Sad News And/But I love Ballard

The sad news is this: my beautiful and loveable young cat Trinity was hit by a car and killed last week. Zak dug a big ass hole, and we put in a beautiful and edible garden (although Z says that because her body is decomposing down there we shouldn't eat them... anyone want to weigh in on this?) We spent the day crying and digging (I did almost no digging, for the record). Some dear friends (the ones who really cared about Trinity AND with whom we felt comfortable crying) came over and helped us put her in the ground. The garden is really lovely, and since trinity was THE most social and friendly cat in the universe, it has torches and benches so that we could all sit there together and drink beer and eat pizza after/while we cried our eyes out.

Also, I got some very sweet cards/letters from the Big Kids since I took the day off work. Some girls were obviously working together because they each drew a round little black cat with wings and a halo. (They obviously never met my tricky, shameless, cat, but that's ok.)

In other news, today was so lovely that I'd like to tell you how it went.
I woke up late, got a lot of coffee (a party last night left me a little delicate) and then went downtown to see Lawrence of Arabia in dazzling 70mm at the Cinerama which was tremendous, and lovely and a whole different movie because of all the immensity and vastness that is not possible on a television.
Next I had Corn Beef Hash at the Five Point. I took a nap and got up with some daylight left for a bike ride (this is the cool part). As I cruised around Ballard, I saw so many happy people. There were folks who were waiting in line at the Tractor to see some Gaelic band, and folks who were eating ice cream cones outside of Ben and Jerry's (The make Stephen-Colbert flavored icecream now!) I felt really contented and hopeful just then, all the way to my toe clips, when I heard a *really* loud and funky bassline. There was a teenage jam band (a very good one, actually) playing on the sidewalk, and a whole bunch of local homeless guys were rocking out, having the best time! I sat down behind them and took it all in.

I used to frequent the Chaihouse more, ah, frequently than I do now, because now my heart belongs to Nervous Nellies. The Chai house, however is so tenderly tie-dyed, so openly open-mic, so unabashedly idealistic and wierd that it holds a warm place in my heart. They've got this new woman there, Reverend Betty, who is all about "community". I read some of her missives, and felt pretty cynicallly that her idea of "community" was about folks buying into her big ideas. She had this idea of "Chaistock" where they'd have live music all week to raise money to get a better sound system. I'd read the posters, and rolled my eyes when I saw the pinnacle event, which was "improvisational collaborative mayhem"; my inner adolescent poet shuddered with shame.

There I sat,today, watching these really young, talented kids being treated like rock gods by some homeless guys, and some homeless guys being treated to their first front row seat in a long while I imagine. This dad and his little kid came by and sat with us, and the toddler could NOT be restrained from gently resting his little sticky hand on the snare. More and more folks showed up with coffee and sandwiches, and curry in stryrofoam and, with astonished looks on their faces sat upwind from the rabble nodding their heads to the beat. One dude with a bedroll under his arm, walked up to the chubby, dorky-looking guitarist and got really close, and then closed his eyes and started singing with his mouth wide open... no words just screamy melody that perfectly completed the music. He went along for a minute or so without a single error... this was exactly as advertised "improvisational collaborative mayhem" but REALLY. Dudes were dancing that wierd ass hippie dance, and looking like they were at a Rush concert. Men I walk by every day, who have never smiled at me, never met my eye grinned and nodded with me, let me in, shared this with me. After awhile the guitarist and bassist went in for a pop (I assume, although, really they were funky enough for a beer in my esteem...) and another pair came on up to join the drummer.
The corner/park where they had set up is at a 5 or 6 way intersection with a really long and thorough light, so folks in cars and on motorcycles got a listen too. There was this woman in her 60's perhaps in a blue sedan all alone, stopped at the light about 15 yards away from the band. She peered and squinted so intently at them, that I imagined for a moment that she might be jealous. I imagined her seeing these homeless guys all dancing and bellowing cheers on the sidewalk, these kids just tickled pink to be adored, the rest of us thrilled to be allowed a place in this meeting, and wanting.... something. I'm not sure exactly what it could be, or where she went when the light turned, but she was thinking some thoughts, I could tell that much.

I was too. I was thinking "I love you, Ballard!"

k

Overheard in Ballard

There's a website called Overheard in Pittsburg... http://www.overheardinpittsburgh.com/

It's pretty funny. I know of it, because my friend Chris occasionally reports shit his husband Jeff said, because homeboy is too funny to keep from the masses.

Anyway, I've been campaigning my fella, IT to the stars (TM), to start Overheard in Seattle, already, doggone it. My campaign consists of possible entries, like these two, from my late afternoon commute today.

Guy is waiting for bus. Bus arrives...stops... opens doors. Guy waits a beat and then his eyebrows shoot up in surprise! (Hey, look! A bus!) He boards jovially and sits down. We head over the Ballard bridge.

"Hey. Up there, are you gonna go left, or keep going straight?"
(Quiet Bus driver voice.) "Going straight"
"What?"
"Going straight."
"What?"
"Going Straight."
"Oh. Good. That'll give me awhile, cause I forgot where I'm goin'"

Guy laughs so hard, I can smell the Nightrain from two rows BEHIND him.

wait... for... it...

"Oh! That's right. The strip club!"


LATER (walking down the street, two fourteen year old girls and a balding guy)

girl 1: didn't you want to be a marine biologist?
Girl 2: Yeah, but they can go out if they want. They can have a tan.
Girl 1: Daddy, there's this surfer girl who's like 13, and she got her arm bit off. Now she's got her own lotion company.

That's what I got for you folks...