When we first got to Rialto Beach on the Olympic Penninsula, we couldn't see the ocean. I could just hear it. Everything was white. There was a cool salt mist, fog, bleached driftwood five logs deep, white sand, white water, white birds. I stood on the pebbly beach, a sea of evergreens behind me, and my head reeled. It was truly a foreign planet.

We camped on the beach and buried sweet potatoes in the sand next to the fire to cook them. Being ultramegaoutdoor boy, TB has an array of equipment worthy of an REI commercial, and we made rice pilaf over a tiny gas stove. The sweet potatoes didn't heat all the way through. But we took a total money shot using the Jiffy Pop package that will win us something or other -- I don't remember the prize but you have to take a photo of you using Jiffy Pop popcorn. It sounded like a brilliant idea -- entering -- but then I saw on the box it declares the product unsafe for campfires, which is where we prepared it. We are sadly not Jiffy Pop Spokesperson material.

Did I mention how ridiculously otherworldy beautiful the coast is here?

So despite my previous admission to being a total slacker updating because it's all beautiful out and I need to be running around, that was not the reason for my hiatus. I was knocked off my digital rocker when my previous web host unplugged the server in Boston and I was left with no web site and no place to put it back up. Guess what? I remedied the situation. No, seriously. I did.

Jamin is running away to Mexico! Can you believe that kid? He was my web host, but I guess leaving the country is as good an excuse as any to pull the plug on gratis tech support. I'm so excited about his move and upcoming travels -- I can't wait to see what he puts on film. He's an amazing photographer and Guadalajara is full of eye candy.

Jamin threw a going away/take-my-stuff party at our old residence in Somerville on Friday. It's weird to think about there being a party in "my house" while I'm not there. Take off your wet shoes! Use a coaster! No -- I just pictured it as it was for five years while I was there, even though it obviously doesn't look like that anymore (not even when I left in June). And I can't imagine anyone else living there. So much went down in that house. So much. But I don't miss it. I thought I would. I wake up once in a while and think I'm there for a few seconds. But then I wake up thinking I'm in a lot of places that I'm not.

And now the mythical Back East (as my Amish friend tells me, one begins to talk about the East Coast in that fashion -- like some lost continent from ages past that no one Out Here really cares about) has changed dramatically already, so if I were to Go Back, the place I'd land would be a different world than the one I left.

Which may be why I had a few nightmares last night involving moving against my will, getting lost, missing important buses, getting stranded places -- so many transportation woes but also in my dream making the decision to leave Seattle and then being like, "NO! I don't want to go!" In the end I realized it was my call whether to move or not, and I stayed in Seattle, and not just because I didn't have a sub-letter for my lease. Or because the bunny would have a certified nervous breakdown if I crammed him back in the carrier for another cross-country voyage.

Kobie is doing okay, thanks for asking. I mean, he's in one piece. Actually, two pieces, since he creates a new rabbit every time I pick him up with the mounds of fur he's shedding. He's getting his autumn coat. Seal-point amber is tres chic this fall. He looks runway fabulous. But last night I startled him and he uncharacteristically planted himself under the kitchen cabinet so he had to be chased out with a broom.

Okay so I've been on a thousand adventures since I last updated, and I have so many gorgeous photographs that I need to post. I'm going to post them, and I'm not sure the best way to do it because there's so many. I think eventually I'm going to get myself a photo-album type application but in the mean time, bear with me. It was difficult enough sorting out the head-warping technology involved in moving domains and servers and yadda -- it's all over my head. That's why I keep cute boys around who know how to do this sort of thing.

I had to actually pay for hosting for this site now, which pissed me off for a minute or two. I was actually thinking about putting a PayPal button up so you can all pledge online donations and guarantee the continued existence of this site, as I've seen many other writers do. But that's tacky. (Please just send checks or money orders to: 629 1/2 12th Ave East, Apt A, Seattle, WA 98102.)

Geez looez, do I miss you guys. Big hug. More to follow.

Oh and also please go get all albums by Gomez. They're my new favorite band this week.

I found out Davíd was playing the Green Room unannounced and best part: free! and so off it was. The Green Room had a smashing hummus plate -- smashing in that it was huge and had a veritable cornucopia of vegetables, but c'mon with the black olives. I mean, Lindsay olives on a hummus plate. Hi kids, ever heard of kalamata? What are these people thinking?

In any case, here's little Davíd (dah-VEED he insists) with his organ and a slew of guitars that a friend of his had apparently scored for the afternoon since they still had price tags on them. Actually -- I may have made that up. We were joking about it, and now I can't remember if it's actually true about the price tags. Either way, the walnut Gretsch was to die for, and obviously not his, and he had one of those organs from basements in the Seventies featuring stunning pre-recorded beats such as Bossa Nova and Samba. Like a little kid, he sat down at the organ and started flipping switches, finding new sounds and messing around like we weren't even there.

The crowd was small, maybe 40 people, probably because the show wasn't advertised. It was a last minute thing he set up because he was playing an in-store performance at a record store in Ballard, of all places. But he told us from the beginning that he was going to be driving all night so not to buy him tequila, but that if anyone wanted to buy him some red wine, that would be fantastic. Twelve bottles later, he was aboslutey slammered, telling wacko stories and playing songs about a cat named Neva who lived in a pecan farm and an ousted Father from California who got his hands on some little kiddies. He played the crowd pleasers, too -- "Discoball World" being my favorite, and "Slave" and "Kinder" -- the good stuff from This Euphoria. By the end he was getting experimental and highly random ("Art cloud! know what I'm talking about?") and I was getting cranky, but it was one of the more entertaining shows I've been to in a while.

Minus the violently irritating talkers -- no, in fact, YELLERS seated six inches away from me, one of them my favorite breed of small blond chick. I snarled audibly but decided not to start any fights. Yanking ponytails during anti-war songs would just seem so... unpatriotic.

Had much more to write about but these lunch breaks are getting shorter and shorter and I don't know who the hell my neighbors think they are, but they went and put passwords all over their wi-fi networks and I can't leech off their high speed internet connections and get online from home anymore. Do you believe these people?

The nerve. Free wireless internet is a Godgiven right.

Well, for me.