The Traveler
Good morning from the Foster-Powell triangle, where I am officially on vacation. From today (Sat. the 5th of October, 2024) until next Sunday (October 13th) I have nothing on the calendar except for being a poet, a little travel, and a few quiet hang outs. Work is done for a while. And I'm grateful for it.
Packed already for the travel. Train to Seattle. 4 days on the Market. Nothing but writing and reading and eating and a little wandering. Keep within a 4 block radius. My favorite kind of travel. You get to know one space. And that's all I need right now: one space. One quiet but bustling space to escape to.
The last time I did this trip was in 2022. I was at the end of my escape from teaching. Needed a trip to look forward to. The same thing: train, Seattle, youth hostel, on the cheap. Sometimes you have things you do that are just for you.
It was on that trip that Liz from Outside In called me, and let me know I had gotten the job. Interview on the side of a road, because it was the best place for cell range. It's wild to be on this trip as she is transitioning away from the job. And I'll still be there, in my little office, doing my thing.
I'm already packed of course. I packed 2 weeks ago, and have been living out of the bag, just to see what that would be like. 4 changes of clothes. A travel pillow this time. A carhartt's duffle because the rolling suitcase was too unweildy, and I need to be able to crunch down into small spaces. No computer this time. Set my phone up for travel status only. Can set do not disturb, put on earbuds, and just wander in my head.
I love Pike's Place Market. It feels grungy and rundown. It feels local. Weirdly local. Just people working. During the autumn it is end of season, but it's a place that's always open. So. Magic shop. Coffee shops. Pieroshki Pieroshki. Don't even THINK about Starbucks. Eat a lot of charcuterie. One splurge meal. Delight and wonder.
One day in Tacoma. See Rose. See her harem. Fool around and watch wrestling. Feel good in my body. Relax.
A lot to mourn at this time of year. Heading towards the anniversary of deaths. Job is getting dislodged. Cigarette season. But I will live. And I will find little joys.
There is an anarchist bookstore at the entrance of the market. In the loft area are pillars with the names of anarchist kids who probably slept there. One of those names was my old name, from my short time living in Seattle in 2000. I wrote my name next to that kid's name last time. I may just put a moon there this time. A life. It's wild to think of this long weird life.
I hope you are doing well, my friends. Mourn. But live. A great tide of death feels like it's coming. Find a way to write, sing, delight in your bodies. It's ok. It's ok. It's ok.
Love, Misha Lynn Moon