There’s a group of South African guys who hang out in the park outside my apartment drinking, and police dump their beers out multiple times a week. Usually the bicycle cops do it—they ride across the park at a leisurely pace and surround the guys, write them tickets...
An ongoing search for forgotten parts of the Seattle Underground led my friend Jack and I to Joe’s Bar on King Street. The bar was first described to me as “the bar you go to the night you get out of prison,” though I’ve had nothing but pleasant interactions with...
I was trying to jack off a hangover away last Sunday afternoon when I heard a knock on the door. I shoved related accoutrements under the bed, convinced as I often am because I have no money that eviction was underway. As I went for the door, the possibility occurred...
Shortly after I met my girlfriend Mary Anne, we stayed for a weekend at that most patchouli-scented of romantic destinations, Doe Bay. The resort, on Orcas Island, is famous for its clothing-optional hot springs and rentable yurts. On our first day there, in June, we...
I was at the Blue Moon Tavern, where the booths are (appropriately) crescent-shaped, secluding their occupants from the rest of the bar. My date and I had been there about thirty minutes when a wobbling man in a linen suit flopped into our booth and just sat there,...