When I woke this early this morning--at ten--and I rolled my head over to look down my bed and out the window, I saw the grey smog-covered sky and knew it was a good day for a walk. So I rose, dressed, prepared myself for the day, and stepped out on one of my traditional constitutionals.
It feels good to get the city under my feet. I love cities, their heat, their stench, their trash--living and not quite--the sounds of yelling obscenities at neighbors and threatening them with physical violence, ahhhh, that's what I love the most. Millions of people enclosed in a small place, magnifying all their fears, hatreds, neuroses; nothing quite like it.
This city isn't like LA, doesn't have the same feel, can't expect the same things. It has a completely different personality really, I guess all cities do, but I'm learning to appreciate its flavor. Seattle doesn't have as much style as LA; its specialty is subterfuge. That's not really my prefered mode of operation, but it gives me a job.
So, this morning--at noon--when I stepped out of my building, I was faced with a decision, a decision that would determine the course of the rest of my day--- which way to start walking? So I went for something new, I headed straight for the hoity-toity district.
It's amazing the number of faces this city has, it seems to change completely every few blocks. The play of children concieved of Joyboys, is replaced by men and women in suits, a few feet away. Around the corner, ex-stockbrokers push drugs to school teachers before returning to their fashionable homes, a street over. At least LA was fickle in a predictable pattern; Seattle's soul is schizophrenic. This city can't do anything predictably except guard secrets.
Drek. I'm bored already. That's it. That's all you're getting from me. |
