June 1st – Pike Place – Happy to be back to the place that I now call home. Sunshine and salad niçoise. Brine and seafood. Lillet Blanc. I’ve got a good life.
June 2nd – Pioneer Square – I don’t know if it is the same for all cities, but one can’t walk a few blocks in most of Seattle without witnessing very open and nonchalant drug deals. Frink wants to know what the men are holding, pulling him away, we notice a strange smell of burning plastic coming from one of the lofts lining the street. Walk briskly, frug, walk briskly.
June 3rd – Downtown – Carrying a mug of steaming black coffee and a bag of hardback books, I find myself having an awkward social interaction with the same bank teller I see every month when I pay my rent. I swear she has a pre-recorded chip in the back of her neck that makes her say the same things, in the same manner for every social interaction. She’s so creepy that she always leaves me in goosebumps.
June 4th – Central District – Damp dirt smells like spring but it’s June. Aromas of Thai food follow me down the hill. I realize, after a mile or so of walking that my pants have been unzipped and that my underpants are on inside out. This is my life.
June 5th – Downtown – Smells of trash from city waste bins. Streets abnormally crammed with cruise-loving tourists and the usual crazies. I fight my way through them to open a business bank account like a grown-up.
June 6th – Pike Place – Every trustafarian is out today playing their banjos and dancing jigs in overalls they paid too much for. Savory chicken empanadas. Fizzy Diet Coke tickles my throat.
June 7th – West Seattle – Olive oil, basil, acidic ripe tomatoes…I stuff my mouth with these to avoid maladroit conversations with forlorn spirits.
June 8th – Kent – Prayer rugs in parking lots. Women and girls adorned in colorful West African fabrics. An abundance of bulk foods makes me feel like a dried legume trafficker. Sweet bouquet of dried fruits in the car as we wend home.
June 9th – Beacon Hill – Sizzling of onions, peppers and strips of beef. I love taco bus. Everyone loves taco bus. Sing a hymn for taco bus.
June 10th – Pioneer Square – Aggravating day but I got over some major hurdles. End up sniffing amazing scented creations in an old basement. I think creativity is contagious here. The best virus to catch.
June 11th – Downtown – Cool air, strong winds. It smells more like autumn outside than June. Arthritic pain leaves me querulous.
June 12th – Downtown – So far, it’s been a productive week. So productive, that I forgot to leave the condo. That’s OK, it smells like corn chip frugs and roses.
June 13th – Downtown – One lone late-blooming narcissus stands out beside a group of shrubs that have a vagabond’s damp laundry draped over them. The trickling of a water in a minimalist fountain. Heterogeneous living. Inside my small space smells like fiery harissa.
June 14th – Belltown – Crowded streets filled with slow-walking tourists that don’t’ know street etiquette block my way. Running 5 minutes later than I had expected, I get stopped at every single crosswalk downtown. At one of those, a man who appears to be without a home tugs on my silly asymmetrical shawl. He says, “Do you want to buy this?” and pulls a 3/4 used Chanel Coromandel tester out of his tattered coat pocket. I do but I’m conflicted. I tell him that I’m not interested as I’ve been off that stuff for a year now.
June 15th – Kent – Awkwardly we have to share a table with another young couple who I think don’t really know each other that well, chilis burn my eyes. Sneezes and dry coughs. Jasmine tea. Delicious aroma of cumin and Szechuan pepper. The young man of the couple puts his head down and starts to cry. I don’t think he liked his food.
June 16th – Pike Place – Strangely quiet for a Sunday in June; however, tourists still gawk like they’ve never seen fruits on display before. First round of cherries hit the cobblestone streets. I walk home with a couple pounds of them and a bouquet of heavenly scented cream colored peonies.
June 17th – Downtown – Boys in Bauhaus t-shirts will like your box bob. Today was proof of that. After running some errands, I find myself sniffing some new launches at the department stores. Most things smell like sweets. Nothing caught my attention except for a tube of orange lipstick which I did not buy because nobody would assist me. I put it back…in the wrong spot. Rebellion.
June 18th – Downtown – Chihuahuas attack scientologists. A few blocks down the way, a man tries to sell me some musky, dank smelling spikenard anointing oils but only if I give up shrimp. I’m not giving up shrimp.
June 19th – Pioneer Square – A man who has to be in his 90’s tells me that he “thinks” that he likes my hair as it is very colorful. Everything smells mineral. My nose is not bleeding.
June 20th – Fremont – Smells like pork. Reprehensible.
June 21st – Downtown – Even an exquisitely restored theatre still has that delicious dusty “old theater smell”. Women dress up wearing Estee Lauder Cinnabar, a perfect choice for such a beautiful venue but probably not the best for Hairspray The Musical with Jinkx Monsoon. I wear Molinard Habanita to be historically accurate. I wish I were wearing Cinnabar.
June 22nd – Belltown – Typical “city” smells. I repressed the urge to knock over feet-shuffling tourist wolf pack taking up the entire sidewalk. I reward myself with small plates and apértifs…but I wanted cheesecake.
June 23rd – Pioneer Square – Doused in an abundance of orange blossom perfume, I consume too much deli meats. Deli smells and celery soda in my cheap light beer.
June 24th – Downtown – I’ve been on a cooking hiatus but all of the in-season produce has brought me back. I whip up Bing cherry truffles, garlic Lacinato kale salad and goat cheese and beet green crustini. I got my groove back, ya’ll.
June 25th – Downtown – Summer rain, borderline thunderstorm. Rustling leaves and rain on pavement.
June 26th – Downtown – Impromptu marriage equality celebration out of the window bringing the sounds of Judy Garland which makes Frink wag his little curly tail. A warm evening with the window open only means that you’re allowing the Mary J from the streets to enter your house. And I’m not talking about Ms. Blige.
June 27th – Downtown – Delicious Vietnamese herbs and hot peppers on a day that should have humored me with more beauty.
June 28th – Capitol Hill – Seattle university is the best smelling university. It smells like honeyed florals, heliotrope and cedar chips. I also found out that my nihilism doesn’t bother David when he has guacamole and mezcal.
June 29th – Capitol Hill – Dyke March smells like moth balls and thrift store but everyone appears to be wearing washed, non-vintage clothing. Confuse the patriarchy with stale clothing smell.
June 30th – My Big Gay Seattle – How does one sum this perfect day up? Parade. Sweat because you left your goth parasol at home. Seattle Center is outlandish! Hi-Fashion. Sweat because you forgot your goth parasol AND sunglasses at home. Lady Bunny. Bucket of light beer. The smell of leather daddies covered in greasy orange blossom Bain de Soleil. I like that daddy’s little hat. Crystal mf’n Waters. Pageant queens demanding I drink one more Sex on the Beach…but bartender gives me a Jack and Coke instead. Lost in YMCA. Real friends buy you tacos and sober you but you don’t want to because you realize you’ve been really embarrassing. But, that’s how all Prides end…