Hear/Say

Yesterday, I visited Seattle’s 2010 HEMP-FEST. It’s the best people-watching you get outside of folk-life; even so, the folks are much more extreme.

Walking down Elliott, the daunting line into Olympic Sculpture Park stretched for blocks and was thick six people wide. The Chan bros. and me decided to skip the line and walk to the northern entrance, across the train-tracks next to the silos.

Elliott was lined with little camper vans, havens blacked- out by makeshift curtains clenched in the window cracks and historic buildup of stickers. Dogs everywhere; pit bulls, puppies, bulldogs, dirty-mouthed children with elephant ears squeezed between their fat fingers and tender gums, their face powdered with jam and sugar. There was a boat docked under the silo arm that reached above the sea; not a boat, a ship– and it echoed whatever reggae music bumped at the stage decorated with a huge sculpture of a blunt (someone went “Dude, I swear that boat is playing music”). Tye-dye shirts, being worn, being sold (“I live off tye dye, man”), celebrated with leis of pot leaves twisted into bushel-like bracelets or waving lazily around slightly sweaty necks.

The sidewalk constantly thick with people and movement, of turning heads and the pulsing rhythm of festival life– but the atmosphere is relaxed; people don’t mind the bustle as much; most people are looking for semi-covert areas to smoke the pack of joints they rolled on the way over, looking for their hook-ups, their friends who promised them a good time; perhaps make some new friends in order to have a good time.

There are some who have too much of a good time; we passed a boy that looked sheet-white and stood stock still as both his friends grabbed him and murmured calmly while their fingers pressed savagely into the back of his arm; ten minutes later we were down the park but heard sirens…

Funnily enough, internal conflict was found in young pot smokers against 1) the younger pot smokers (“Those girls are like, 15!!!!”) and 2) families; particularly the women-and-her-child (boys: “yeah, I wouldn’t bring my family here”). I saw a young boy– definitely younger than 15– cheekishly wriggle up and ask “hey, can I bum a cigarette?”

The Chan bros. met up with their greater group of dude-friends, one of which was celebrating his birthday. They all chipped in to buy a spectacular bong for him– olive green with the clear bowels of the bong displaying ten tubes, what they called “splash shields”; people stopped him on the street and asked to see him “rip it”. The magnificence had a gold label near the lip, a giant RX designed into RelaX… while the wet grey blanket named Scott whimpered in the corner, because the social mingling with the trophy of a bong made him increasingly late to pick his parents up at the airport. And he was their ride in.

Read here for more information on 1068, legalizing medical marijuana in Washington state.

Graceee

Trimble Gilbert is a chief of the Caribou People. Learning @ the zoo.

Yesterday, I had a fantastic adventure at the zoo. Usually, I go at least a couple times a year– some feel this is sadomasochistic, and I usually end up sad for animals locked up in their artificial habitat– but it’s there, and I love to look at animals.

In some cases, like snakes, I rather enjoy the privilege of a glass pane between our interaction, but of course if we were inter-special friends I would probably sympathize a lot more.

But I digress; the zoo was fantastic. Little child-monsters running everywhere. One called me a pretty lady, and I was much more flattered, because he was not a gross slimy grown-up male in a bar or the side of the street looking to get some desperate female attention (…yet?). Seeing matching field-trip shirts (brite neon green), the buddy system in action (holding tiny hands), and eavesdropping on the random-est of conversations (“Mommy, when do you pay rent?)”, it was as much as a people-watching day as it was for observing wild creatures dumbed down with heat and the lack of wilderness survival skills. So! great aspects of the zoo-venture witnessed:

A silver-back gorilla transferring fecal matter from the butt to the mouth;

A pooping brown bear;

A peregrine falcon ripping apart pieces of quail;

A braying donkey;

The reticulated python cage was cleaned, and the caretaker crooning to this giant anaconda of a snake while she scrubbed his pool;

And the best: A child who got her head stuck posing in those painted boards with face-holes. She was a snow leopard. Her parents were pissed, and yelling at her to stop screaming as they tried stuffing her head and ears to the other side. It was perfect.

We also chatted with some zoo employees about giving us free taste tests of the most expensive of frozen treats: DIP ‘N DOTS, but it Was Not Happening.

Too bad.

I also went canoeing recently, and spotted several duck lounges where group preening took place, and a big crane lurking a few feet away from our canoe watched us come and go. Seattle is so sweet. I might be celebrating Portland this weekend, too.

GO PACIFIC NORTH WEST

Graceee

I just purrrrrchased my capNgown for 2010 maaaang

…and so I’m sitting here, poised in half-darkness, licking my strawberry-stained lips, impatiently clicking through the ritualistic tradition (honestly, I’d love to just rent one), and although this synthetic fabric will have an only one-time honor of brushing against my college-graduate-skin, there is something emotionally nostalgic of the entire thee-ay-ter (as Tobias Fuenke might add). And how much more emotionally powerful the anchors of tradition are within this posing in over-sized robes and nice receptions. A strangely out-of-place celebration compared to the actual experience– like romanticized shots of espresso and guilty procrastination. No, it’s been wonderful.It has. Unrealz.

On a different topic– I reunited with some friends today, and we killed time n a most wonderful way. Went to watch a Seattle International Film Festival (SIFF) feature “Cyrus”, starring John C. Reilly, Jonah Hill, Marisa Tomei, and Catherine Keener. I don’t think I’ve been to a SIFF feature before, but the movies are really cool; too bad there isn’t someone else to foot the ticket bill. To purchase tickets, you have to register and “shop” through the SIFF calendar schedule, but they do have some sweet selections.

Cyrus, for example, channels Awkward through oedipal themes and Marisa Tomei’s love life as a single mother. John C. Reilly falls for her. Her son, Jonah Hill, resents  this and sparks a war: the potential step-child/father or mother battle behind the clueless parent’s back. The cinematography was spot-on in terms of framing awkward reaction-faces, to the point where you’re studying the dead-pan tension in their pores. The darkness of the comedy thrived in the painful vulnerability of their raw, voyeuristic-shyness or past and present failures in life. As well as John C. Reilly’s lost, tender-hearted appearance.

Check out the films! I might be struggling with the world of plays, but I love the movies.

and

Springtime is filled with apprehension and gasping realizations! Hopefully the weather will walk it out and be kinder to our poor pollen-addled brains.

Graceee

Spring in Seattle. I’ve been so busy that I get extremely, unhealthily lazy and depressed if I don’t move.

Which explains the 6 hour marathon of Mad Men in bed this morning. Having the option to simply not move was so luxurious I lounged the day way. And then I’d get lazier, and less favorable to actually moving from my bed. Vicious cycle. SO: lazy days brings lazy posts.

The book-in-the-upstairs-restroom

CakeInABox

My friend's party notes

Awesome Shoes Great Job

At the house of a man with 11 children: Battle Grounds, WA

Fave dessert: MangoStickyRIce

Mantis

Baby pterodactyls

Sweet Suzuku motorcycle outside my house

My Lactaid fix

Take it Eee eee zeee

Good night and Good Luck!

Graceee

Woke up early to start the day scrolling through Craigslist — some people have no idea how to advertise — pictures and addresses would be nice (looking for apts and rooms)… what a hassle. So if anyone knows of a cheap deal for one last quarter…
breakky today was extremely inspiring: eggs over easy, and gouda apple bagel toast…mmm.
g

Has gone. I was sitting out in the balcony, when a storm of flying rats began ha-rass-ing each other in the airspace above my head. Unforgivable.

So I’m in Roma, still. The land of muscular jaws, Armani-Exchange stubble, and proud tans. Of surprisingly short men, who are all talk…but really, this city isn’t all about the male specimen. I’m not obsessing. Or complaining…I might be complaining, I miss Seattle boys. They might not smell as nice, but I’ve never complained about that…

TWO WEEKS ’til I come back! I know I shouldn’t already be reminiscing about Seattle, or Roma, and I should just rejoice in the moment (arms of joy! flail those arms of joy!) but what’s life without the spice of angst? It’s nothing; no, it’s an episode of Friends. It’s fettuccine from Maggiano’s– bland butter in a swamp of noodles.Yeeeck.

So here’s to the cusp of spring; of the beautiful happy, the gorgeous sad, the silent contentedness of cool evenings. I can’t wait to see you, Sir Tomorrow. Because you’ll probably have a nice coni of gelato waiting for me…

If I don’t puke from my own cheesiness.

Gracious

is the Campo Di Fiori.

We live in a tourist trap.

I’m not complaining, per se– it’s a beautiful part of the city. We are so lucky to live near the Tiber; I walk across it every day and it’s always breathtaking. In a different way than Seattle; Seattle is strangely sobering as you walk through rivers of rain water and gutters (ok, maybe not so strangely sobering), but the Tiber, wet or dry, has a way of haunting you with thousands of histories…

I have found a cute boy named Francesco who works at an overpriced restaurant down in the campo. We will be married within the week, and he will spoon feed me gelato with lactaid in the mornings. Our ten children will be jumping joyously around us before self-administrating time-outs to write delicate haikus about our undying love. Ok, so I’ve only talked to him once. He’s a cutie.

but seriously, although Rome has its share of arrogant, self-righteous and narrow-minded men, the cliche romance of the city never ceases to haunt you. The histories are violent, sensual, gory; you can’t stop thinking about history when the cobblestones stubbing and wrestling with your toes are a constant reminder, when the fountains and saintly statues loom, gorgeous and mystical, where things are truly carved in a stone for all to remember… there are shocks of culture where you don’t expect it. The tiniest things expand to engulf your understanding of the norms, and it feels like nothing is the same… standing in line awkwardly juggling your valuables and dropping your dignity as the coins seriously don’t make sense or easily add up… you can feel the flush of ignorance seep into the confidence you used to have, and the comfort of your own country’s culture…

I’m so lucky to have had this opportunity; with the people I am with, in the place that I am. And it’s also made me more aware of what I miss about American and dear Seattle. Spongebob being one of them.

I should post more pictures. And I’m sorry I don’t update as often as I should. But my apartment doesn’t have internet, and it’s actually quite liberating… !

To my dear loved ones, who know who they are– I miss you!
And the following post is for class.

Gracious

I’m totally going to Rome in like, 9 hours.

Filthy sik.

I will try very hard not to look like this

To my dear family and roommates: do not fear, for I have tattooed my face into the insides of your eyelids. You will never forget the asymmetry of my face.

To my dear friends and/or co-workers: I will return 100 fold stronger and greater than ever before; but also 100 times as merciful. Be excited. Be wary. But be excited.

To my facebook friends: I will be deleting some of you soon. 2010 calls for a purge.

To Elliott Smith, Michael Cera, endearingly awkward darlings, and Seattle:  I love you–! Marry me!

Love,

Gracious

PS: keep u posted

For one of my communication courses: we had to film a 5 shot sequence, each shot lasting 10 seconds. The film had to tell a short story. Mine– what it’s like to be the troll under the bridge.

TROLL AVE.

When I was thinking of people to profile in our video assignment, no one specifically appealed to me: I was thinking about service/hospitality jobs (i.e. barista, waitress, bartender), because of how the shots would require a natural action that illustrated an action-centered story line (because of our 5 shot, no-edit constraint) and also because that felt like the general idea in our class.

I started thinking about unusual things I could make a story out of, instead of following that common thread of convenience. I decided on the Fremont Troll because of how artistically iconic it is for Seattle, not to mention Fremont’s own eclectic identity. I was actually surprised at the coherence of the story line created.

I didn’t realize how many people passed the troll every day, and started realizing how the Troll might be personified—patient; a rock of creative expression that has become the watchdog under the bridge, rather than a mythically menacing troll. Busses full of tourists were constantly pulling up to the troll, pausing, and driving away; cars full of families stopped by to take pictures. People were posing with the Troll in different ways—climbing him, walking around him, sticking their heads under his nose, etc. Perhaps it’s a little presumptuous stretch to say this rock sculpture displayed a magnanimously patient aura as it became a spectacle—maybe I’m giving inanimate objects too much credit. But the history of the Troll resurfaces and implicates itself in the admiration of its many visitors.

I do think this has to do with Identity; especially being an iconic Seattle piece of art (… it was in 10 things I Hate About You), it seems like Seattleites are of course aware that the Troll is there, but doesn’t receive any overt “public relations” or community appreciation. Perhaps if people realized how personable and endearing the Troll has become through its historical presence, they’d take better care of it in order to preserve him (as well as keep the area safe).

Troll Ave. N from grace yang on Vimeo.

I fully surrender myself to obsession with Simon and Garfunkel. Yes, everyone likes them. Well: I *LOVE* them.

….So, I don’t get out much. I get it, I’m what they call a loser. I have a 9-5 type of job, and other than class and homework, my extracurricular activities tend to be classified as introverted (i.e. blogging… ). But guys: I have an event to promote. This is big. This means I’m getting out of the apartment/office/bed. We should celebrate together. Rejoice. It might be freakish to see me out of my natural setting. Sort of like, I don’t know, Michael Moore shaking hands with Bush. Maybe not as interesting as that.

Sunset Tavern, 11/22

MOSTLY DIMES will be playing with WILDCAT CHOIR and SCRIPTURES at the Sunset Tavern over in Ballard– the other B-town– on November 22nd. I generally don’t like introducing/reviewing bands (Oh, I wouldn’t want to *impose* my opinions on others, which is totally a lie because I have a blog. Eh, internal conflict ensues) and I might be slightly biased because my friend’s in it, but c’mon. I’m not that much of a fake. I do like them, my elitist music friend/roommate likes them (see tarazak.blogspot.com), so I’m pretty sure they’re an awesome band. Roots in folksy tunes, and melodic harmonies. Check their album “Double Nickels” out at their website, http://www.mostlydimes.com. They’ve made it available to the general public and the general public’s moms.

The other bands can be found at their respective Myspace Music sites:

Wildcat Choir and Scriptures

Hope to see y’all there!!!

Graceee