Jesus wept, but I've got photos

Decisions . . .

 I've been sick the last few days with what I'm assuming was/is the flu--more than once I found myself muttering to myself that before COVID, there was the influenza epidemic of 1919 and maybe I shouldn't keep saying it was "just the flu" that was troubling me. But I am feeling somewhat better now which means I am probably up to starting a new book. That I've been binging on re-reads of Louise Penny's "Gamache" novels says something about how unambitious I've been in my reading options of late. The world is a miserable thing, and some of us like to escape into fiction, okay?

 So pictured above are my options. It turns out that Sun House has a lot of weird typography and it weighs a ton (why was it printed on semi-gloss/slick paper?) so I'm leaning towards the impulse buy of the three: What Napoleon Could Not Do though maybe Democracy Awakening would be, as the Kirkus Review suggests, empowering?

Before the illness, I snapped a few shots of Halloween decorations around West Seattle. I'm not sure that the first one captures the full creepiness of the dolls, while the second was just darned amusing. 

This house always has some pretty creative stuff happening

I don't know--maybe this one only works in Seattle

I no longer remember what put me in Pioneer Square early one evening a few weeks ago, but the light was quite lovely, there was a jazz duet performing outside of an art gallery, and it just seemed such a fine place to be. In another case of the "cell phone snap didn't really capture it, but here it is anywhere," I present a Pioneer Square alley that apparently contains a bike repair shop I should check out:

Perhaps overadjusted photo of a picturesque alley that probably shouldn't be looked at too closely.

Continuing with the way-back machine, I was late with the fall equinox installation on the green man, but I insist it was worth the wait:

Meanwhile, a million people are supposed to shift themselves when they really have no place to go, so that their homes can be blown to pieces in some sort of show of god knows what. What the fuck, really.