On Tacoma Again

This post predates Solvitur Ambulando. The following is my reaction to traveling from a grey weather pattern into one with clear skies. The only thing I can hope is that reading this will piss off or embarrass my former Tacomians to get out from under that sad cloud and see a better place when it gets grey again later this year.  I know, I know, summer is awesome in the PNW.

What a depressing climate!  Yea, the trees are awesome.  Yea, the coffee is phenomenal. Yea, the constant springing up of new and delectable microbrews keep the bars interesting.  And the music scene blew my mind.  There was a night where I had a bit of hash oil, some fine medicinal, and a few powerful IPAs, so I was well equipped to take in a concert.  So what did I do?  I sat on a wooden stool directly between my buddy Ike on the microphone and a vacant-eyed metal shredding genius on an electric guitar.  I’m talking about: he played the full theme song of Pulp Fiction, with some well-played, matching drums, so well that I was Quentin Travolta Jackson for what felt like the full 2 and half hour duration of the film.  To the right of the axe shredder was a 4 foot tall stack of PAs from which the sounds blasted.  Continuing the circular spectacle in a counter clockwise fashion was the full drum kit which I rested my foot on the kick drum, and finally back to Ike on the mic.  I sat there with a South Park ajar mouth of awe for about 15 minutes fervently attempting to capture the magical performance via snapchat and continuously filling and deleting memory on my limited smart phone. No one else is really impressed.  That’s what kind of music scene Tacoma has squirreled away from the rest of the world.

But damn it’s a sad place 2/3 of the year.  Seeing the sky is like taking a heavy load off my shoulders.  I’ve spent time on boats.  I’ve studied books about and can read clouds better than most modern humans would ever need to.  I’ve seen so many post card sunrises on the water it almost frustrates me.  Almost.  I still smile and take a deep breath thinking about any particular one.  Like the one I’m about to see as soon as this little pack of gum with wings takes off from Minneapolis bound for Nashville.  Seeing actual color contrast and golden whimsical lining on the clouds no Michelangelo or Davinci could ever dream of capturing puts my soul right where it needs to be and I vow never to take it for granted til the day my energy escapes my core.

I am gonna miss quite a growing number of those subtly chained spirits.  They look up to me.  They shouldn’t, but that’s good.  That means some ideas are brewing and (side note: transportation engineering and roadwork design is freaking beautiful.  I’m looking at two roundabouts, 69ing each other and it’s undetectably, asymmetrically symmetrical, if that makes sense.  It looks perfect like computer animation.) ambitions are being ignited.  I am fanning that flame.  That’s why I’m here, I’ve discovered.

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