I hate everyone

Today, I hate everyone. I'm not sure what has gotten into me but it won't let me go. Maybe it's too much to do at work; maybe it's the upcoming Christmas season; maybe it's reading Turgenev; maybe it's because I had to drive a few miles to dinner; maybe it's the fact that I'm helping someone move on Sunday; maybe it's because the dog needs a bath; maybe it's because we, people, are fat, dumb, shallow, wasteful, mean, greedy, and bad; maybe I'm just broke; maybe I need to run or swim; maybe it's Christmas time again; maybe I should walk the earth; maybe it's because I'm doing laundry; maybe it's because I had two breakfasts; maybe there are too many luxury condos out there; maybe I want to be special; maybe that dumbass kid in Omaha with the gun wanting to be famous irks me; maybe I need a hug; maybe I should sail across the sea; maybe there are too many ads in recent issues of the New Yorker.

Maybe I just needed to vent.

Office

I want an office, a small office will do: one with a window or two overlooking a busy street, with hardwood floors, and bookshelves -- wooden bookshelves -- lining the walls. My desk, littered with notepads, will sit on a tattered Persian rug; my cocker spaniel, who will accompany me intermittently, will either lie on the rug in the morning sun or on the ancient hardwoods, near the clanging radiator, on autumn and winter days.

Rain will frequently fall outside the window of my office, usually in the morn. Around noon, the sun will shine in, around the neighboring skyscrapers and through the branches of a near-leafless tree that stands between my window and the street. My dog will frequently visit this tree, wetting the wrought iron that encircles it, though I urge him to let it alone.

A few simple photos will adorn the walls of my office; another will rest upon the corner of my desk. My wife and I, captured smiling in candlelight, will remind me that even on the worst days, this life is better than before.

And the whiskey bottle in the drawer will appear as long lost friends remove their scarves at the door.

Busy

Read:
No Country for Old Men, Cormac McCarthy
Macedonia, Harvey Pekar and Heather Roberson
The Final Solution, Michael Chabon
The Polysyllabic Spree, Nick Hornby

Reading:
Don Quixote
The World Without Us, Alan Weisman

Purchased:
Fathers and Sons, Ivan Turgenev

Passed:
LEED v2.2 exam

Downloaded:
Broken Social Scene Presents: Kevin Drew, Spirit If...
Beirut, The Flying Club Cup

Watched:
Curb Your Enthusiasm, Season 5, Disc 1

Celebrated:
Canadian Thanksgiving


Upcoming:

10/15 - Orhan Pamuk @ Benaroya
10/19 - The Women @ ACT
10/26 - Broken Social Scene @ The Moore
11/3 - Into The Woods @ 5th Ave. Theater
11/17 Scott/Powell Performance, Geography @ On The Boards

'Atta Boy Tully!

A mere 25 days after publishing an op-ed in the Seattle P-I suggesting that composting containers be placed in coffee shops, I wandered into the Tully's in Two Union. It was early and I had just got off a red-eye flight from Honolulu so I was a little grumpy. I looked over at a patron's cup and noticed something like "eco-cup, please compost me" written on the side. "Ha!" I said to myself. "They expect everyone to haul these paper cups home and throw them in their yard waste containers, the bastards." But then, I saw it: it looked like a trash can but it was green. I read the text and it said compost. Tully's coffee, out of Seattle, takes a step toward common sense.

I tried to find a market share comparison between Tully's and Starbucks but had no luck. I did, however, find that there are 37 Tully's shops here in Seattle, compared to 102 Starbucks locations. There are 132 Tully's stores nationwide compared to 8,800 Starbucks (as of an October 2006 report on msnbc.com). I applaud Tully's for having the guts and foresight to step out in front, but given the fact that Starbucks has AT LEAST 86 stores for each Tully's locale, the direct impact is going to be neglible. And, based on the 8:30 AM lines at each store near my office, I'd have to say the line at Starbucks shows the gap is even wider.

In the spirit of attempting to do what's right, even if the impact is small, I suggest you try Tully's. It's easily as good, and probably better, than Starbucks and they have a little more vision.

Or you could always just get a travel mug...

What is the world coming to?

http://www.savemoneylivebetter.com/

Eight hours

I walked into On The Boards around four this afternoon; I walked out just after midnight.

If you're tuned in to the theater scene in Seattle (not that I am, though I'd like to be), you probably know what I was doing there. If not, here it goes: I watched a troupe from NYC, known as Elevator Repair Service, read and act out The Great Gatsby, in its entirety. They call it Gatz and I thought it was really cool.

The voice of Nick Carraway started off the evening, or afternoon, rather, walking into the office with a cup of coffee in hand. He fiddled with an uncooperative computer and, while opening his rolodex, came across a tattered copy of the novel. Alone in the office, he looked at the clock then began reading...

...and he didn't stop, except for two intermissions and a dinner break. His coworkers came and went, playing the parts of Daisy, Gatsby, etc. at times while performing mundane office duties at others. They floated back and forth between fiction and reality and I glided along with them.

In an amazing feat of memorization, at the beginning of the final chapter, Nick started flipping the pages, back to front, but continued "reading" as he had been all night. This recitation continued to the penultimate sentence before he reopened the book to read, "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." One got the feeling that he very well could have recited the entire book from memory. Rumor has it that he actually knows the whole thing.

In print

Click here to see my aforementioned article on the Seattle P-I website!