mellow yellow...

.....or, rather, ECSTATIC yellow.

Having nothing to do with "yellow," the above photograph: Yet another fake sepia. This time, it's looking up at the corner of 21st and L Streets NW. The bare floors of the dead office building caught the afternoon light perfectly and resembled a huge, square ribcage...and the passing crow was a happy bonus. But what's all this "yellow" business?

I caught the metro this afternoon at Columbia Heights, heading downtown for an afternoon of freelance kicks at a local publishing house. The "kicks" were had, make no mistake...but what's THIS?!?!?

Ah yes... the much-reported Yellow Line extension has taken effect! It's a test program, I believe, so it's only effective during off-peak hours, but Great Freaking Ferret Cakes, Batman: Not facing a 15-minute wait for an in-bound Metro today was a pleasure unmatched by religion OR drugs...or any combination thereof.

So now, we in the 'Heights can take the Yellow all the way to friggin' National Airport if we wish--or, God forbid, Huntington. Off-peak hours, only. This, coupled with the smoking ban in DC bars & restaurants (which took effect at about the same time), have made our little corner of the cosmos even more pleasant than before.

Don't eat the shiny things

Another slow news week.

Still obsessing over the house hunt: We've received verbal acceptance of Offer no.2, and are currently bumbling about in a void of stagnant waiting. Put that "verbal acceptance" to paper and FAX IT, dadgarn it!

We sneer viciously at the apartment now, and the shadow of "finality" is all over it. It is doomed. We have seen the demise of The Apartment in our lives, and the building reeks of the expectation of death. If all goes well, we shall say FAREWELL to particle-board-and-veneer countertops, to linoleum, to the window-view onto a stale, lifeless parking lot...

In the meantime, the Agents of Weirdness were handing out some strange new specimen of Packaged Breakfast Food to commuters at the chinatown metro station (inset photo). Anything that comes in such shiny packages MUST be carcinogenic. At least mildly so.

Meanwhile, the Untouchable Fembots witness it all from the immaculate safety of the shop windows. Somehow, that shot looked more menacing in grayscale.

Through it all, I found the strength to avoid the gently carcinogenic shiny breakfast samples, and lived another day...

Be Where?

Alas, no inspired prose this time. A recent series of work-related deadlines has left me numb and lifeless in the world. To reflect this, I offer the above Public Health Warning, as etched by a concerned citizen at the Silver Spring Metro station. Beware. That's all... just..... beware.

Meanwhile, I'm looking forward to this Labor Day weekend's Progday in North Carolina. I'm not familiar with many of the bands on the bill, though I am fiercely interested in The Spacious Mind, who seem to be flying the SpaceRock banner as well as anyone. Other acts include Happy the Man, Mike Keneally, Glenn Phillips (founding member of Hampton Grease Band), Far Corner, and others... I'll be there with the camera & 2GB to fill. Expect a full report upon my return.

Until then, fellow Silver Springers, beware...

Catacombs of the Termite Queen

Union Station during a rare moment of calm...I'm not positive, but I'll wager DC's Metro stations tend to be photographed more often than subway systems in other cities.

I've ridden the thing since I was a wee lad, and they STILL resemble alien insectoid catacombs to me. And like thousands of other faithful drones, I ride the Termite Queen's abdomen every day & seldom take time to reflect on the weirdness of it all.