Today, biking west on Washington Street, just past 4th Ave. where the police have set up a mobile precinct to deal with an increase in cocaine dealing at this intersection, a Toyota with Washington plates turns left in front of me.  Its license plate holder bears the I’m-pretty-sure-unwitting label “Scion of Olympia”.

• Woken at 7:30 this morning by sound of police cars, spaced a couple minutes apart over an approximately 40 minute interval, the number and apparent speed (from Doppler effect, and sound of powerful car engines) of which led me to think that someone had a gun.  John W. Myers, 92, had shot his son and a woman, and surrendered peacefully, 1.6 miles south of my house.

• Death of Andrew Wyeth, 91, today.  Man with a secret, or merely a master of self-promotion?  Helga paintings.

• Death of Patrick McGoohan, 80, of The Prisoner fame, this week.

• After lunch, walking to bank:  On 9th Ave, a woman, 40s, walking towards me, on phone, almost bumps into me though her eyes are open.  Dressed in aspirational blonde realtor (actual occupation unknown), blue sweater, black pants, low heels, chunky necklace.  Left hand and forearm held tight across ribs (for warmth?) in low 40s cool. As she swerves to avoid me, I hear her say “We have to get those chickens out of the coop.”

• Almost at bank:  Old man, mid to late 70s, mostly bald, long white beard, thick parka.  Smiles wanly or conspiratorially as I pass him.

• On way back from bank, I see this side exit door (below) of the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall:

This is the sort of picture that designers are always posting to illustrate, wordlessly, how the city communicates to us impactfully on a daily basis.  I hate that shit.  But I like this picture.  Just because it’s got orange in it. 

Well, it’s been in the news. You can view more wintry scenes here.  The funniest thing about all the snow is all the people who have moved here from snowy places explaining how the snow does not faze them, and how, really, the city should be doing a better job of cleaning up the mess, vaguely imagining themselves directing snow removal logistics.  I was walking downtown and there was an old man speaking to me, but really to anyone who would listen, saying “This doesn’t bother me.  They had seventeen inches in East Hartford, Connecticut.  Look at these garbage trucks.  At least they’re making an effort to pick up the trash after all these days.  But they don’t have chains on their tires; didn’t they hear there was an edict about that?”

Anyway here is a movie from my walk:

Observation made during last week’s Thanksgiving trip:

Fig. 2: Freshly made apple pie (2008), constructed and exhibited at Brenda's apartment.

Fig. 1: Maya Lin's 2 x 4 Landscape (2006), at the De Young Museum

5:00 P.M.:  Return to normal.

Yesterday morning, I saw this man, working alone in the crisp autumn air.  I happened to be playing Air’s Pocket Symphony, and it seemed to go nicely with the scene.  Today it rained hard for hours, and I’m not sure if his efforts were erased. 

I’m very lazy today.  Or being very selective about posting content I did not create.  Or still nursing my election hangover. Take your pick.