if you must
Welcome back, you enthusiastically greet Mister Faded Glory.
Yes, it’s good to be back, he lies.
But nonetheless, the pilgrimage to Seattle was all things — fun, illuminating, relaxing, and refreshing. Instantly, the Emerald City (or Queen City, depending on who you ask) has become one of Mr. Faded Glory’s favorites. Rather than bore my loyal readers (yes, both of you) with tales of my trip, however, I’m checking in just briefly for now. The novel will be complete sometime next week, and I’ll resume a semiregular blogging schedule after that.
Above is a picture of one of two memorial benches in a small park nearly adjacent to Kurt Cobain’s former Seattle home and site of his suicide.
The shabby, scruffy park is memorialized with chicken and Sharpie scratches on its two benches. It exists somewhat — well, completely– off the beaten path, in an affluent area of Seattle. In fact, approaching the park is a surreal feeling. It’s readily apparent that the park stands for Kurt, it’s out of place. It’s a tiny, tattered lawn with ramshackle benches and few lush trees, residing in a wealthy, elaborate Seattle neighborhood. But it’s there. It’s barren. It’s dilapidated. It’s askew. It’s eerily quiet. And, it’s, forever, Kurt’s.
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