Multo

Today/tonight I became better acquainted with the city I live in. I didn’t get as intimate as I had hoped, but I felt a little more in tune with the lights, the rhythms, and the waters of Seattle. I walked around some of the neighborhoods south of campus, the more touristy areas, and although I usually avoid these neighborhoods, I felt the urge to see the ‘famous’ structures of the city. I first went to Capitol Hill and picked up an Americano (they didn’t have drip coffee) from Faire gallery and cafe. They had a free comedy show later that night that I thought I would return to, but I ended up not making it. I walked down to the paramount and tried to buy some Magnetic Fields tickets (since I thought that’s where they were playing), but as a passerby mentioned as I got to the front of the line, the Magnetic Fields were playing at the Town Hall.

I continued on into downtown and walked through the Westlake Center area, I enjoyed the anonymity of the streets. The trees were decorated with Christmas lights and I actually felt festive. There was a six piece South American band performing in front of Nordstrom’s. I walked on down to Pike’s Place.

This was probably my favorite moment of the night. Walking through the market while it was shutting down flooded me full of memories, both real, imagined, and culled from various fictional narratives. I think the best time to visit ‘tourist’ areas are when they are either opening or closing. Pike’s Place was draped with warm multi-colored lights, ice chunks from the fish stands were melting in the streets, and the alleyways were filled with straggling tourists unsure of what to do. The staff closing up and counting up their receipts at the various shops and restaurants offered a mix of hipster baristas, older ‘ethnic’ immigrants, and working class whites. I felt like a tourist, but at least the inconspicuous kind.

I ducked into Left Bank Books. Finally. I had promised myself to come visit about four years ago and although I had been here for almost three months, I still hadn’t ‘found’ the time to stop by. I perused the cozy little store and found multiple books I wanted but couldn’t afford. I then scored on an abridged version of Das Kapital for three dollars and The Marx-Engels Reader for six dollars. Marx would certainly be proud of my capitalistic savviness. I was this close (index finger very close to thumb) to purchasing Walter Benjamin’s The Arcade Project for fourteen bones. I just really like the cover. And it’s such an imposing text. I promised to come back to Walter and exited Left Bank Books, sure to return by my next paycheck.

I continued on down through the various floors and ended up walking on the pier. The lights of seattle across the sound absolutely floored me. I didn’t know quite where I was and so I just kept walking toward the only landmark I recognized: the Spaceneedle. As I crossed through the various streets I stopped at all the sculptures I came across and every interesting poster. One particular ‘artpiece’ that jumped out was this telephone pole where someone had attached hundreds of various multi-colored squares if paper all across the bottom creating a dynamic grid-like pattern.

After some zigging then a few zagging I finally ended up at the Spaceneedle. I crossed the street thinking about using their restroom and possibly taking a trip up, but I decided to save the Spaceneedle ‘treat’ for another day. I turned back toward Capitol Hill and sauntered back toward Belltown. Belltown Wells Fargo claimed it was 33 degrees. I felt like a champion.

I really needed to use a restroom and found all the various hoity toity (which comes from a dialect of English “hoit” meaning “play the fool”) venues far too scary to approach. I was reminded by a story a good friend once told me about James Baldwin. Baldwin was walking through the white part of town and needed to desperately use the bathroom. Unfortunately because the bathrooms were for whites only, he couldn’t even perform the most natural of human acts on account of his race. Please don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m comparing myself to James Baldwin or the severity or grotesqueness of his situation, but it put things in perspective. Memories and histories always do.

After some jittery walking I ended up at Top Pot Doughnuts and using their restroom I caved in rather easily and ordered a small coffee and a pink frosted donut (I’m a sucker for pink). It was delicious. Deep fried, fresh, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. And so unhealthy. I gulped down my coffee and crossed the bridge to Capital Hill. I got lost and spent the next hour trying to find my way back to where I had parked. But that’s another story.