Who's Who at Knudsen Park

[Written on my iPhone notes app]

Today (5/11/16 2:00 pm) at Knudsen Park I've seen a hunky Latino reading a book on a bench, a couple younger men passing a joint on a bench, an older man in a blue linen blazer measuring the centerpiece tree, a woman enjoying a soda, a man laying on a bench in the shade, a guy with spiked hair and Egyptian looking eye tatts (only the line extensions were drawn downward vs. continued across the sides of the face on the outer eyes) wearing black backpack, red tee, shorts and heavy metal chain as a necklace riding a yellow and orange mountain bike, a woman with a hot pink head scarf wearing a black burka praying toward Mecca, three guys congregating, smoking weed behind me and just heard a woman ask them if they have a lighter (though I did not see her).

The sleeping man just awoke, he's wearing black pants, tee and leather jacket, has longer, shaggy hair and a beard-goatee combo. He's now smoking something and coughing a bit, now making a call and overheard saying something about a housing program. As Carlin says, homes are just places where we store our stuff. A heavy set woman with large breasts wearing long, brown hair, pants and eyewear frames in a tight white top just walked through the corner of the park on her phone. I've been on my phone quite a bit since I've been here, too.

A clean cut man wearing dark shades, a charcoal gray polo and light blue shorts just wandered in with his lunch and sat where the woman had been enjoying her soda. A short, heavyset woman just wandered in with her lunch and sat on the concrete barrier surrounding the base of the centerpiece tree. This park is situated in a circular formation with a ring of well manicured trees and benches surrounding a large, dark red leafed centerpiece tree that's much taller than anything else directly around it. Few places are more well manicured than this. I'd rather be nowhere else right this moment. It's a beautiful, warm, sunny and peaceful day in Seattle ...

As I was leaving a woman in a light blue plaid short sleeve top pushed her two sleeping toddlers in on a stroller toward the three congregated stoners who just disbanded. She is now seated next to the other woman on the centerpiece barrier. All you can hear are the swooshing of cars passing on the adjacent MLK Jr. Way arterial, maybe the occasional car stereo with windows down.

It's quieter in my counselor's waiting room, just the occasional commercial toilet flush or shuffle of feet on carpet along with an oddly low volume digital Emerson alarm clock radio playing Rush's Tom Sawyer with a sticky note next to it asking please not to turn it off. The woman who walked through the corner of the park on her phone just walked slowly through the waiting room reading her phone and quietly entered the door at the other end of the room. The station moved onto The Politics of Dancing and it's time for my appt.