A celebration of writing and riding
On Monday, November 10th, 4Culture will host a launch party for Poetry on Buses 2014. There will be music and live readings by 36 local poets. See you there?
Hear My Bus a Comin'
On Monday, November 19th, at 11:10 AM there will be an unveiling of the bus shelter honoring Seattle's own Jimi Hendrix. The shelter is at 23rd & Massachusetts (in front of NAAM), which is roughly half a block west of Jimi Hendrix Park.
In the Bus Bag
My People Are Rising, by Aaron Dixon
Tag Archives: Miranda
Tuesday, Eastbound 5th & Jackson stop, 8:40 PM
Fellow TAC‘er Miranda and I are discussing the future of transit in the region while waiting for our respective buses (me: 14, her: 36) home from the August meeting. A man approaches and asks if we can spare 50 cents. He has to get to the shelter by nine.
“And,” he adds, scratching his nether parts for emphasis, “I’ve got a rash.”
Wednesday, Westbound 23rd & Jackson stop, 5:00 PM
Chicklet and I are awaiting the 14, headed downtown to catch the 55 to my youngest brother‘s birthday …
I do OK with cute and comfortable footwear (though not as well as my girl Miranda) until it’s time to really dress. I’m not big on “wear a pair, carry a pair,” so on occasions that call for high heels, I usually just choose the pair that goes best with the outfit and resign myself to a few hours of suffering.* Fortunately for me, those occasions only occur a few times a month. For those of you who must wear dressy shoes on a regular basis, some hopeful news:
Over the weekend, my friend Char (not coincidentally, a newly …
I have many, many pairs of shoes. This is not because I buy a lot of shoes. (In fact, I can’t remember the last time I shopped for footwear.) It is because my mother, the most stylish woman I have ever known, bought a lot of shoes, and when she tired of them, she handed them down to me. Many of these shoes I have given away, but some are too beautiful to part with. I wear them a couple of times a year, on special occasions, but most of the time, they sit in my closet, passed up …