Year: 2004

Over by the window a man describes the history of every dish on the menu to the woman across the table from him. While she’s not quite enraptured, she does seem mildly impressed.

We’re seated next to the fish tank. The fish — big Koi goldfish — are nipping at every available surface in their search for sustenance. They go for the aquarium walls, the shells and coral, and even chew on each other.

The pair at the other table are ordering. The waitress asks, “How spicy?”

The guy hesitates and explains, “I usually like it really spicy, but since we’re sharing and this is your first time, we might want to keep it down at two stars.”

A small group is seated at a table just behind me now. “We put out leaflets, and a couple of weeks later we have a mass march, but then what happens? How are things different?”

Back at the window: “The thing about Chicago is that it’s a hub.”

One of the fish is vacuuming rocks up off the aquarium floor.

The guy at the window table, one last time: “You mean you’ve never had a lost weekend?” It’s a first date, no question.

I called 911. “I’m at Pike Place Market – First and Pike. Someone has collapsed in the middle of the street.”

The dispatcher pressed me for details that I didn’t have. “It looks like we’ve already got someone on the way. Thanks.” I hung up and got back to eating my sandwich.

There was already a crowd huddled over the fallen man. After a couple of traffic light cycles, they picked him up and carried him to the sidewalk where they laid him out.

There was a siren and traffic made way for a fire truck.

I asked a rhetorical question, “Why do they always send both a fire truck and an ambulance?”

Fire fighters jumped out of the truck. A woman wearing business attire reached up from the huddle and shook one of the fire fighters’ hands. The fire fighter was wearing latex gloves.

The crowd wandered away as the fire fighters got to work. The woman was gone within thirty seconds of the handshake.

One of the fire fighters carried a big yellow case over from the truck.

Samantha described the details that I wasn’t noticing. “They’re shocking him.”

“What? Is that what that is? Do they have those paddles? I don’t see it.”

“Yes. They’re shocking him. He just moved.”

“He did? Where’s the ambulance? I guess it’s a good thing that they do send a fire truck.”

The fire fighters helped the man sit up. They left him up for a minute before gently prompting him to lay back down.

Another siren. The ambulance pulled up next to the fire truck. The paramedics talked to the fire fighters briefly, then rolled out a gurney, lifted the man onto it, and hauled him on board.

The ambulance headed up Pike – no flashing lights – and the fire truck followed a moment later. That was it. Samantha and I continued eating our sandwiches. Actually, I think I had pizza.

Happy Birthday, Dad

It’s a big round birthday today for my dad. I looked around a bit and found this picture of him from a few years back.

The People’s Pub in downtown Ballard, Washington

Until hands are steadier than tables or we become less flash-shy, beers and salt shakers will dwarf fotologgers in meetup photos.

fotolog.net/dylanw/
fotolog.net/gingerly/
fotolog.net/guideon_72/ +2
fotolog.net/la_vie_en_rouge/
fotolog.net/nosuchuserexists/
miscmedia.com/

This was posted using a Handspring Treo 270 PDA and Eudora Web. I think there are a couple of input-y ticks between Eudora and this hardware, but the display is cleaner than the default browser’s.

It took at least ten minutes to type this out, but I was eating lunch at the same time.

Waiting an hour in a 3 Minute Loading Zone

There are more true facts now then there have been at any other time in our history.

Not only has the volume of true facts increased dramatically in recent years, but modern facts are truer than the facts from our grandparents’ days. The average fact of 2000 was 5.2% truer than the facts from the year 1900.

Who among us can separate Truths from those things that are merely true? The child who pointed out that the emperor wears no clothes was himself wearing mismatched socks.

Truth is, I wrote this a couple of weeks ago, and am putting it here because I have no other words to go with this photo.

Menorah at Westlake Center

Disclaimer?

There goes Robert, bundled up against the weather, walking through the parking lot across the street. I’m at Bauhaus, reading a book and drinking cocoa. I only see Robert from behind, but his left glasses lens is visible from this angle. His face is lopsided or his glasses are askew or his head is turned slightly this way, and there’s that big lens. It feels like he’s staring back at me through it.

I went to see Master and Commander last night. The fire alarm went off in the theater and the audience was herded outside. They fed us free passes and sent us away. But before that happened, there was a scene in the movie where the ship was preparing for battle. Aubrey lifted a spyglass up to his eye to study the enemy ship. He flinched. What he saw in the scope was the French captain standing out on deck, peering back at Aubrey through his own spyglass. That’s what seeing the lens staring at me from the other side of Robert’s head feels like. Robert sometimes stops by my usual haunts to see if I’m around to buy him coffee. And I assume that he was just in here, and that he either didn’t spot me, or he decided that he’d be bothering me if he did come over to talk. (Chances are, I would have been bothered.)

Now he’s passed out of sight behind a building. There are no sidewalks on that side of the street. I guess he might be camped out under the overpass.

Loose piles of distinct snowflakes accumulate in corners and on edges. Sharp-edged flakes swirl in the wind and sting bare faces. It’s freaking cold.