wishin bones: matcha chacha

The city was all spakling glass and long shadows at noon today when I arrrived at Pier 55. But the office towers and high-rises, with their first floor delicatessans and modern furniture retail spaces were not my destination. I made a pit stop for a pack of smokes, and proceeded up the hill, towards home. Capitol Hill is essentially the equivalent of where I live, and you know you've arrived when you note the sudden upswing in the number of nobody coffe houses and skinny pants. I traipsed through the streets with a cigarette in my fingers, the sun burning a fake-rayban tan onto my cheeks as I sought sustenance and caffeine. I passed Oddfellows once before I resigned to eating there, and looped back down to the dingey looking street and tottered up the steps. High ceilings and exposed brick walls. Bordered on one side by the espresso machines and cash rigister, the bar cadicorner along the back wall. Long tables like a caffeteria replaced the obligatory bistro tables, and only four tables stood outside on the sidewalk. The bearded barista took my drink order while I was still in line, giving me a cup for my self serve coffee and offering me the option of paying for it when the line went down. I smiled and stayed in line to order food. Outside, coffee and moleskine on the table, I eavedropped on a bike-riding, graphic-designing beard wearing hipster in a v-neck t shirt and very nearly lost track of what I was writing. After finishing my strata and coffee, and having made some mental notes about the design of the shop, I set off once more, cigarettes at the ready.

What sounds like a picturesque day was briefly and violently despoiled by a kamikaze crow, hell bent on snagging one of my bobby pins for its collection. I've since been too scared to inspect the top of my head for battle scars.

After picking up symphony tickets at the will call window at Benaroya hall and making a quick purchase at the SAM gift shop, I meandered through the market, ending at Tully's with a matcha latte and sat in the park to address some post cards. I caught the water taxi back to Alki and walked to the beach, only to discover my feet hurt to much for walking on the beach. I came home to eggplant parmesan and began packing for Vancouver.

And if that's not an art student hipster bitch's vacation diary, I've truly no idea who I am.