two for | A Writer in Residence

anu at work.
"Wake it every day, say,
'Good morning.' Then
make the coffee. Warm
the cups. Don't expect much
of the day. 
That's more
than you need. We can
love anybody, even
everybody. But you 
can love the silence."

Jack Ridl, Take Love For Granted

(photos) on film with Pentax k1000 | my friend Anu at work in Brooklyn 
(p.s.) here is an interview he did about writing, rituals and the grooves in a record | two more for BK. 
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just barely september in Salem.

more apples.
my sister's barn.
apples (not falling far).
multipurpose buckets.
the tail end of apple season at my sister's farm in Salem, OR.  After packing up my apartment in Massachusetts, I had two weeks before I moved to Seattle. I spent most of the time living in the lap of luxury, staying in my room Lily and AJ's guestroom. We started every morning with backyard blackberries and chia seed (what AJ calls "the breakfast of kings") and I passed the afternoons sort-of-working on my thesis at their kitchen table (what Lily calls "being retired").

(photos) on film with Pentax K1000
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on claiming a place.

On my last week in Massachusetts, the very edges of the sugar maples had started to turn orange. I noticed on my daily walk down main street (actually, the very same tree that I took a photo of my first year). And it was strange to find it so familiar, to know what was coming from that season.

I remember once, crammed in the back seat of a car, talking to a friend from my theory class. We were on the long winding back-road between Amherst and Northampton, and he asked me how I liked New England. Before I even answered, I asked where he was from. He responded that he'd moved there from Brooklyn. 

And there was something about that answer - that very particular city - that made me think he'd understand. So, I started to unload all of the secret worries I had, about leaving and losing my city.  I felt like I'd been in the right place for once in my life, then I left it. I suspected it was a mistake not to buy a house when the market was good. I missed my chance to claim Portland as mine, forever. 

When my voice started to crack I asked him: "how long can you live in a place before you have say you're from there?"

He knew what I meant, because he shook his head in disagreement: "Amherst is not a thing" he said. Amherst wasn't a place you claim like Brooklyn or Portland. It doesn't demand you trade in your membership. So I lived knowing that I could have them both. That it was only two years, and I could love that liminal place deeply without ever having to choose.

But, here I am now in Seattle. This is where I'll be until I'm a year past thirty. And Seattle -- Seattle is a thing. People have their allegiances. On Sunday even the busses light-up with the blinking words "Go Seahawks."

So even in the moments I think I could love this city, there's this lingering fear about what I'm losing. By the time I'm done here, I'll have lived in Seattle longer than Massachusetts and Portland combined.  Those big, significant cities will just be short dashes on a timeline.  And Seattle, regardless of where my heart is, will be my home...

(photo) on iPhone + vsco | the house on King St. in Northampton.
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a first look at life in Seattle.

Seattle skyline.
window peering.
best oysters!

the first few film photos of my time in Seattle, in colors of gray of course.

(photos) on film with Pentax K1000 | skyline, Samuel, and the best oyster bar on earth
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