I’m in Seattle. Just a few short days ago I was in Kentucky, and before that New York. I’ve been moblogging from my cell phone on Flickr like a madman. It’s been a good week; I got to see my old friend Joshua Sandoz and talked him into starting a blog. Kenn Herman and I also got many hours of quality time together to drink coffee and pontificate on the future of the world. Oh, and bust our butts for Andrew’s campaign for Public Advocate of NY. If you haven’t done so already, give now. He’s running on (among other things) a platform of free wifi for New York City. What could be cooler?
Back to Seattle. I’m grumpy for all the working and lack of sleeping I’ve been doing. No time to play my video games or read my newest tome of poetry (W.S. Merwin’s “Migration”, a purchase inspired by our poetry podcast). But I’m thinking of getting a tattoo tomorrow. My mother is getting one, and how can my mother get one and I, her crazy son, not have one? I’m supa-jealous. So maybe I’ll just tag along and get one myself. Apparently my father gave her a gift certificate to get a tattoo. Don’t even ask me what that’s about.
So now I’m thinking, what to get a tattoo of? I already sort of know; I’ve been thinking about this for years. And then there’s basil flavored ice cream. A local joint, Ballard’s, makes their own ice cream in wild flavors. A while back they had a basil ice cream that was to die for; it was honestly the finest ice cream I’ve ever enjoyed. My last few trips out here they haven’t had basil, so I’ve complained mightily to the management. Finally, the last time they made a batch, my mother stocked up, so tomorrow after the tattoo I can enjoy basil ice cream. Enough madness. Back to work I go.
As If It Matters 
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