smells like pierce county
i am pierce county, if not born, then most definitely bred.
(for a rundown of the dynamic between pierce county (read country hick) and seattle (read pretentious jet-setters), travel back in time to some of my earlier posts, where i delineated at length a sort of history of the area and the general attitude.)
scott wanted me to come in so he could get some good photos of the tattoo to date (i will post something here soon hopefully), so i hop 16 to downtown tacoma and pop in so he can get a couple for his portfolio. he tells me about a few of the tattoo conventions he has going on that i might be able to fly into and get work done in front of hundreds of people, and i reassure him that i will be back regular to get my tattoo worked on. (i think he is worried i will never come back. probably been alot of that. he clearly doesn't know that i hate leaving a project undone.) we shake hands, and i am back out on 6th, the air cool, the sky overcast.
on the return trip, i am going to donate a bunch of stuff to the goodwill, but since rocket records is right there, i decide to pop in.
the proprietor's dog greets me immediately through the door, and i say "hey." past the racks of t-shirts that say tacoma: 180,000 drunks can't be wrong! to see if he has any alkaline trio cd's. he doesn't, but i decide to see if he might give me some cash for any of cd's i would otherwise donate to the thrift store.
he says bring them in and he'd take a look. while he looks over the few cd's i have to get rid of, i ask if leuko has done any new albums since i was in here a couple years ago to buy their first that still blows my mind to this date. no such luck.
he is apologetic. there is only one thing i have that he wants, the rest he "has already" (shopspeak for not a safe bet), and he hasn't made any sales today (which i take to mean all week). i tell him not to worry. he asks what i want for the box set he is interested in, and i tell him whatever he wants to give, that i would otherwise donate it. he takes a crumpled fiver from his own pocket, and i wander the store a bit more.
i give him three of the five back for a copy of hunter s. thompson's hell's angels.
as i drive 6th past hell's kitchen, one of the favorite bars among the alternative scene in tacoma, where i once played pool on the warped tables while the local "talent" assaulted my ears and i thought that our band was better, to union back to 16, i contemplated life here, and how i would again be leaving it behind.
thirteen years ago, i joined the military and left it all for good.
then, four years ago, i found myself back here. i drummed up old friendships, revisited old haunts, and in general, settled back into life here in my old stomping grounds.
and i loved it.
but when i lived away, every time i would return, i would walk out on my mom's front lawn in the morning, and take a deep breath in. and i would smell it: fresh dew, mountain breeze, sun on freshly-fallen rain, clear streams, a hint of evergreen, the distant coast. a fresh, clean, homey smell that is as much a part of my being as my eyes and ears. and i would realize how much i missed that smell. how much i missed the pacific northwest.
i think i am ready to begin missing that smell again.
o my beloved, dear, and wonderful non-existant readers: it is likely this is the last post i will be able to get in before we are offline. we do not have a laptop, and i don't know when the next time i post will be. hopefully, i will get a chance to pop on to a computer once or twice in our travels. the posts will probably be short, if i can even get them in. once we are in florida, i will be able, at the very least, to get on the computer at the library and post from there. no doubt, i will have great tales of adventure, intrigue, love, lust, loss, pain, and leather seats with the ipod playing oh so beautifully, all stirred in with my usual aplomb and tongue-in-cheek wit when i get to sit in front of a computer again. and, just to remind you this is still the same old blog, i leave you with this:
no. 1: daddy, do wobots have butts or boogernoses?
darth sardonic
(for a rundown of the dynamic between pierce county (read country hick) and seattle (read pretentious jet-setters), travel back in time to some of my earlier posts, where i delineated at length a sort of history of the area and the general attitude.)
scott wanted me to come in so he could get some good photos of the tattoo to date (i will post something here soon hopefully), so i hop 16 to downtown tacoma and pop in so he can get a couple for his portfolio. he tells me about a few of the tattoo conventions he has going on that i might be able to fly into and get work done in front of hundreds of people, and i reassure him that i will be back regular to get my tattoo worked on. (i think he is worried i will never come back. probably been alot of that. he clearly doesn't know that i hate leaving a project undone.) we shake hands, and i am back out on 6th, the air cool, the sky overcast.
on the return trip, i am going to donate a bunch of stuff to the goodwill, but since rocket records is right there, i decide to pop in.
the proprietor's dog greets me immediately through the door, and i say "hey." past the racks of t-shirts that say tacoma: 180,000 drunks can't be wrong! to see if he has any alkaline trio cd's. he doesn't, but i decide to see if he might give me some cash for any of cd's i would otherwise donate to the thrift store.
he says bring them in and he'd take a look. while he looks over the few cd's i have to get rid of, i ask if leuko has done any new albums since i was in here a couple years ago to buy their first that still blows my mind to this date. no such luck.
he is apologetic. there is only one thing i have that he wants, the rest he "has already" (shopspeak for not a safe bet), and he hasn't made any sales today (which i take to mean all week). i tell him not to worry. he asks what i want for the box set he is interested in, and i tell him whatever he wants to give, that i would otherwise donate it. he takes a crumpled fiver from his own pocket, and i wander the store a bit more.
i give him three of the five back for a copy of hunter s. thompson's hell's angels.
as i drive 6th past hell's kitchen, one of the favorite bars among the alternative scene in tacoma, where i once played pool on the warped tables while the local "talent" assaulted my ears and i thought that our band was better, to union back to 16, i contemplated life here, and how i would again be leaving it behind.
thirteen years ago, i joined the military and left it all for good.
then, four years ago, i found myself back here. i drummed up old friendships, revisited old haunts, and in general, settled back into life here in my old stomping grounds.
and i loved it.
but when i lived away, every time i would return, i would walk out on my mom's front lawn in the morning, and take a deep breath in. and i would smell it: fresh dew, mountain breeze, sun on freshly-fallen rain, clear streams, a hint of evergreen, the distant coast. a fresh, clean, homey smell that is as much a part of my being as my eyes and ears. and i would realize how much i missed that smell. how much i missed the pacific northwest.
i think i am ready to begin missing that smell again.
o my beloved, dear, and wonderful non-existant readers: it is likely this is the last post i will be able to get in before we are offline. we do not have a laptop, and i don't know when the next time i post will be. hopefully, i will get a chance to pop on to a computer once or twice in our travels. the posts will probably be short, if i can even get them in. once we are in florida, i will be able, at the very least, to get on the computer at the library and post from there. no doubt, i will have great tales of adventure, intrigue, love, lust, loss, pain, and leather seats with the ipod playing oh so beautifully, all stirred in with my usual aplomb and tongue-in-cheek wit when i get to sit in front of a computer again. and, just to remind you this is still the same old blog, i leave you with this:
no. 1: daddy, do wobots have butts or boogernoses?
darth sardonic
Labels: florida, pierce county motherfucker, smells like teen spirit (or the pacific northwest)
posted by darth sardonic at 1:53 PM
10 Comments:
First of all, I will miss your posts.
Second, have a safe trip, may the moving be as painless as possible and hopefully you'll be back soon.
See ya on the other side! lol
ty so much krissie, and i will be back as quickly as possible
look forward to your return.
safe journey.
pxx
ty pixie
Enjoy your journey. We'll still be here when you return.
lol, ty z
Darthman: Have a good journey. We'll still be here when you're back online.
wuastc- ty, and i will be here when i get back online too, lol. i'm an idiot.
Happy trails, Darth.
ty queeny
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