View of downtown from the Seattle Space Needle through my new glasses, May 2010.
Tag: seattle
More than a couch, less than a rocket ship.
I pulled back. Wait. With one hand on his chest, I reached down with the other and plucked our favourite caramel from the small, expensive box on the bed. Here, so we’ll always know what our first kiss tastes like. I put it between my teeth and held it there in my mouth, then leaned forward to his, and broke the dark chocolate into gooey citrus caramel just as our lips began to meet.
The last few days have felt like a wonderful vacation from the various crushing worries that have been become the fabric of my recent life. Instead of worrying about rent or groceries or perpetually postponed photo sessions, I’ve been floating, spending time in Seattle with Tony, celebrating our one year anniversary with whatever pops into our heads. I arrived to find chocolates on the bed from Chocopolis, the place on Capitol Hill where the flavour of our unbelievably delicious first kiss came from. They no longer sell that particular sweet, but Tony bought approximations, and we fed them to each other like little bullets of joyful reminder, coated in smooth, delicious happiness.
He also presented me with a copy of Taxidermia, so Friday night we stayed in, made supper, and let wonder unfold on the screen. Neither one of us had seen it before, but I’ve been quietly lusting after it for years, since seeing this clip when it was first posted. I warn you now, it’s one of the most beautiful films I’ve ever seen, but it’s relentless. I’ve been trying to think of a way to recommend it to people for days now, except I want to do so safely, so no one ends up traumatized. Describing it would ruin it. Telling everyone to see it would be a mistake. I mean, it’s heart-stoppingly gorgeous, but there is a man with a flame thrower penis within the first ten minutes. It needs one of those old thriller movie posters that didn’t bother with anything but NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART!! in 89 point bright red type. Nothing else would be appropriate. I will say this, though, if you’re a squeamish sort of body, either watch it with someone who will tell you when to look or simply avoid it altogether, excluding the scene I’ve already posted.
Since then, we’ve wandered downtown, had dinner at the Space Needle, saw lightning, practiced our massage skills with ebony current cream, enjoyed at least one sleep-in of epic proportions, played peek-a-boo with a baby giraffe at the Seattle Zoo, fed popcorn to squirrels, been rained on with some red pandas, were pleasantly defeated by steaks at Morton’s, and fallen asleep in front of Sonny Chiba movies and seriously vintage cartoons. Our love is awesome.
ps. I also got him a present, but it’s not here yet, so mum’s the word until it arrives. Shh.
tulle, fire-spinning, and poetry
Apartment To-Do List
Heading down to Seattle again this weekend, this time to catch my friend’s 14-piece rock circus band, The Mutaytor, as they take the stage at Neumos on Sunday. They’re actually playing Whistler’s snowboarding festival tomorrow night, but trying to trek after them is a task out of my league. Better to just stay put and let them come to me!
Also upcoming, the Vancouver Poetry Slam Finals on Monday. Even if you’re like me and mostly skip every single other slam for the entire year, (poetry slam drama bingo anyone?), this is the Big Show, the one not to miss, where the best of the best of this year’s contentants duke it out literary style to make it onto the next Van Slam Poetry Team and onward to the International Finals!
going on the wall above my bed
Tony and I scored some awfully sweet treats at the Emerald City ComicCon on Sunday, (especially at the TopatoCo booth, where Tony picked up both Wondermark books, a Futurism poster, “Building a fake future in the hopes that the real future will show up to mate with it”, the Dresdon Kodak Biscuit Science shirt, Questionable Content’s glow-in-the-dark cat-with-a-rocket-pack Science is a Verb Now shirt, and Kate Beaton’s new book, Never Learn Anything From History), but one of my absolute favourites has to be a print of Powder, by Ben Walker:
Ben insists they are locked in mortal combat, (“Look at the blood and claws! You don’t know who will win.”), but we prefer our interpretation, that the moose and mighty jackalope are merely rough-housing, thundering together in epic no-holds-barred two ton tickle-fight. See that open mouth? The jackalope is laughing, its chittering squeals of merriment and mirth loud enough to shatter glass.
a place that feels like home
now to figure out how to permanently move to seattle
september, seattle, fire spinning at gasworks park
One of the most amazing things about this trip, past the fact that it’s happening at all, is that Tony and I are going to get to spend an entire two weeks together, the longest period of time in each other’s company we’ll have had since we met in 2002. Once he gets off today’s bus, we’ll be inseperable until November 29th.
There are no better scoundrels.
“A city can’t be too small. Size guarantees anonymity—if you make an embarrassing mistake in a large city, and it’s not on the cover of the Post, you can probably try again. The generous attitude towards failure that big cities afford is invaluable—it’s how things get created. In a small town everyone knows about your failures, so you are more careful about what you might attempt.” – David Byrne
What surprised me most about the Tiger Lillies show is how gorgeous it was. I was expecting raucous suicide songs, but instead found their show delightful fun, but also rather haunting, as if they were playing the full weight of their twenty years together with every note. The Moore Theater is awfully pretty, which helped, but it really was something in their timbre, a sweetness that ached, sugar in a tooth during the best french kiss you’ll ever remember on the birthday you decide you finally feel old. It was blood shivering. Their best trick was to have the audience laugh to the worst, most terrible things, then to mock the laughter with more of the same. I’ve never heard such dark subject matter vivisected with so much whimsical mirth. It shone a light upon the heart, even as they sang like a house on fire, all bizarre theatrics and kicking kittens down stairs, with voices like elegant flashing sirens.
The after party wasn’t half bad either, a mad robot-themed dance review at the Can Can underground cabaret bar, (delicious food, crazy entertainment), involving two astonishingly limber girls and some not too terrible young men gyrating two feet in front of our front row table, then a set by The Bad Things, a band I crashed with once in a Bellingham squat with the Dandelion Junk Queens. (Because the world really can be that small sometimes). Most memorable, after Rainbow, the intense spinning-from-a-chandelier awe inspiring blond girl who looked uncannily like Sara, was the bachelorette unicorn lap-dance. Sounds unlikely, I know, but it was quite the experience. He whinnied, he pawed, he wore embarrassing sunglasses that matched his skintight bodysuit. It was beyond pretty great. It was, in fact, fantastic.
The next day, Saturday, was Seacompression, a Seattle burner party held in a repurposed military hanger. Burner parties are much the same wherever you go, a fun fur collision of invention, wacky art, fire sculpture, dance, music, costumes, and people hanging from the ceiling, sometimes with no clothes on. It was a good time, with good people. We drove over with Robin and Rafael, to find Frank and Claire were there, and Adam and Anna, as well as Craig, Richard, Jordan, and Stephanie, though with the crowd, it was rare to run into people more than twice. Most of everyone we found wandering around, except for Jordan, who was hanging out in the white geodesic dome full of pillows, watching as people were locked into a spinning globe machine by crystal tipped metal arms.
To give you an idea of what it was like, around front was a hacked bus with a fire sculpture on the roof, a hot-rod with a BBQ instead of a trunk, the giant flaming metal hand Tobasco and his crew made, and a pumpkin death pachinko machine. Inside, to the right of the entrance, was a photo booth and a small movie theater (complete with Marquee), and the white chill-out dome. To the left, some couches, the Wheel Of Judgment, a hammock garden, and the hall that led to the main dancefloor, a large room with a raised area in the middle made of cages. Past those, in the main space, were two bouncy ropes hanging from the ceiling, various girls dangling from the ends, tied in by experts, and a performance space behind another bus, where fire dancers were spinning fire and live music played. Mostly we wandered, content to mingle in the madness, though we danced to the EQLateral String Trio and submit ourselves to the Wheel of Judgment. (Tony got a ticket for being “too fury”. We think they meant “too furry”.) We didn’t stay to the end, exhaustion and a desire to be curled up naked won over, but it was a lovely party.
To top it off, we bought a strand of electric pussy-willows yesterday. Plugged in, they look like the future colliding with magic.
There are no easy words for how blessed I feel to have such lovely adventures in my life. Also, I had the Tiger Lillies sign my decolletage. Pictures soon.
This Weekend’s Excellent Events
Vancouver:
Friday
Saturday
Monday
Seattle:
Friday
Saturday
“Off the coast and I’m headed nowhere”
I’m so excited I’m practically vibrating.
The Tiger Lillies are playing at the Moore this Friday. Tony and I are going. It’s their twentieth anniversary tour, it’s going to be amazing.