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Pack Your Bags, We're Moving!
4 years ago
30 December 2008
28 December 2008
22 December 2008
15 December 2008
14 December 2008
08 December 2008
06 December 2008
05 December 2008
How To Talk To Anyone
Two things have happened to me in the past 24 hours that have made me realize how vulnerable I am, that we all are. Although nothing really happened, I feel that they were about to. Maybe I was imagining that the situations were worse than they really were, but on the other hand, a few people think I never worry about my surroundings in terms of danger, and if thats true, I was definitely thinking about it in these two instances (the truth is, is that although I am very drawn to areas maybe not as safe as my home, I am always looking around).
Last night I was walking to return some library books at about 10 PM, to the very-nearby library branch. I have seen some interestingly-large-amounts-of-police-cars-at-one-location type of stuff near my house (9 at once at the Shell station across the street, searching a honda accord), but its all speculative as to what is going on. I have never really thought of the area I live in as being very dangerous, although its in a big city, and my car insurance went up 500 dollars per year when i moved from Redmond, less than 10 miles away.
So, I set out and walk around the corner, along a major street, with a weak flow of traffic and no other pedestrians in sight. As i go around a bend, next to the chinese-mexican market, with its awning and wall covered in yellow paint and marginally illuminated, I see this husky white guy with a beard walking towards me, but once he sees me, starts walking very slowly. I walk towards the left, to go around him, and while maintiaining eye contact he walks towards my left. I think that maybe this is one of those "wanna dance?" situations, but something felt wierd, so I start walking towards the right of the sidewalk, and he slows down more, and walks towards my right side of the sidewalk. There was something ominous about his posture and the look in his eyes; not wanting to risk it, I turned around and walked towards the aforementioned Shell gas station and ultimately around my block back to my appartment.
This morning, I wanted to test out my new, old camera (Canon Canonet GL17 QL). With grand plans to walk from my house in Beacon Hill towards the International District, through Chinatown, through Pioneer Square, along the water front, through Downtown, up Pine through Capitol Hill, back through First Hill, back through the International District, and back up to Beacon Hill, and use a few rolls of film (according to g-maps pedometer, I walked 8.77 miles today!).
Between Chinatown and Pioneer Square is what I would consider to be Seattle's version of SF's Tenderloin. This mix of homeless people and crazy homeless people (Sadly, it seems that there is not much of a difference, maybe its inevitable after a few years on the streets, or maybe for some people its inevitable to end up on the streets. Anyways, I will not get into this controversial subject right now) spread heavily into Chinatown, my hypothesis being that the Chinese people of Seattle who live in this enclave are a combination meet this criteria: passive, charitable, and owners of businesses who may leave food in the areas myriad alleys, which also serve greatly as places to live, and drink, and therefore, sleep and urinate. Anyways, I had been trying to take pictures of Chinatown as it is one of the last remaining ungentrified areas in the central part of Seattle, although I have been told that the area is currently going through gentrification. Alas, it is not hugely evident. I have seen many interesting things there, and many of these things seem to be in the alleyways. Great timing is needed in these alleyways, as for one, it seems that the sun is only above the horizon from about 8-3 each day, shrouding the walls in shadows for the majority of this time, and two, because the residents of these alleys begin their drinking in and habitation of these spaces early, and sleep until fairly late in the morning.
I have had a few suspicious Chinese people look at me in the alleyways, although I am not sure why they seem so suspicious of me, when they seem to ignore me when i'm on the street, unless I try to take their picture, and ignore the homeless people altogether, just as the homeless people seem to completely ignore the area's business owners and residents. There is a very weird dynamic in this neighborhood. Anyways, today as I am walking down one of the main streets, I see this awesome guy, black, in full army fatigues, even with an army-drab duffel bag. He's on a mission, over. I think he has something to say to me, but he just tells me to relay a message to the general that it is time to begin the widespread cardboard collection operation.
...
Before this, this lady, white, an obvious junky, perpetually in a state of manic crying, or at least her face, but able talk normal, not as if she is sobbing; she uses a normal speach pattern to convey gibberish. They were both in the same place, this miltary gentleman and this could-be star of PBS's "The Meth Epidemic," but at different times, at the entrance of this alley on the northeastern edge of the district. First I shared the company of this lady as I tried to take a picture of a somewhat funny sign, but I had to leave and make a trip around the block before taking the picture, because I kept catching her staring at me, saying something, I think infering that its tragic that I am trying to take a picture of her, although the camera was never even close to being pointed in her direction, and that I should give her $omething; she probably would have told me a good story if I had gotten close to her. Finally, she stood there with her hands up to her face, mocking me with her imaginary camera, manically moving her hands within a couple inches of their initial position, while I walked away. I checked back two times within the next minute, and she was continuing this. I should have taken a picture, like she wanted or expected me to. So, i return, and luckily, she is not there, but the army man is. So i walk around the block again, and when i return no one is in the alley, not even the chef who was smoking there previously. So i walk in, take a picture of some stuff, then start to raise the camera to my face once again, as I hear, "Hey man, wat-chu doin'?" "taking pictures," I reply as I start walking away, im sure undertones of fear present in my voice. "Hey man, come back here, I said, WHAT YOU DOING?" Coming from the mouth of this tall, scruff looking black man who is aproaching me rapidly, but without running. I figured it better not to take a chance, and, well, I guess there is no shame in running from a person in an alley So, I swallowed my pride, and it was not a sprint, but I was no longer walking. I'd imagine this was a wise choice, as I'm sure this guy did not have interest in what I was doing, but rather was hoping by talking to me i'd let my gaurd down. Most of the people I encountered in, and at the mouth of, this alley seemed like they had much to lose.
I expect stuff like this in large cities in third world countries, but after being in, or thinking that I was in, two situations like this, I realize how easy it would be to grab me, hurt me, and take whatever they want from me, and that I can probably avoid situations like this. I guess i would like to think I can go wherever I want, whenever I want, and be safe, or unnoticed. While living in Huntington Beach and San Luis Obispo, I surely could do this, and I guess that although it is relatively safe for its size, Seattle is not either of those places. Oh well, having some adrenaline pulse through my veins every once in a while is nice.
So, I continued canvasing the streets for a while, and saw the urban commando again; as he was crossing the street, i hear him shouting, yet whispering, "INCOMING, FROM THE LEFT." I saw some other interesting people too, and although they have sad lives, they are so interesting to me, their life being so different than anything I can realistically imagine...I wish i could spend a day or two following some of these people (not the meth-head lady).
Last night I was walking to return some library books at about 10 PM, to the very-nearby library branch. I have seen some interestingly-large-amounts-of-police-cars-at-one-location type of stuff near my house (9 at once at the Shell station across the street, searching a honda accord), but its all speculative as to what is going on. I have never really thought of the area I live in as being very dangerous, although its in a big city, and my car insurance went up 500 dollars per year when i moved from Redmond, less than 10 miles away.
So, I set out and walk around the corner, along a major street, with a weak flow of traffic and no other pedestrians in sight. As i go around a bend, next to the chinese-mexican market, with its awning and wall covered in yellow paint and marginally illuminated, I see this husky white guy with a beard walking towards me, but once he sees me, starts walking very slowly. I walk towards the left, to go around him, and while maintiaining eye contact he walks towards my left. I think that maybe this is one of those "wanna dance?" situations, but something felt wierd, so I start walking towards the right of the sidewalk, and he slows down more, and walks towards my right side of the sidewalk. There was something ominous about his posture and the look in his eyes; not wanting to risk it, I turned around and walked towards the aforementioned Shell gas station and ultimately around my block back to my appartment.
This morning, I wanted to test out my new, old camera (Canon Canonet GL17 QL). With grand plans to walk from my house in Beacon Hill towards the International District, through Chinatown, through Pioneer Square, along the water front, through Downtown, up Pine through Capitol Hill, back through First Hill, back through the International District, and back up to Beacon Hill, and use a few rolls of film (according to g-maps pedometer, I walked 8.77 miles today!).
Between Chinatown and Pioneer Square is what I would consider to be Seattle's version of SF's Tenderloin. This mix of homeless people and crazy homeless people (Sadly, it seems that there is not much of a difference, maybe its inevitable after a few years on the streets, or maybe for some people its inevitable to end up on the streets. Anyways, I will not get into this controversial subject right now) spread heavily into Chinatown, my hypothesis being that the Chinese people of Seattle who live in this enclave are a combination meet this criteria: passive, charitable, and owners of businesses who may leave food in the areas myriad alleys, which also serve greatly as places to live, and drink, and therefore, sleep and urinate. Anyways, I had been trying to take pictures of Chinatown as it is one of the last remaining ungentrified areas in the central part of Seattle, although I have been told that the area is currently going through gentrification. Alas, it is not hugely evident. I have seen many interesting things there, and many of these things seem to be in the alleyways. Great timing is needed in these alleyways, as for one, it seems that the sun is only above the horizon from about 8-3 each day, shrouding the walls in shadows for the majority of this time, and two, because the residents of these alleys begin their drinking in and habitation of these spaces early, and sleep until fairly late in the morning.
I have had a few suspicious Chinese people look at me in the alleyways, although I am not sure why they seem so suspicious of me, when they seem to ignore me when i'm on the street, unless I try to take their picture, and ignore the homeless people altogether, just as the homeless people seem to completely ignore the area's business owners and residents. There is a very weird dynamic in this neighborhood. Anyways, today as I am walking down one of the main streets, I see this awesome guy, black, in full army fatigues, even with an army-drab duffel bag. He's on a mission, over. I think he has something to say to me, but he just tells me to relay a message to the general that it is time to begin the widespread cardboard collection operation.
...
Before this, this lady, white, an obvious junky, perpetually in a state of manic crying, or at least her face, but able talk normal, not as if she is sobbing; she uses a normal speach pattern to convey gibberish. They were both in the same place, this miltary gentleman and this could-be star of PBS's "The Meth Epidemic," but at different times, at the entrance of this alley on the northeastern edge of the district. First I shared the company of this lady as I tried to take a picture of a somewhat funny sign, but I had to leave and make a trip around the block before taking the picture, because I kept catching her staring at me, saying something, I think infering that its tragic that I am trying to take a picture of her, although the camera was never even close to being pointed in her direction, and that I should give her $omething; she probably would have told me a good story if I had gotten close to her. Finally, she stood there with her hands up to her face, mocking me with her imaginary camera, manically moving her hands within a couple inches of their initial position, while I walked away. I checked back two times within the next minute, and she was continuing this. I should have taken a picture, like she wanted or expected me to. So, i return, and luckily, she is not there, but the army man is. So i walk around the block again, and when i return no one is in the alley, not even the chef who was smoking there previously. So i walk in, take a picture of some stuff, then start to raise the camera to my face once again, as I hear, "Hey man, wat-chu doin'?" "taking pictures," I reply as I start walking away, im sure undertones of fear present in my voice. "Hey man, come back here, I said, WHAT YOU DOING?" Coming from the mouth of this tall, scruff looking black man who is aproaching me rapidly, but without running. I figured it better not to take a chance, and, well, I guess there is no shame in running from a person in an alley So, I swallowed my pride, and it was not a sprint, but I was no longer walking. I'd imagine this was a wise choice, as I'm sure this guy did not have interest in what I was doing, but rather was hoping by talking to me i'd let my gaurd down. Most of the people I encountered in, and at the mouth of, this alley seemed like they had much to lose.
I expect stuff like this in large cities in third world countries, but after being in, or thinking that I was in, two situations like this, I realize how easy it would be to grab me, hurt me, and take whatever they want from me, and that I can probably avoid situations like this. I guess i would like to think I can go wherever I want, whenever I want, and be safe, or unnoticed. While living in Huntington Beach and San Luis Obispo, I surely could do this, and I guess that although it is relatively safe for its size, Seattle is not either of those places. Oh well, having some adrenaline pulse through my veins every once in a while is nice.
So, I continued canvasing the streets for a while, and saw the urban commando again; as he was crossing the street, i hear him shouting, yet whispering, "INCOMING, FROM THE LEFT." I saw some other interesting people too, and although they have sad lives, they are so interesting to me, their life being so different than anything I can realistically imagine...I wish i could spend a day or two following some of these people (not the meth-head lady).
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