the bastards' last stand

I have been planning to go to Spain for a while now. I essentially decided I should go on a "why the hell not?" impulse. After taking a step back I realized that it was exactly right, exactly what I want, and I have been filling in the blanks ever since. The reasons are varied, but the one I want to discuss today is perspective. I feel like I don't recognize my country. It's the same country as ever, beautiful ideals, poor execution, just to nutshell it. Somehow, despite our reality, our history, our poor execution, I have remained mostly optimistic that we could continue to improve and grow spiritually as a nation. And by spiritually I mean that sense of empathy and social justice that has led citizens to put themselves on the line to help and to defend the lives and rights of those seemingly disconnected from them and in danger. The story of the civil rights amendment period that interests me and confounds me still is the extent and limits of the spiritual a

I just got back from a visit to Seattle. It was lovely. I lived there for six years and ten months. It was time to go but it's still a lovely city. I like to go there and move so much slower. In almost silence. In the shadow of the sleeping volcano, Rainier. There were times, even after years of living there, when the sight of it would take my breath away. It would disappear for days, weeks, under cloud and rain and then suddenly I'd turn a corner and there it was. Huge, majestic, like god saying, "wake up boy." And the city just seemed to stay green all-year round. Is that even possible? Is that just nostalgia? I'll have to ask someone. This trip I remembered two racial dynamics that I always enjoyed there. Most black people passing each other on the street greet each other. In nyc I'd place it at 1 in every 17 (+- 2 for sample). Also there seems to be more warmth and connection between Asian and black communities in Seattle than one might fi