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Hearing From YOU: Nathan and Dori Gillam at Redmond Library, Part 4 of 4 (Online)

10/18/2020

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Let’s talk about what this is. Who’s Dori Gillam? What’s this about a 4th event? What have I missed out on already?

The official title is "Discussing The Lines That Make Us: Stories From Nathan's Bus: Session 2.” Isn’t that hot? Did you ever hear of a more exciting, juicy event title that definitely didn’t sound like a business conference? Me neither. While no one will mistake that mouthful for the latest Katy Perry tour, I like to think it’ll still be fun.

There were tons of people at the first two events, but this is the one you really want to check out. The ending is always the best part, and I’ve had a great run at Redmond Library this past summer. The Friends of the Redmond Library and City of Redmond have sponsored such a bevy of events throughout– interviews with me about specific chapters of the book, a repeat of my MOHAI lecture about cell phones and loneliness, last week’s “gettin-to-know-ya” personal author talk (thanks for making that such a total smash! I'm still blown away), and yesterday’s group discussion with Dori and I.

What I want to emphasize about this last event is that it’s an opportunity to participate. We spend a lot of time consuming media, especially during these times of withdrawal, and it feels good to stretch the other muscle: not just receiving thoughts but putting them forth, reaching out, an exchange of thought rather than the ol’ one-way transmission of passive consumption. Have a thought about my book? Does it call to mind events or opinions or questions you’d like to share? 

Well, this is the event. Dori is a superstar facilitator who’s guided hundreds of group discussions, and you feel safe in her hands. There’s an art to it, and she’s got it. I wouldn’t know where to begin, but she can make something as sterile as a Zoom meeting feel like a comfy living room roundtable.

You can come to this discussion with nothing to say, thinking you’ll just listen, but you’ll find yourself wanting to chime in, and we’d all love to hear from you. I'd love to hear from you. I’ve spent enough time blabbing at events over the summer, and I want to hear your thoughts. Have you read my book, or blog? Perfect. What you have to share in response is just as valuable. If you haven’t read the book, that’s fine too; you’ve probably crossed paths with me, virtually or otherwise, and know that I value community and kindness. Maybe it’s something you have stories about, or something you struggle with. Either way, talking about it will feel good! This is what Thursday nights during COVID are for!

You need a KCLS library card. Register for the event here; you’ll notice some fun “task” suggestions down below. They’re not requirements, but they might make for interesting conversation if you do end up doing them! Let’s talk about all this and more Thursday!

​Peruse earlier videos of me and the book from this past summer here, courtesy of Redmond Library. 
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It's About Who's Around

10/10/2020

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“Is that mah boy?”
“Jooohn! What’s goin’ on! Been a long time!”

In the days of coronavirus, pleasantries have to be yelled. John had entered through the middle door and now stood right by it, just behind the velcro strap encouraging passengers to keep distance from the operator.

We went on like that for a bit, catching up. But right in the middle of it he hit me with the news:

"Hey I just got outta th' hospital. I got cancer, man."
"Cancer, that’s terrible! John!"
"Yeah, I got cancer.” He said it as though he was trying out the phrase, testing out its truth, seeing how it molded to his reality. Do you remember the early days of your tragedies, when there seemed a chance they might not be true?
“I got cancer. They said I drink too much.”

He ducked under the velcro strap, carefully, to come closer. The last time someone did that I got spat on. But you have to remember that’s not everyone. These lives out here have nothing to do with each other. One night someone will scare you, and the next night another man who looks the same, talks the same, dresses the same (and, depending on which corner of 3rd and Pike you’re at, smells the same)– will help you when no one else will. Keep this in the back of your head: If someone saves your life, that person will probably be homeless.

But back to John, the 40-something Latino man and fixture on Rainier whom readers of my book will recognize. From one angle, he was another alcoholic breaking the rules on a Wednesday night. For me, he was a friend with whom I shared a history, from whom my life was richer.
“Yeah man,” he said, “I weigh 140 pounds. I used to be 235.”
“Oh, no. One forty? That’s what I weigh! One forty, 145…”
“Yeah, doctor said I only got two months to live.”
“What? John, this is heavy! Two months?! That cancer’s no joke.”
“Yeah they said two months.”

I was so glad he came up. He came closer because you can’t be sensitive from far away. What do you say to two months left to live? I was taught to think before speaking and usually do, but in this moment my body led the charge. My soul cut in, interrupting with the only words that could work, with a verve I was surprised by.

“Two months? Man, you' be around longer than that.”

It’s a feeling more than a thought, and that sub-liminal part of me spoke now with enormous confidence, and complete belief in itself. I, who knows cancer kills people, who knows the very concept of “beating cancer” is nothing but cruel advertising, that cancer always comes back, that it tears you up, that trying to do anything about it tears you up too– that me somehow believed itself when it said,

“You got this.”
“I’m gonna beat it.”
“You are gonna beat it.”

I believe hope in the face of certain failure is still beautiful. I do not know why this is.

“I’m gonna beat it. Doctor said two months, ah say no way. Fuck that.”
“Two months, more like two decades!”
“I’m gonna beat that cancer.”
“You been through tougher stuff than this.”
“Tha’s right.”
“I’ma be pickin’ you up ten years from now, just like I was ten years ago.”

As soon as we had made our own glow, it dissipated. Reality set in, and I was thankful he could share its weight with me.

John the tough guy. The boisterous. The fighter. Comic. Man. John stared into the middle distance, stared forward the way only a passenger on a vehicle can. He said, “I’m sad, man. It’s sad.”
“It is sad.”
“I was 235 pounds. Now I’m 140.”
“That’s crazy.”
“They’re givin’ me liquid morphine. They give me a bottle a week.”
“Man, I bet you can’t feel anything.”
“Nothin,’ man. I only got two months left. They kicked me outta my apartment.”
“Man, that’s heavy. I’m sorry, dude. Now’s the time to hang out with good people. See your family, you know? Maybe you’ll beat it, but either way, you wanna have good people around you. You still see Valerie?”

He was lost in thought. “I stay behind that church there. Hey listen Nate, I hate havin’ to ask you like this, but could you spot me any change? Get somethin’ to–“
“Aw man, you know I don’t carry money when I’m workin’.”
“I know, It’s cool. Hey man, it’s always good to see you. I’ma get out right here.” He cracked a grin– “Don’t cut your hair! And stop beatin’ people up!”

There was an echo in his tone, the enthusiasm you put forth with great effort in those final moments, covering up the realization that you might never see your listener again. That was how he spoke now. He’d decided humor was the note to end on.

Good man.

---

An hour later I would see him, though, with Valerie (read my book for more) at his side. More than once during the ride she’d tell me it’s always good to see me. Finality had crept into our interactions. It encourages sincerity, goodness, truth. She helped John as he moved, slowly, slurringly (“I’m not gon’ lie, Nate, I’m drunk right now!”), down the aisle with a tender gait as never before. I thought of the sillier times: him coming up to the door of my bus one afternoon and stopping in mock fright, proclaiming, “Nathan! Who did that to your hair??”
“I know, I know, I had to get it cut! It was gettin’ outta control!”
“You tell me who did that and I’ll send ‘em straight to Jesus!!”
I laughed. He’d said, “You gotta get those curls back, bro, like mine. We’re like twins. Oh hey, I saw you walking the other day. You know how to walk?!”
“Ha!”

Tonight he was moving slower, but he was still John. They sat in the middle of the bus and struck up conversation with two friendly compatriots and a dog. I couldn’t hear them, but their arms and smiles said it all– gestures of togetherness among strangers, dog stories, travelling stories, communion found in exchanging the breeze. I marvelled at Valerie and John’s stalwart presence in each other’s lives, particularly now as they faced the finish line. A kindness in their camaraderie tonight.

In the last days things will not be perfect. There will be pain, shame, unfulfilled dreams. Your favorite people won’t all be there. But that’s okay. It’s not about that.

It’s about whoever happens to be around.

Have a good time with them. They’ll bring you up. We all have more in common than we don’t. Wave your arms in the air like John is now, telling another story, listening and laughing, making the most of the in-between moments; a post-sunset bus ride on a forgotten weekday, spent in the good company of strangers and friends.

That’s what living is.

---

More with John here and here.
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Nathan Online Talk at Redmond Library: OMG Nathan Gets Personal!

10/4/2020

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Last month's Zoom lecture, the first of these four events, was a hit, and I have you all to thank for making it so. I'm so grateful you guys stopped in on a Saturday afternoon! Almost like there was a pandemic outside or something...

These next two talks take place in short succession, and you're of course welcome to check out either or both. As before, they're online, through Zoom, put on by Redmond Library. All you need is a KCLS library card and a Zoom account to register. It's free!

2. Meet the Author– Nathan Vass
Ask me anything! Talk about everything! I try to have each of my book talks focus on something different, to keep things interesting if you've been to one of these before; I promise to do the same here! I worked at Redmond Library as a youngster, so the focus here will be of the 'gettin-to-know-you' personal story variety.
Thursday, October 15, 2020
7:00PM
– 8:30PM
Register and more here!

3. Discussing the Lines That Make Us: Stories From Nathan's Bus: Session 1
Diving deeper with facilitator (and author!) Dori Gilliam. We'll tackle some of the probing questions the book brings up about reaching out, and what that means today.
Saturday, October 17, 2020
2:00PM
– 4:00PM
Register and more here.

In the meantime, more "Nathan at Redmond Library" stuff here! Video interviews with me about chapters of my book, why I wrote the book period, and more!
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Nathan on Youth Communication: Redmond Library Online Event 1 of 4

9/19/2020

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These were going to be in-person events. Now you get to wear your jammies to them. Isn't that great? 

As you may know, my book, The Lines That Make Us, was chosen as the sole title for the Summer Reading Program put on by Redmond Library, the City of Redmond, and Microsoft. We're finally closing in on the end of summer, where we cap things off with four author events; this is the first.

On Saturday, 9/26 at 2 PM Pacific Time, I'll be giving a lecture called When We Become Islands– How Advancements in Communication Have Made Us Lonely People.

It's all about what young people don't know they're missing out on when they go out of their way to avoid talking to people, and some pretty compelling new research on what happens as a result... as well as some surprisingly easy solutions for moving forward together. IMPORTANT: This is the same speech I gave in February at MOHAI (image from that event above). It was a smash over there, and I can't wait to give it again. If you were there, you'd be forgiven for sitting this one out, or else throwing it on intermittently under the occasional cat video.

But if you missed it, now's your chance!

Saturday, September 26, 2020
2:00PM – 4:00PM

Register for the event (and more details) here!

Info on the other 3 events here.
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Redmond Library presents: Nathan answers questions about his stories

9/8/2020

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As you may know and detailed here, my book is the sole title for this year's Summer Reading Program as brought to you by the City of Redmond, Microsoft, and the Redmond Library. They've been interviewing me on various stories in my book, in videos which you can watch here. There's a lot of further info about the city's program with the book in that link as well, and the content on there is continually updated.

Thanks, Redmond, for reading and sharing. If you have questions or comments about my book, please ask them in the comments below! Otherwise, I'll see you for a series of exciting upcoming online events this September and October! Details here!
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Men I Trust, as Reviewed by Film Threat, UK Film Review, and Indy Reviews

9/5/2020

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"A touching story about grief and loss... does a fantastic job getting right to the issues of life, death, and legacy."
-Alan Ng, Film Threat (click here for full review)

"Sophisticated... a very accomplished piece of filmmaking and storytelling."
-Chris Buick, UK Film Review (click here for full review)

"Supported by excellent writing, cinematography and an impeccable cast, Men I Trust is a beautiful homage to life and love itself."
-Olivia Ballington, Indy Reviews (click here for full review)

I blush, reader. It's not out of any desire to alter your estimation of me that I share these, but that in doing so these reviews might shine more light on the excellent work done by all the artists who contributed to the film. Every word of praise sent their way– to the actors, camera, sound, technicians, extras and more– is deserved. Bravo Eleanor, Marty, Meagan, Seth, Brian, Daniel, and all the rest. The text layout of the poster above is accurate– it really is a film not just by me but all of those names, who got up early, memorized lines, worked for less, and went the extra mile.

Thanks also to the reviewers, particularly Ms. Ballington for her in-depth appraisal. Read/watch/learn more about Men I Trust at its official page, here.

Stay tuned for more!
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Nathan on Seattle's Waterfront: Before and After

9/4/2020

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Painting by Laura Hamje. Photograph by Nathan Vass.

I was honored to be asked to write two pieces on Seattle's waterfront for Laura Hamje's art book, discussed by me here and available for purchase here (9/5 book launch details here!). Only one piece made it into the book, however, and in edited form at that; I wanted to share the original pieces with you, not to upstage the wonderfully curated book but to compliment it. As I know all too well, authors never get to squeeze everything they want into published books. Thank goodness for the internet.

The first reads as an elegy of sorts, and articulating those pangs of longing was easy for me; the piece practically wrote itself. But I most appreciate being tasked with writing the second one, even if it never made it into the book. It was a test, in the sense of: dare yourself to see the positive in losing of past. Dare yourself to think on a broader scale, to understand time on a plane beyond the personal. This is a healing perspective, and a skill we could all benefit from honing, myself most of all. Life is not merely a series of ever-escalating losses, as is so tempting to think in our worst moments; but something calmer, deeper, more renewable. Read on.


Eternity

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It is easy to forget that objects outlast loved ones.

They live longer than people, and carry with them the bodied memories of a thousand ordinary days, the days when that person still wandered about the house, called you, whisper-chuckled in your ears. Objects stick around, long after your spouse, parent, whomever– has drifted out of your life, a casualty of death and time. You look at things differently now. Cheap chinaware, from when your family spoke another language. Your child's drawings. They comfort us, objects do, defying mortality and proving real our memories.

It is a bizarre thing to outlive an object.

To witness the destruction and sudden absence of this massive, city-defining edifice is to be unmoored. We are as children who have lost our ancient tree, the old church or schoolyard... Things seen against the sky, which fulfilled all our definitions for what is everlasting.

This is what the Viaduct was for those of us who were there. With shadows and stone it reminded us of what used to be obvious, felt and known: Seattle was a frontier town, built from earth and industry and fire, by hard men and resilient women redolent with the grit-grime texture of a life you could actually touch. You felt their pioneer spirit when you drove on a structure you knew might collapse at any moment, negotiated its awkward merges or stumbled about in awe beneath its roaring and cavernous underbellies. For the price of bus fare, anyone and their aunt Martha could have the best view of both the Sound and the skyline at the drop of a hat. That will never be true again.

There is a look in the eye of every Seattleite who knew the city pre-Amazon. We don't need to explain it to each other, and it's invisible to everyone else. We have outlived the objects that gave us an anchor in our own home.
Do you know what that feels like?

At the close of every long day, and the start of each fresh one, in the sweet halfway house between dreams and waking life, we forget what's happened and remember the Seattle that made Seattle, the concrete, evergreen, Japanese, two-story, lumberjack fisherman rail-tie Boeing that was Seattle. We see it as if it's still right outside, all connected by the great Viaduct, that monolith that defined us, an engineering marvel for which we were rightly proud, which we praised and loved to lament.

For just a moment, the memory feels so possible. You can almost touch it, the past you learned too late to treasure. Another cloudy morning on the upper level, car windows down, feeling that stiff saltwater breeze blast you just the way you like it, enjoying the mighty din of freeway traffic, the only manmade sound that contains all of human life.
We were there.


So Now Then
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Will we forget it was once there? Or will we slowly rebirth what we used to feel, attaching a growing sacredness to as-yet unconstructed beltways and parks?

This is what we have to do, as humans. It is how we complete the world, give a name and face to history. On a long enough timeline we begin to understand– it isn't the structure itself, nor its peculiarities, but rather what those specifics do for us. In the stories we live out, the emotions and comforts of what we’ve known, we take solace.

Knowing the Viaduct is now a pleasant citywide secret, a melancholic pastime that allows us to prove we existed. We take pride in our memories, recognizing the heft they afford, never mind whether bright or sad. We seek dimension.

For this we will take our families and lovers to the new greenbelt, dine with our colleagues and wander the virgin sidewalks amid the silent echo of earlier times, hoping to convince ourselves that though the worlds we traverse may now have shorter lifespans than our own, we can at least outwit the rushing pace of things by making memories which hold still.

We Seattleites today walk beneath now-absent structures in reflection. Why the headlong rush to rebuild? American cities are unique in their allergy to the past. We strenuously work to hide the existence of time, of history, because time proves death. Do-overs absolve us of the pain of preserving, because it is easier to replace than to treasure.

The Viaduct taught us, among other things, to enjoy the journey as destination. Who didn’t covertly marvel at the sunswept magic hour of afternoon stop-and-go, a reason to be thankful our city faces west? The newfound absence and the slow, rumbling process of development extrapolate that notion into life; we are reminded that the only true constant is a state of flux.

The waterfront, and the city at large, like all cities, will never be complete. We yearn for finality and steady states because we are all of us young, all of us here living life for the very first time. It is simpler to mourn what we knew than embrace the strangeness of new worlds.

But someday we'll be able to find peace in what we already know: that the fullest, most complete expression of existence is in this unfinished birthing we walk through today, cranes and tubes and signage, a half-laundered wasteland of scaffolding and civic dreams, the most perfect metaphor for the definition of Being:

The act of Ever Becoming.

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Redmond Library Brings You: Nathan in 4 Helpings!

8/28/2020

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These events require no commute... because they're all online! How delightful. Grab a pair of jammies and another coffee and log in to Zoom for any of these 4 fun gatherings put on by the City of Redmond, Microsoft, and the Redmond Library as the culmination of their "One Book, One Summer, One Redmond" summer reading program. They've thrown together a roster of events I couldn't be more excited to be headlining, with a flavor for every angle on my book and its themes. Here's a breakdown:

These are, of course, all free. You don't even have to get off your sofa. Take your pick, or come to them all! If you've never had a chance to make it to any of my talks, they'll never be an easier time; check in for an hour, or maybe just a minute! Hope to see your smiling faces!!

1.
When We Become Islands– How Advancements in Communication Have Made Us Lonely People
NOTE: This is the same speech I gave in February at MOHAI (image from that event above). It was a smash over there, and I can't wait to give it again. If you missed it, now's your chance!

Saturday, September 26, 2020
2:00PM – 4:00PM
Register and more here.


2. Meet the Author– Nathan Vass
Q&A, Discussion, Story readings. I try to have each of my book talks focus on something different, to keep things interesting if you've been to one of these before; I promise to do the same here!
Thursday, October 15, 2020
7:00PM – 8:30PM
Register and more here!

3. Discussing the Lines That Make Us: Stories From Nathan's Bus: Session 1
Diving deeper with facilitator (and author!) Dori Gilliam. We'll tackle some of the probing questions
the book brings up about reaching out, and what that means today.
Saturday, October 17, 2020
2:00PM – 4:00PM
Register and more here.


4. Discussing the Lines That Make Us: Stories From Nathan's Bus: Session 2
Further deep diving with Dori and I. There's always more to discuss when it comes to community and stewardship in urban spaces.

Thursday, October 22, 2020
7:00PM – 8:30PM
Register and more here.

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International Examiner Interview (Plus a word to my fellow Hapas!)

8/27/2020

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As an Asian-American, I'm particularly excited to be inducted into the annals of this excellent publication. Sharing pages alongside 김 진아, Fumiko Kimura and the Maruki Hiroshima Panels is a big deal to me. My being a person of color plays a sizable role in my interactions on the road, but rarely warrants a mention in the more affluent circles of art, publishing and filmmaking through which I move in my off hours. One day I'll have the perspective to write intelligently about it, as Seattle jazz giant Chris Icasiano (and childhood friend of mine) does here, or as fellow Korean-American singer Michelle Zauner does in her hauntingly insightful New Yorker essay, "Crying in H-Mart." For now I'll simply acknowledge my gratitude at being included in the publication, and offer a note to my fellow Hapas:

Multiracialism is usually discussed in negative contexts. Having an invisible culture, being rejected by both your cultures, being mistaken or slighted or ignored and so on. Without taking away from the validity of those points, I'd like to add how much it has benefited my experience in a positive way.

In belonging to no single culture and being actively rejected as a member of Korean culture, I've lived for so long with the sensation that I belong instead to all cultures. To a universal human culture. I feel belonging to no single tribe, but to the collective all of them. I imagine this plays a larger role than I'll ever know in my interactions with the folks. People consistently think I'm "half-whatever they are," in the sense that Dwayne Johnson's universal appeal mostly to do with his welcoming attitude on top of the fact that nobody can tell what his heritage is... Yes, you may feel invisible and I don't blame you, especially in the shadows of this city's history of internment; especially in the exclusionary derision in which various Korean staff laugh me out of the building when I speak my own family's language– with a perfect accent, no less– with them. You've felt such things too, I'm sure, and probably privately. These are not moments which get discussed, and they can fester, not least because the first rule of Asian-American identity isn't that you don't talk about it, but that no one else does, which usually– and ultimately– means you don't either.

But let's remember what is also true.

You have something tangibly in common with a much larger swath of humanity. This cab driver, that software developer, this dishwasher, that nurse, that ophthalmologist, gas station attendant, operator... You share the Asian immigrant tendency toward hard work, toward unglamorous working-class surfaces and humble rooms and faded family photos from far away, unused languages, formative traditions no one around you knows about... These are the echoing textures of your family's experience and an enormous host of people of all colors, white included.

We all have more in common than we don't. I'm not qualified to be an expert on these subjects, but I can certainly speak for myself: perspectives that involve divisions and otherizing tend to hurt, and outlooks that involve coming together always help. When was tribalism ever a healthy solution? Let's think of where we overlap. I wouldn't be where I am without the sneaking sensation of comfort that comes from this very  loneliness, which only you know about. You are an island with no harbor, sure. But you also have something in common with every harbor. Every island. You've got nothing... and everything, in a way no one else can lay claim to. You are not invisible, and as time passes you will only continue to be less so.

A big thank you to Roxanne, Jill, Alan, Tom and all the others who put this together. Pick up a copy, or click the link below!

INTERVIEW (text): "Positive energy has an interesting way of building on itself,” says Nathan Vass, artist, writer and route 7 Metro bus driver

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On Laura's Book

8/25/2020

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Maybe you were there, this past February (before the world ended and began again). We were at MOHAI, in a room which won't be that packed full for a long time again. I was giving a talk with a surprise perspective on my bus life– how younger generations choose (not) to communicate, and how that affects them.

So why did I suddenly interject the proceedings with the eulogy of the Alaskan Way Viaduct? A friend would tell me afterward, "I liked everything. I even liked the graphs. I loved the graphs. But I don't see how the Viaduct thing fit in at all!"

I was reminded of a reading I once did at the Phinney Neighborhood Center, for their annual Bookfest event. I went with a plan: this was the story I was going to read. The Death story. The thematic climax of my book, the heaviest story and for me and the most resonant. But I had misread the room. This was a holiday bookselling festival. You were supposed to have a good time, joking with Garth Stein and trying out the book-cover cookies. Watch me biff the situation here.

Can I help it if Loss moves me more than laughter? If my way of finding the light involves staring death down, wrestling with the heaviest of thoughts to get through them, rather than looking the other way?

I felt foolish afterwards at Phinney; I should've chosen a funny story. I've certainly written plenty, and love surfing the wave of joy with a crowd. But that's not what drives me.

As a generation– and I'm referring to all of us alive today– we are unique in being forced to contend with a level of change most epochs don't have to experience. The lion's share of human history doesn't involve moments where you can't recognize the world you lived in ten years ago, let alone thirty, let alone that of your parents. For ninety percent of human history, you couldn't tell the difference between your time and a century earlier or later. The human organism is accustomed to being outlasted by objects, ideas, and surroundings. The multitude of rug-pulling change underway these decades is not natural to our souls, and the older spirits among us don't need further explanation to agree.

The elimination of the Viaduct represents for me a symbol of all that, and more: it was the last mega-sized vestige of the city we called Seattle. That was the word we used for a century and change, and though we may live at the same addresses now, today's New Money feels nearly as dismissive and different from its predecessors as Seattle was from the natives it so unfairly wrested land from. Or, as a passenger recently told me: "I done seen Seattle. And this shooooowww' ain't it!"

The book I mentioned in my MOHAI lecture, a collection of paintings by my fellow friend and artist Laura Hamje, has finally come to fruition. I'm featured within it as part of a collection of writings about the Viaduct and what its absence means. But even if I wasn't in its pages I'd still be stumping for her book, because it's really about the paintings; don't go to her September 5th reception event because of me, but for the remarkable quality of her work. Do I need to mention every single painting she did for her 2019 show, 53 Views of the Alaskan Way Viaduct, upon which this book is based, sold? Every last one? Or that, more importantly, they contain a beauty of perspective we can all learn from: a melancholic acceptance and peace with the forward flow of existence, as spoken by her elegiac compositions and somehow strangely appropriate energy, richness, color and verve of her brushwork... with art comes the calmness of new insight.

Death is the motivating engine not of death, but of Life. It allows creation. It is all growth, it is all forward, upward, nearer to understanding. In the Viaduct is a fuller comprehension of who we are, who we'll always and ever be: Works in progress.

You've been wanting to get out of the house. Perhaps now's the time.

---

Book signing event for Laura's book on September 5, 2020 from 1pm - 4pm outside Arundel Books: 212 1st Ave S, Seattle, WA 98104. Prints of the paintings will also be available.

Linda Hodges Gallery will be showing the new paintings from the book in their upstairs space, Sept 3 - 26, 2020, just one block south of Arundel Books: 316 1st Ave S Seattle WA 98104 (Gallery Hours: Tuesday - Saturday, 10:30 am to 5:00 pm).

More on the book itself here. Further details on the event here.

---

Watch my February MOHAI lecture here.

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    -You can find me on the Great 7/49, in the evenings.

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    -For New Bus Drivers: Thoughts, Tips, and Stories
    -How to Drive the 7: The Complete Care Package

    Popular posts:

    Only have time for one story? Try these. 
    -The Day The Earth Stood Still
    -Le Park de Cal Anderson
    -
    21st Century Man
    -One Last Story (Video)
    ​
    -Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About the Great & Terrible 358
    -I'M A LIGHT-SKINNED BLACK WOMAN!
    -The Final Flurry: Index
    ​
    -Scroll down on this sidebar to "On the Street," below, for more highlights~

    Personal:
    -International Examiner Interview (Plus a word to my fellow Hapas!)
    -Surviving the Social Desert: Nathan on High School
    -With What Time We Have
    -My Seattle
    -On Second Acts
    -Yves Klein, Color of the Heavens
    ​
    ​-Popular Posts from 2018, with Commentary
    -Nathan Vass, 2019 Washington State Book Award Finalist
    -Nathan on the Elliott Bay event: Parts I, II, and III
    -Seattle Magazine / Third & Cherry
    -Pretty Sure I Don't Deserve This
    -How I Live Now
    -Escaping the Overlords: Nathan on Comcast
    ​
    -I Am Now Ten Years Old
    -Confession
    -Flowers in a Pool of Blood: Thoughts From an American in Paris
    -Paris, One Year Later: A Personal Perspective
    -The Transgender Ban
    -Nathan on the Las Vegas shootings: On Terror & Other Things
    ​
    -The Birthday That Almost Never Happened
    ​
    -Nathan Takes a Day Off:
    Part 1 (See Nathan Run);
    Part 2 (Nathan Gets Excited); 
    Part 3 (Nathan Sounds Like Morgan Freeman)
    -Rad(iation) City
    -La La Land & What Los Angeles Means
    -Reparations
    -Names Nathan gets called! A list in three parts: 1, 2, 3
    -Where and How it All Began
    -How I Write the Posts, and Why
    -Chaleur Humaine
    -A Story
    -What Not to Say​
    -In Praise of Silver Hair
    -You're Been a Good Friend of Mine
    -...And a Splendid New Year!
    -Nathan Converses With His Colleagues: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8... and 65

    Political:
    -What's In a Number (Trump's legacy)
    -Praise Island (Biden's win)
    -The United States of Floyd
    -The Great Male Detoxification Project
    -The Day the Music Died
    -Kindness In the Days of After
    -Understanding Love & Hate During Trump Nation
    -More than Health, More than Money
    -Seattle, Center of the Modern Universe
    ​
    ​-What We Did, Today
    -This Story Has Nothing to do With Donald Trump
    -Don't Be Scared of My Friends, Part I
    -Don't Be Scared of My Friends, Part II
    -The Music Isn't Dead (Yet)
    -Nathan Actually Talks Politics, Pt III: Keeping the Music Alive
    -Pulling Our Weight, Part II: Addressing the Homeless Laziness Question
    -Getting Some Diversity Off My Chest
    ​
    -The Veterans
    -Islamofriendia
    -Be at Peace, Mr. Garner. We Will Love the World For You
    -The Streets Regard Ferguson
    -How do You Change the World? Thoughts on Violence
    -Cowboys of the New Age: Status & Respect in the American Ghetto
    -A Boy Named Hamza: Thoughts on Hate in Three Parts 
    -It Used to Sound Like This

    ​On film & art:
    -On Laura's Book
    -Nathan on Seattle's Waterfront: Before and After
    ​-Nathan's Films of 2019: Top 2 Plus 23 Runners Up (photos, trailers, analysis & more)
    -Once Upon a Time... in Dreams: On Tarantino, Violence, and Transcendence
    -On Finishing Men I Trust
    -The Lie & How to See It: On Hate, Despair & Hope in Contemporary Film
    -
    Notre Thoughts
    -Addressing Despair: Nathan on First Reformed
    -How Evergreen Became Irrelevant
    -October 2018 show breakdown: all the deets 
    -On Color Darkrooms
    -The Non-Bailers: Thank You to the Cast & Crew of Men I Trust, Pt I
    -People I Trust: Thanks to My Cast and Crew, Pt 2
    -Nathan's Overlooked Films of 2016: Trailers, photos, analyses
    -A Bus Driver Reviews the New Bus Driver Movie! 
    -My Films
    -Song to Song and Malick: The Cutting Edge
    ​
    -Nathan on Wet Lab Prints
    -Kehinde Wiley: The Morning After
    -Nathan the Friendly Hermit, Part I: Nathan Gets Pasty
    -
    Nathan the Friendly Hermit, Part II: Pastier and Pastier
    -Birdman, (a) Film of the Decade
    -
    Gone Girl: Fidelity & Subjectivity
    -On Gravity and Identity
    ​-Primary Colors with Music: Andrea Arnold's American Honey
    -Sicario: Why Visuals Matter
    -The Martian: On Intelligence in Pop Culture
    -About Elly
    -Best films of 2015: Trailers, photos, analyses
    -Selected writings on films released in 2014, 2013, and 2012. 

    On the Street:
    -Jessica Lee
    -Ah, Volume
    -Eulogy for the Damned
    -King Travis
    ​-The Great and Terrible Fifth & Jackson: An Ethnography
    The Veterinarian: A Story on Grief in 4 Parts
    -The Glow
    -Decent Street: Kendrick, Gender, Lingo, & the Good Man Problem
    -The Shake'N'Bake: Parts 1, 2, & 3
    -
    Pulling Our Weight, Part I
    -Pulling Our Weight, Part II: Addressing the Homeless Laziness Question
    -I've Been Sainted
    -Dominique The Mystique
    ​
    -Deserve, the Concept and the Song
    ​-Gangsta Phone Strategy, Deep Breaths & Kindness Rising
    -The Joy of Bus Driving
    -The Knife's Edge Dance
    ​
    -The Soulful Stench
    -"Everybody Need to Quit Acting Hard and S**t"
    -The Mother's Day Apocalypse
    -Ode to the 358
    -"I BET YOU APPROVE UH GAY MARRIAGE"
    -The Question
    -By Himself
    -Appreciation
    -Banter in the Nighttime
    -The Nathan Train
    -The Benevolent Roar
    -Truthfulness, the Final Currency
    -Love is in the Air
    -Surfing the Sparkling Wave
    ​-Saddest Music in the World​
    -Rainier & Henderson, Baby!
    -Sheeeeeeyyiitt: Strategies for Day or Night
    ​-AngryNice I (Love Through Frustration)
    AngryNice II: Tran Chimes In
    AngryNice III (We've All Felt It)
    -Love (Hurting From a Lack Thereof)
    -Hip to be Joyful
    -Future, Present, Past
    ​-Changing Awful
    -Harsh
    ​-The Nameless Heroes
    -The Break-Up
    -Tropic Of
    -Figuring it All Out in the Bullpen
    -Leaving Small Talk Behind
    ​-She Did It On a Monday
    ​-One Day, My Friend
    -I Am Now Two Years Old
    ​-The Harder Thing
    -Poker Face Practice
    -The Great Freeze

    For Bus Drivers!
    --How to Drive the 7: The Complete Care Package
    -
    -It's Called Working
    -
    -Bus Driver Appreciation Day: Coronavirus Style
    -The Swagger I Love: Thoughts on My Fellow Operators
    ​-A Love Letter for My Colleagues: Exercises and Stretches for Operators
    -What I've Learned From Other Bus Drivers
    -Rest in Peace, Breda Monster
    -I Don't Know What a Trolley is, Part I
    -I Don't Know What a Trolley is, Part II
    -Verbal

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