Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

and on that note

Almost every day I have at least one "Seattle moment" when I experience something that carries the unique flavor of the city. I keep meaning to collect these and post them, but they're always so fleeting--so ephemeral--that I forget about them; they settle into my unconscious and I remember only in a general sense that I wanted to share the moment. But I can tell you about this morning, when I descended into the metro tunnel at eight a.m. and there was a busker already seated cross-legged across from the Nordstrom entrance, playing beautiful and melancholy variations on "Greensleeves" on his flute.

On the other end of the spectrum are the staggering number of people who wander the streets talking to themselves, or to god or invisible fairies. This is probably not unique to Seattle, I realize. It tends to make me think of those movies where clues about the alien invasion go unnoticed until it's too late. If only we'd paid attention, we'd have realized that aliens were spying on our populace through the eyes of selected vagrants, who were remote-controlled with remote visioning as they wandered and observed.

A few minutes ago, anaxila came by my desk and gave me eight lipsticks and four mascaras--bonus gifts from a plethora of Clinique purchases. I feel girlish! I feel love!

::hugs Anaxila::

By the way, plethora can mean not just a profusion, but "a bodily condition characterized by an excess of blood and marked by turgescence and a florid complexion." Just so you know.
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