community.  Once there, I was able to confirm everything I'd heard about the place - alternative, metropolitan, and with a considerable LGBT community (see the church).  It's definitely hip - old-fashioned drive-in restaurants, city grills, Indian restaurants, and a park with a pretty awesome fountain.  It also had more than it's share of homeless and addicts.  Definitely lots of cool people and events, but it didn't strike me as where I'd like to live - Fremont is still tops.

I stopped in a world goods shop (Africa Mama - one of many on the stretch) for a look.  The djembes (from Senegal) were a bit pricey $300 - but the owner was willing to give me a deal.  He's going out of business on the 30th and is trying to sell his stuff.  He told me to name my price.  The drums were huge and weren't really worth to me anything that would be a reasonable offer.  He eventually suggested $225 and threw in a carrying bag, but I turned him down again - I don't really have any place to store or play it right now, and honestly, it was not as nice as the one I bought in Ireland, though it was about 3x larger.  On my way out, he offered me a $65 drum from Ghana for $35, too, but I just told him that I'd try to come back before they shutdown for good and went to get myself a milk-shake.

On the way home, I had a little trouble finding my way back to the path in the dark, but after a short while of wandering through the bushes it appeared.  I took my time walking back along the water - the moon was bright and the way the wind was hitting the waves made it look like it was flowing a thousand miles an hour.  When I passed Seattle Seaplanes (tours and flight instruction!), I stopped to feel the water.  I was bid good evening by a mirthful pair sitting on a bench.  The woman asked my name and took my hand.  She urged me to sit for a while and enjoy myself while not seeming to want to let go of my hand - eventually I consented.

She introduced the man beside her as her brother - though as I was to find that this was more figurative than literal.  As to her own identity: "Do you watch movies a lot?  Have you seen Dances with Wolves?  That's me."  I got the impression that she meant her tribe, but she may have meant just that she was Indian, or maybe she believed that she was an actress in the film - I don't know.  Anyway, she told me that she's been in Seattle for a long time and, in very slurred speech, expressed some of the prejudice she'd encountered.  She made a joke about sharks trying to get her beer ("They must be alcoholics, too!"), told me that I must be a singer and that she is very good at what she does, and then launched extemporaneously into a song about warriors.  She sang very deeply - even moaning at times - about knowing and unknowing and people and places and relationships.  The man beside her commented that she had some dark stuff inside, and then launched into "Everything's Alright" from Jesus Christ Superstar until, in the middle of the second verse, he forgot the words and facepalmed.  He grew up listening to Jesus Christ Superstar and Godspell - his late mother took him to the opera in DC when he was 10 years old.  He's been thinking of his mother a lot lately.

This divulgence launched Dances with Wolves into a speech about mothers, which somehow led to her calling Bob a baby.  After listening to them argue about anything and nothing for a few more minutes, it was time I started back.  As I rose to leave, Bob apologized for anything he might have said to offend.  Nonsense.  I had a long handshake from Dances with Wolves shook my hand for a while, told me how smart I was, and then asked me for a dollar, a beer, a cell phone, and a place to sleep.  I refused her on all counts and then started off.

(I feel so pretentious - talking about my experience talking to homeless people.  It's not like that.  And my tone is so much more cynical than I feel.  (Probably telling.)  I was comfortable to a point - they could not have overpowered me; at most, I would have gotten a little wet.  But it was very awkward.  I knew that they wanted more from me than I was prepared to give.  We did not share anything real - except maybe for a few meaningful moments while Bob talked about his mother.  When they would both fall out laughing - about sharks again or something random - I didn't understand enough to find it funny and forced a laugh enough to be polite.  Dances with Wolves was far too gone to be truly comprehensible, though she did seem to have a lot to say.  And she seemed to harbor a volatility and anger - probably just bitterness - that made me uncomfortable.  Blah blah blah.)

But I still can't manage a one-armed pull-up.

I had four places to visit today:

The first was the best by far - best location (near Greenlake park, downtown Fremont, a bike trail), spacious, and it included a balcony and a washer and dryer.  It had been taken shortly before I arrived.  It was all downhill from there. 

The manager of the second place was an asshole - though he seemed the kind of asshole that would get things done while being an ass about it.  And the place... the apartment was about 6"x10" and looked awful.  He said he had just finished restoring the place.  I think he gave up midway.

The next place was close to downtown and was only $535/mo, but was right on a major highway, and after living on Woodbridge Rd. in Ipswich, I've had enough of all that.

The last place I was to look at is a bit farther away, in Ballard, which doesn't even compare to Fremont, but it is right across the street from a Taco-Bell / Pizza Hut and a Walgreens.  There was no one around to show me the place, so I have to wait until Tuesday.  (I'll probably call and cancel the appt and hope something comes up in Fremont.)

Apparently, there is a massive shortage of living space in Seattle right now.  The two places that had open houses going on were flooded with people.  I'll have to be competitive.

I really regret not getting that first place; it is now the standard of what I'm looking for in an apartment.

While I was out, I did manage to get a look at the Fremont Lenin: http://www.flickr.com/search/?q=lenin+fremont .  And!  I stopped into the George & Dragon pub, which was leaps and bounds more authentic than I expected - British accents flying around directed at various TV screens showing some soccer match or another, as well as pints of Stella and 1664 and plates of bangers and mash.

Then I stumbled across the center of the universe.  Shots:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/niallkennedy/21778989/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/mosaic22/67838976/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/missrogue/184735416/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/37481272@N00/240798003/

(They all seem to have missed the one that says, "Noogie:  Top of head.")

Fremont has soul.  And personality.  See: http://www.flickr.com/photos/missrogue/184734941/  I passed that one today and did a double take.

Oh, and Fremont has a drive-in movie venue.  If I would have known this last night, I could have finally seen Casino Royale.

That's all.  Enjoy life.

Okay.

First of all, pavement pounding for apartments is a dumb idea, especially if you're in Seattle where most apartments aren't in large complexes.  Moving on...

Wow.  I thought Queen Anne was cool, then I met Fremont - old hippie town with a statue of Lenin, a stone troll under the bridge, dozens of pubs and breweries (blaring The Shins), its own library (!), loads of parks, a hammered-dulcimer shop, and like 30 curry houses and Thai restaurants.  That is where I want to live.

I walked around town for about 8 hours today, to no avail, but after about an hour on Craigslist upon returning I found about 10 places that sound awesome.  Either studios in Fremont with exposed brick walls and hardwood floors, or Queen Anne complexes with views of Lake Union, rooftop terraces, free wi-fi, and a gym.  There are also places just around the corner from work for around $800/mo.  I may have missed out on some of them already (many showings today), but I'll definitely try to make all of the showings that I can tomorrow.

What else?  Right now, there are blackberry bushes overflowing onto the streets.  People just pick them right off and eat them.  Juicy.

I also ordered a bike.  Behold:

It's a sweet ride, but I do worry about its ability to make it around Seattle with only 7 gears - some of the hills here are crazy steep (and there are loads of hills).  It's on backorder and should arrive sometime around the beginning of September.  (REI was sold out of absolutely everything.)  Speaking of REI, the REI here is like a theme park, complete with mountain bike test track, waterfall, and a climbing wall.  It's positively massive.

That's all for now.

I posted that I was going to start writing.  That is true.  But.  I have decided not to post all my thoughts here.  Why?  Because whenever I relate my attempts to grasp the nature of the world around me, it sounds like I'm just whining about things not being how I might prefer.  Besides, let's just face it.  Public journals just aren't meant for soul searching crap.  You want to read about novel things I've thought about, maybe from time to time, but mostly just funny stories that make you feel close to me, or if we're not that close, cool shit you could have just as well found yourself.

Though I will be sacrificing the possibility that you might find something here that you can really relate to, I don't think it would have half the resonance as if we actually talked about it together, instead of you asynchronously taking in my pretense.

For the record, my journaling idol is doktorvox on LiveJournal.  He amazes me.

It's not quite as cool as the places I've been in Europe.  Galway really can't be beat.  But then again, Galway doesn't have big business like Seattle does.  Grenada, either.  I guess the only viable place where I could earn a living a live that I would like more than Seattle in Europe would be Paris.  I still haven't decided whether or not I like Seattle more than Chicago.  They're both damn cool.

The weather is perfect.  Sunny and around 65 - 70.  When they have a good day here, they really have a good day.

I walked around downtown Monday night after work, past the space needle and all that.  Found a bar called the Cyclops and got a pint of some red ale.  I had to look forever to find a bar... all I saw were Subways.

I passed a guy who was on his way to see Harry Potter in 3D at the IMAX.  Apparently, the effects are mind blowing.

I tried the chicken gumbo, and was pleasantly surprised that, though by no means gumbo, it was tasty.

Every morning, I can see the sunrise over Lake Union.  Every afternoon, I can watch the seaplanes take off and land and the yachts and old ships float around.

Today was my third day of exploring.  I missed the happy hour at McCormicks (and a cheeseburger would have been $7 more expensive), so I decided to look elsewhere and just walked North.  When I found nothing palatable, I decided to take the opportunity to check out Queen Anne Hill (where I will most likely be living).

Walking alongside the highway, I passed a sign about a protected green area.  A little farther down, I saw what looked like dirt steps into what could be a clearing.  I decided to hike up and see what I would find.  What I found was a lot of trash, a fire pit, a fallen tree, and a camoflage tarp hanging from some branches.  I got the impression that what I was seeing was where someone lives.  It was very reminiscent of the gypsy caves in Granada (see http://www.flickr.com/photos/almostpositive/545818163/).

Some guy got really pissed off because he thought I walked too closely to him.  ("What am I invisible?  You walked right in front of me!  Jesus Christ.  Watch where you're going, you goofball.")

Talked to one of the locals and found out about a music festival coming up in the Seattle Center (http://www.bumbershoot.org/lineup.htm).  I'll be there.  He also told me that though Queen Anne isn't as happening as U-town or Capitol Hill, it is one of the best places to live and is quite safe.

When I was walking home, the sun was setting and the sky was brilliant shades of orange, blue, purple, and pink.  I wanted to take a picture, but had left my camera at work.  I met a babe who was just visiting Seattle and had walked to the top of a hill for the view.

It feels really weird to be somewhere else to stay.  To know that it's not just a matter of time before I move home again.  It's for real this time.