well, a friend of mine, John (the one who lives in Columbus, OH, and is getting himself properly edu-mu-cated at Ohio State) founf this article about the "homeland" on some website:
SeaTac Uber Alles

I was so moved I sent the following to the author:

Okay, so I know it's an old article, but a friend of mine from across the country stumbled upon your essay (article?) about my hometown of SeaTac. Yep, I grew up there, and refer to the area as "The Homeland," Tukwila, Kent, Des Moines, Burien, I still know all the streets and nooks and crannies like the back of my hand, even though I fled for Seattle proper a couple years ago.

I'm an out of work who-the-fuck-knows what, and my 'rents, who still live in the "homestead," probably one of the nicer houses that graces the residential strip between the Airport and SouthCenter mall, recently took pity on me and had me "house-sit" while they road-tripped out to Colorado to visit my sister -- who chose to flee the state altogether.

I can't begin to describe the wave of melancholy that seemed to wash over me every time I was in the old neighborhood. The original plan to just live in the house for the two weeks was quickly dismissed after just one day. Not to say I didn�t want to be at my �rents house, it�s a lot nicer than my old rental house in Wallingford, but I guess that when I am home in Wallingford I feel like I�m Home because I�m Somewhere, I�m not Nowhere, like in SeaTac.

When I�d head down to tend to the chores about the house, I�d drag my old friend since kindergarten, Jon, along when I could. We always seemed to have the same discussion every time we�d take the SouthCenter I-5 exit and head up the hill to the house: �It wasn�t a Bad place to grow up� but I just don�t like coming back here.�

I don�t know of a better way to sum it up. I couldn�t, and still can�t, explain the melancholy, but I�ve attempted to contribute it to the �lost dreams� syndrome, that strikes people when they revisit the place of their childhood. It just seems like so much has gone unaccomplished in a life that seemed so full of possibility when I was younger. I began to wonder if perhaps it wasn�t also about regret over not having had a better place to grow up� but the grass is Always greener somewhere else.

I went to Tyee High School, class of �93, where I became involved in a tragicomic attempt to build an observatory on campus. It consumed a large part of my idyllic intellectual dreams from my sophomore year on. Our Science teacher, Mr. Levenhagen, poured his heart and soul into it. I still don�t know how it got built. It took two years for permits to come through, and even then changes were mandated almost without warning. Funding was ad-hoc, to say the least, most of the materials were donated, and worst of all, the effort never seemed to gain any real support from either the district or the school itself.

And that was just it. We were trying to do something Good, making an actual effort to improve one of the shittiest schools in the state, and even improve a shitty community, and we were almost mocked for it. Places like SeaTac are mired in mediocrity. It consumes the people, pervades the way everything is done. Life becomes about posing and posturing, because actual accomplishments are ignored.

I was a great student, but I had serious attitude problems, because I hated the school, I hated my fellow students, I hated the administration and some of the teachers, and inevitably I learned to hate myself because of it. All because of the mediocrity. I finished high school with a 3.6 GPA, including AP courses and being a year ahead of the mainstream in math and science, got scholarships to Western WA University, and I even made it to State in track in the 400m my senior year (which, along with the fact I was captain of the Cross Country team, meant I was one of the top athletes at the school, although no one gave a shit) and all Igot out of Tyee High school, and growing up in SeaTac, was learning how to hate myself.

Mr. Levenhagen retired a couple years ago. Immediately after that they condemned the Observatory. We never did get everything working right. Jon and I, who spent as much time as anyone except Levenhagen working on it, saw our dream go unfulfilled. I guess they did get it up to a limited capability a few years later, but it never became what it was meant to become. It�s all locked up now, apparently because it�s �not to code� or some bullshit. All it needs is a little money and time, which it will never get, because that poor god-damn building had the misfortune of being built in SeaTac.

I'm a little bit of a weather hypocrite, I'm realizing, because I spend so much time during the the long, dreary rainy season longing for these idyllic long sunny days of summer. In that regard I'm really no different than many Seattleites.

My Nordic blood prefers the cool, damp weather. I'm really a spring-fall guy. This overcast weather has been a god-send for me, I was growing very weary of the sun and the heat. I just don't like it when the ambient temp climbs above 80. Give me those cool, mid-60's, partly cloudy spring and fall days, with the sun peeking out from behind the clouds occasionally, or these overcast in the moring, sun by the late afternoon type deals.

So, I come to learn this evening, while watching the Late Show w/ David Letterman, that Michael Mann is returning to primtime TV, in the form of Robbery Homicide Division, starring none other than Tom Sizemore. Michael Mann is, of course, the genius behind Miami Vice -- only the most innovative show in prime-time network TV history -- and such movies as Last of the Mohicans (director), Heat (writer/director), and the Insider (writer/director). Tom Sizemore is seemingly required by law to appear in every war movie (most notably Saving Privat Ryan and Black Hawk Down) and/or "cops and robbers" type movie (most notably Heat). Maybe I'll have to check it out this September.

I am shocked and appalled with myself right now, and I'm making one of those promises to myself that I ptobably won't keep, but what the hell...

The state of the Ambig. Dis. Manifesto has deteriorated almost exponentially the last two months. First there was almost the entire month of June with hardly anything but my world Cup rantings, and then came a July where I have been quite busy for someone without a job.

The first real breakdown came when I didn't say Anything about Tyler and I climbing Mt Shasta the first weekend after the solstice. Great weather, and full moon, and couple snafu's to keep things interesting... a great time. Then there was my half-assed coverage of "Summerfest" at my 'rents house (from which I spent the whole next day "recovering") which involved uploading unedited pics of the festivites to the picture files section of the website. Ditto for the 4th celebration at Vicki's. The flight I took with Jon and his buddy only made POD, and the whole trip to Idaho went unmentioned.

I started doing that thing I do sometimes (and please tell me I'm not the only person who does it!) where I try to "inventory" my days, in this case going back to the begginning of the month, and decide where my life is going. What I have established is that my so called "journal," aka this web page, has really sucked lately. I hope to do better in the coming weeks.

the links below won't take you to mullet porn

I Am The 3rd Party: The Natural Law Party: You're a strange one, thats for sure. Calling yourself the party based on science, your most interesting claim to fame is a heavy reliance on yoga in your national policy. Ignoring your kooky side, you sometimes make a lot of sense. And your leader is probably the smartest cadidate out there. Too bad he's crazy. Find out what 3rd party you are!

My Favorite Female Part Is: The Breast: Firm, tight, and right in my face. And they jiggle when we have sex. Find out your favorite female body part!

I pushed back my jog around the lake today until after 9:00, given this wave of oppresive mid-western heat we are mired in. Except for the bugs, which seemed to particularly like the lakeshore after sunset on a hot day, and the gagging and or coughing induced by inhaling more of them than I care to know, it was a very enjoyable experience.

You have those moments in life where you just want to hit pause and soak it all up. You want to squeeze every last bit of living out of the siutation, then come back for more. It seems like too much of our lives are spent wondering where those moments are, and then when they come they are all too fleeting.

I ran around counterclockwise as twilight turned to darkness. The big, yellow, full moon rose up over the hill, throwing a brilliant reflection across the lake. There is just Something about a full moon, especially during the summer. Maybe it's the fact that our usually cloudy weather often doesn't let us enjoy it, or maybe it's that in the milder temps you can sit outside and just gaze. It made me want to go primitive, chucking the cares of worldly living and giving in to the animal inside.

When I finished my run, I stretched out on a dock by the rowing center, and one of Green lake's many waterfowl residents came swimmming by with her six ducklings. Okay, i'm just going to say it: Baby ducks are cute. There, call me a wuss, I don't care.