Got the word from
World Carfree Network
HQ in Prague that due to a miscommunication 130 copies of
Carbusters were sent
in error to a distributor in Seattle--could I pick them up before they got
tossed? Sure I could. Got on my bike and rode to 316 Terry, the heart of
a massive
Paul
Allen ego trip, construction on every corner and the streets themselves,
ruts and rails, South Lake Union being transformed into a hive of biotech
complexes and the mixed use (housing + retail) developments that will serve
the workers, complete with local-only streetcar tracks. Well, that's progress,
a return to the
company
store, nowadays called
"vertical
integration."
I get to the address and see
Brad Beshaw, formerly of Hypno
Video, Confounded Books, and now
Steel Tigers of
Death. "You work here?" Yeah. Smiles, handshakes, introductions--his
boss is in the white dumpster, carefully packing unsold 2007 page-a-day and
wall calendars for their journey to the recycler long before their numbers
are up. Sex, Zen, Cats, World Almanac,
Thich
Nhat Hanh, Paper Airplanes, and food art. "Take as many as you want,"
she says. So I load up my bicycle saddlebag, then precariously bungee the
box of magazines to the rack.
I ride to the Alibi, almost lose my load in a turn, restrap, then lock up
at my spot in Post Alley, hoping no one will go to the bother of stealing
the box; maybe they'll fear it's a bomb. I put up the latest round of
posters,
catch a double vodka tonic, then head out for the slow roll back home, pausing
copiously along the waterfront to enjoy the sun and sights of the Sound.
The condos lining the waterfront remind me of the stacks of calendars, partly
because they seem made of paper (well, same plants--trees--mostly) and partly
because there's a metaphor lurking there, the empty schedules, the boxes
to be filled and days crossed off, spent pages torn and tossed
away.... |
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