Sunday, August 28, 2011

A Letter to a Friend in McMinnville: My Fifth Day In Seattle


1/1/2004: I went out on the town last night. There are so many clubs around my new residence. Kirk played tour guide. "Now on the right is the house of debauchery (R-Place). Here are the three floors of increasing levels of mortal sin." When we strolled by the door the bouncers were giving a woman a spanking. I think it was her twenty-first birthday. It was fun to look in on these places. I felt like a window shopper. Kirk took me to a straight bar called Linda's. I had a pint of beer called, "Mack-n-Jack's." It had a smooth taste. It's texture poured down my throat like liquid children eying candy.

Now there's a tittle for a painting: Liquid Children. It may even make an interesting art card. Liquid Children. Can you imagine it? Abstract art like in the movie Fredida!"

I guess I'm feeling a little lonely today. Kirk took me to his banker friend Michelle's in Lynnwood. I think I mentioned her in the last letter. Where on Sunday, December 28, we helped her and her boyfriend move from Fremont to her new house in Lynnwood (which is approximately 10 miles north of where I am living on 15th & Spring.

Michelle bought a house that had been damaged by a few years of dogs pissing inside. It soaked through the carpet and into the floorboards and walls. She got it at a huge discount. The owner died from a diabetic episode when he was 31 years old. That's younger than I am now. It was a while before he was found. His dogs nibbled away at him in hunger.

I felt a little out of place with them. They were engrossed in a conversation about home improvements and building projects. I've always felt out of my element when people discuss ordinary things. Subjects such as these have an air of emptiness to them. I guess I am just too much of an oddball to fit in.

Saturday, 1/3/2004, 7:08 PM: I am having coffee in a cool shop a 1/2 block down Pike Street from Broadway Avenue (Cafe Vita). They play interesting music up here. {The place has an upstairs. I wonder what's up here?} It's funny, I don't miss McMinnville at all. Seattle is vibrant and pulses with a life force that doesn't exist in McMinnville or in any place in Oregon that I've ever lived. There are so many youthful people here. I think I am going to go coffee shop hoping on my walk home. Lets see, home is five blocks up and three blocks over to the right. I stayed up all evening last night playing video games while listening to books on tape. Thus far, I haven't found a coffee shop that has the same community that existed at the Cornerstone. People don't seem to hang out much here. At least not in coffee shops. It's not the coffee that makes the shop. It's the people. I guess that was what was special about the Cornerstone.

This evening, I went to the 5:30 Mass at the Cathedral. The pipe organ was enchanting. On the entrance and exit hymns, they didn't play traditional arrangements, rather (just like everything else in this city) it was brimming with creativity. However, every hymn in between was more traditional. It was so much easier to sing to the organ than to guitar and other instruments. It was such a blessing to be able to have so much noise on the bottom end. It was much easier to tune my voice to it. If they use organ every Mass, the Cathedral will become my home parish. However, I plan to visit two other parishes within walking distance of my new home before making a final decision.

It is so cold today. I am not looking forward to the walk home. If I include the wind chill factor, it must range between 28 - 32 degrees out perhaps even colder. Thus far we had twenty hours of snow fall over two adjacent days. Tuesday evening it snowed as well as last night too. My pen just died, but the nice coffee servers loaned me one of theirs.

I understand that your dad doesn't trust your driving in the snow. Has he been driving you back and forth to work? My parents never drove me to work or any place when it snowed. I did that for myself even as early as sixteen. You know, your parents are never going to let you go. I wonder if my parents were the same when I was in my twenties? I can understand. I hung onto my parents for support for a long time too. I am just going to check upstairs and then see if I can locate a new pen.

No comments:

Post a Comment