Oh Sweet Sweet Olympia

I've been in a bit of a rut. Life has been one task after another, mixed with booze and socializing. I make a front. I have a good time, but I have been feeling lost. On Monday I got the call. It was Poot, who I had not seen in a few months.

"What's up man, are you busy tomorrow?" He asked. I replied "I have nothing important to do," which was true. "Come to Olympia and we'll hang out." It seemed like a good idea. The next day I was on the 592 express to the 512 park and ride in Tacoma.

The ride was beautiful, looking out through the wooded areas. I couldn't help but smile.

Then, at the park and ride I chatted it up with an Evergreen student named Julianne. We talked about graphic novels and sustainable farming. While on the bus our conversation was continually interrupted by a woman in her fifties, but I couldn't help but laugh.

I got off the bus and said "later" to Julianne, knowing I would probably never speak to her again in my life. Poot called and said he was on his way, and while I waited my brother Patrick called.

There was an electricity in the air, I could feel the energy and good will of Olympia, my smile held strong. Then, it got bigger, as I saw the mid-nineties Jeep Cherokee roll into the parking lot across the street.

Poot and I smoked a cigarette and decided to wing it. As we walked down the street we ran into Olympia local and West Seattlite Afton. Afton was standing there smoking a rolled cigarette and taking about print making and opening a restaurant. We made eye contact as I walked towards her and she let out a loud "HOLY SHIT!" and from there the night continued with a mixture of good vibes and "Holy Shit has it been that long?"s.

We ate at a wonderful place called "Le Voyeur" and drank (fittingly) Olympia Beer. We talked about dreams and the collective consciousness. We ate French Fries with special sauce. Afterwards, we headed over to Afton's friend Miranda's house.

Miranda's is a traveler's place. The back yard is covered in tents. There are punk rock kids passed out here and there, some sharing recently dumpstered food. There are a plethora of random dogs with bandannas around their necks. Poot, Afton, and I headed up to Miranda's room and talked more about Art and Music.

We drank wine from the bottle and I played guitar. I made sure everyone sang along.

Then, weary and bleary eyed, Poot and I hit the road; we were off to Delphinia, the 36 acre farm his girl lived on. Poot and I stayed up till five o'clock drinking tequila and running through the underbrush.

As I lay there in the guest's sleeping nook I reflected on my day. I had spent all my money, my lungs felt heavy from all the cigarettes I had smoked, and I was dog tired. I felt like the happiest man alive. I was glad to be back in Olympia, and glad to be going home in the morning, a little tired and a little refreshed.