where should I

[Dechristo]

Bedford Falls.

 

no i'll settle this. humans have collectively fouled their own nest (no where more apparent than lovely Tacoma), and turned the earth shit-wasted, rat infested, overpriced, womb-barren, despot-controlled, bumper sticker plastered, grid-locked, smog-stewing collective with no redeeming qualities of which to speak other than the few places that haven't gotten around to strip mining, oil drilling, or logged with no eye to a renewable harvest yet.

 

you forgot Zoozoo's petals

 

Teacher says, "every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings."

 

 

 

[AlpineK]

We gave a hitchhiker a ride to Kamloops one time. He wanted to be dropped off downtown to hang out with the winos.

 

Kamloops looks like a sweet spot.

[kevbone]

 

Now go back to Boston and your big dig.

 

Did you know my brother in law in is charge of the Big Dig.....all of it. He is an engineer

[Dechristo]

On a project that size, there's at least fifty people who can say they're "in charge", you big dope.

[kevbone]

On a project that size, there's at least fifty people who can say they're "in charge", you big dope.

 

Nope.....he is in charge of it all....his boss is a politican. BTW....he hates his job.

[No. 13 Baby]

Nope.....he is in charge of it all....his boss is a politican. BTW....he hates his job.

 

If I'd screwed up so horribly and so publicly, I'd hate my job, too.

[kevbone]

Nope.....he is in charge of it all....his boss is a politican. BTW....he hates his job.

 

If I'd screwed up so horribly and so publicly, I'd hate my job, too.

 

He was only in charge of a small piece of it until recently…..then all the mistakes started and they threw an ungodly amount of money toward him to take over the entire thing…..he could not refuse…..he states with the way things are run….he is being set up for failure.

[Dechristo]

everyone...

 

...Thoreau your dictionaries out the window

[archenemy]

So, I'm also looking for new digs. Commuting from Ballard (actually Crown Hill, so that's even farther!) has become too overwhelming and a time suck on my life. I ruled out Bellevue--it scares me. There is no soul in Bellevue.

 

I looked at Fall City, North Bend, and Carnation yesterday. All look like great possibilities, but the subdivision craze is moving its way in. Scary. To all those people who preach "High Density", fuck you. It doesn't work. There are just more people everywhere now.

[John Frieh]

live in Seattle?

 

no luck down here or did you rule it out?

[olyclimber]

that would be a hellish commute to Bothell. Carl just needs to be close to me.

[cj001f]

eh? I said so long to stumptown 2 years ago. Been living in SoCal lately....

[EWolfe]

what about Burien? its like white center, but without the culture. and you can hear the lovely sound of 747s taking off all day.

 

BeerCan.

 

I lived under the West Seattle viaduct for a while - that was a sweet loc, lots of industrial noise to cover up the drunken debauchery and raging from gas huffing.

 

Don't let's forget Georgetown, great for you angsty, bitter struggling artist types!

[olyclimber]

I found this poem entitled "West Seattle" for you to make enjoy:

 

I SAW in the night unbroken,

In the land the daylight shuns,

At their long tables oaken

The Sea-kings and the Huns.

 

Strong arms had they for smiting,

To them death only gave

More feasting and more fighting,

More plunder for the brave.

 

Scant use had they for pleaders,

They boasted of their war,

The pitiless bright-eyed leaders,

And their battle-god was Thor.

 

And "When this right hand falters,"

Quoth one, "the soul is fled";

"And I made so many altars

Ruinous," this one said.

 

And lo! as they sat and vaunted

Across the mist of the years,

There came to them one that flaunted

The helm of the war-god's peers.

 

A little shape and a mightless,

And the strong men laughed and roared:

"Is our father Odin sightless

That bade him share the board?

 

"From what realms spoilt and plundered,

From what shrines burnt art come?

Has thine hand hewed and thundered

On the crosses of Christendom?"

 

And he said, "I too had legions,

I fouled where ye defiled,

I trod in the selfsame regions

And warred on woman and child.

 

"Tricked out in my shining armour

And riding behind my Huns,

I harried the priest and farmer,

I followed the smoking guns."

 

But the kings cried out and shouted

As they drained the sweetened mead:

"Was it thus that the Franks were routed,

When we made Europe bleed?

 

This king with a leaden rattle

And death that comes from afar,

What pride hath he of the battle?

What lust to maim or mar?

 

"The loot and the red blood running

Were the only signs we saw;

But the gods that gave thee cunning

Have also given thee law."

 

And a Northman spake: "With seven

Fair churches when I died

I had paved my path to heaven;

Their pillage was my pride.

 

"I tore the saints from their niches

With the red hands of my rage;

But what hast thou in thy ditches

To do with a craftless age?

 

"Thou hast felt no Viking's starkness;

Thou hast lost a Christian's throne."

And they drove him forth in the darkness

To find a place of his own.

[olyclimber]

I am old now, my only companion Thor's weighty wrestling friend.

Old age brings mighty warriors to their knees.

I still think of you Ragnor, shield wall companion

 

I see you again by the mead hall hearth,

A boy dreaming the old sagas,

Ragnor the *coal biter, idle boy, then warrior

My childhood companion.

 

Playing with a toy long ship your mother gave to you

To sail with the Vikings, standing at the sternpost

Steering a fine warship, hewing down some foemen

And then heading back for harbour.

 

Mighty warriors with mighty swords, shiny helmets and shield bosses

We sail over the German sea seeking plunder in Angle land

In Wave Walker, a warship, steed of the waves

With snarling dragon head.

 

Let Saxons quake in terror before the seventy sea oars

Gained well earned rest cleaving axe and sword

Slippery with blood labours of the ocean

Now labours of the ravens.

 

Norwegian arms driving Wave Walker iron studded dragon on the seal plain,

Over storm-tossed waves the gannet's bath, the German Sea

Wave walker on the whale road, seventy Norwegian Sea oars,

Like an Eagle with beating wings Ragnor, eyes the colour of the sea

 

Crashing under cliffs, the waters swirling up inlets

Cobalt and turquoise burying the shingle on Angle Land

Where we planted our banners the hammer and the raven

 

A bright winter's morning when midnight frost stayed white

In long, cold shadows Stretched across silent fields.

Seventy Norwegian shields left to warm their hands

On Saxon village fires.

 

Ragnor, hearth companion staggering from the warship

In small circles on sea legs like a drunk on a pony,

Turning and bending to touch the spinning Earth

Finding again lands legs.

 

Wildfowl whispered on marshland like old women around damp fires

Cold air escaped from feathers when they shivered

Snow melted as we marched in morning's new and different light

Beneath the Hammer and Raven.

 

The hard V of geese came in, a small stitch in grey sky

Growing larger until finally it broke apart.

Seventy spears and shields glistened in the morning air

We feeders of the ravens.

 

West Seattle rose to meet us that day with the morning smell

Of mutton, smoke and sweat. the omen sun barely rose red

Over silent fields mist silvered like premonitions

Between birch trees three hundred Saxons waited

 

Steaming outside the village sweat soaked in the mist.

Arrows echoed in the air, then came the battle cry

And with it a metal shower of rain!

 

Spear and arrowhead tattered flesh in the rush

Odin! The cry filled lungs and we fought to fill West Seattle.

Chosen to be with Odin, fighting with him at Ragnarok

Heroes to the end of time.

 

Not men but demons fight and kill or die!

In this game of iron do not think and fight

And ignore the pain, smashing the shield wall

And the Saxon line.

 

Disregarding superior numbers, thinning Saxon ranks

With obstinance and blade we smashed their shield wall

And sacked the village, howling we killed them

We mighty warriors.

 

See how bright these swords and spears shine!

See how they sweat bright blood

From slain mail coats, howling we killed them

We feeders of the ravens.

 

Raging red fire ate up their roofs

And kites wheeled in this game of iron.

Sword arms ached as howling we killed them

We proud war smiths.

 

How well we Vikings clash slippery in the sea of wounds

Beneath the Hammer and the Raven,

Skewering mail coats sprawling in the village gateways.

Howling we killed them, warriors eager for fame.

 

We held the village until a spear

Shattered your right thigh

And exposed the bone, I could not see Odin,

Blinded like Hodur in a sea of sword sweat

 

Rain of blood soaking dirt into a gory mire

We had to retreat crossing a path of comrades

Fallen in the mud, where are the Valkyries?

Shield maidens of Odin?

 

Terrible now to look as a blood red cloud darkened the sky.

Heavens stained with the blood of men

As the Valkyries started up, their songs filled the air

Seeking the bravest warriors.

 

Over dead and dying men, the Valkyries choose the battle slain

For Odin at the Ragnarok, end of time for gods and men.

Heroes laid like battered planks on the bloody road

Paving the way to West Seattle. I laid you down

 

On the earth to rest. turning to flight, more arrows

Rained cutting through , turning my shirt red.

I fell but crawled to you. Ragnor, I saw the paving

That morning in the mud. Your breathe came soft.

 

Eyes gems of pain Ragnor, hearth companion,

Soaked with sweat and blood, Valkyries, a warrior for Odin!

Ragnor, my childhood companion, urging me away.

 

I will stay with you and we will fight to enter West Seattle.

But we charged and retreat yet again?

The setting sun shone red whilst quiet

 

We listen to the cries of dying men

For water, help and death. seventy Norwegian shields

Against three hundred Saxons! Howling we killed them

We proud war smiths, the smell of blood drew hordes of wild pigs

To feed on fallen men, a sight I never want to see with my eyes again

Only death and the Valykrie call will let my eyes forget.

 

We stayed awake that night, clubbing the pigs

With our spears then Odin answered cries for water

It rained a deluge and then frost returned, drowning the body heat.

 

The rain stopped at dawn and frost encrusted the lips of heroes,

Light filled the smouldering village and battle recommenced

The pigs had gone but we dared not look at their feast.

 

Through battle and death’s smell we fought,

Aching for the Valkyries song, to join Odin in West Seattle.

The Saxon ranks broke, seventy Norwegian shields

Fighting the Saxon hordes.

 

We returned to Wave Walker, but you left your leg

In that burnt out village, you died on the seal plain.

Lost to me on the whale road Ragnor, my brother in arms

 

I am old now, With Thor's weighty wrestling friend.

I will fight again, seeking fame beneath the Hammer and Raven.

Through the haze of blue-tinged smoke in the mead hall

I still think of you. Ragnor, shield wall companion

You liked the mead hall, sizzling beef and herrings,

You the drinking horn, roast wildfowl

And sucking gulls eggs, I still think of you, mighty warrior

 

The mead hall, carved benches, hero-marked wooden tables,

And shinning shield bosses reflecting firelight

And the smell of tallow. drinking horn and all of it famed

By our heroic sagas.

 

This is the World you loved, warm cosy and familiar

Serving maidens with mead and Ale filled horns

Oyster and mussel shells with bread on iron griddles

Baking on the longhouse fire.

 

The conversation tasted of raids, plunder, unfaithful wives and adventure;

Long ships, slaves and swords all of this you loved

And in such places, I seek your voice And your laughter

 

For the serving maidens. Ragnor, mead hall companion

I still seek your drunkenness and disapproval

When it is time to go in the blue-tinged smoke,

I still see you now and then Sitting there waiting for me.

[TREETOAD]

U r 1 fukt up gy

 

 

[Alpinfox]

WELCOME TO BAJA CANADA!

[olyclimber]

* What's good for Dick Cheney is good for America.

* Cheney actually keeps his soul inside of a cursed strongbox surrounded by a chupacabra-filled lake of boiling oil (donated by Halliburton), and that lake is contained deep within Area 51 which is guarded by a clone of the Master Chief and the now-unemployed zombie-skeletons from Army of Darkness.

* Cheney doesn't blink much. Puts too much strain on the area of his chest where the heart is located in other people.

* Cheney's daughter Lynn owns a very successful rug cleaning business.

* Cheney has recused himself from any tie to that Rug Cleaning business and will not talk about it in public.

* Cheney never cries for anything.

* Cheney's presence and name spread feelings of warmth and security, even to reporters.

* Cheney has feelings for his lesbian daughter, and does not know any hookers.

[AlpineK]

what about Burien? its like white center, but without the culture. and you can hear the lovely sound of 747s taking off all day.

 

BeerCan.

 

I lived under the West Seattle viaduct for a while - that was a sweet loc, lots of industrial noise to cover up the drunken debauchery and raging from gas huffing.

 

Don't let's forget Georgetown, great for you angsty, bitter struggling artist types!

 

My Great Grandfather owned a bakery in Georgetown back when that was where all the recent immigrants from Germany moved to.

 

Georgetown I'll be there tonight.