What to do without a fridge

Written on 27 April 2008
If I Knew You Were Going To Be a Writer, I Would Have Been Nicer To You

What to do without a fridge

By the time I was born, we lived in a house. When we moved to Cleveland we sold one house and bought another, I thought we traded down. In Seattle we may have been living in Rainier Valley, just up the street from the Wildwood Tavern and their weekly drive-by shootings, but at least we had a decent yard. Cleveland Heights was some sort of weird Suburbia. There were still shootings going on up the street, but not as often, no one ever got killed, it never made the news, it wasn’t the same. All the houses on our block were basically the same and only a driveway’s width apart. I thought our house made us middle class, normal, everyday, working class to be sure, peoples.
My mom being bi-polar probably has something to do with why money just disappears for them. If you listen to my sister she claims that we all have undiagnosed ADD. Except her, she got diagnosed a year or so ago, her smugness is palpable. So yes, we had a house growing up, but it didn’t always have electricity, or appliances, or food, or clothes, or shoes…
I remember the winter our refrigerator broke. My parents found another one pretty quick, not sure where, but a man and his son came by and installed it. I remember thinking he smiled too much and his son never looked at me. I would have noticed, I would have looked down had he looked up, but he never did. I know we must have appeared strange, people always thought we were Amish, and the decorations in the house were probably alien to them. They were black, like all of our neighbors who weren't religious, and the two communities never mixed. Maybe that’s why the man smiled so much, and kept looking around with big eyes, and his son kept his head down and didn’t look at anyone they had never been inside one of those homes. Not many non-religious people do. I’m suspicious though, that fridge didn’t last a month.
I don’t know if they were able to get all their money back, but they weren’t able to afford another fridge. They seemed defeated after that, and avoided looking at it. Our religion had dictated a thorough cleaning of the fridge, that’s what I was most annoyed about. That duty had fallen on me of course, and I knew I would have to do again with the next one.
I put the basic groceries we had just bought back into their plastic bags, my mom was talking about returning the milk we had bought and not opened. I slung them out the kitchen window, it faced the back of the house at least, not the sidewalk.
That actually made everyone happy, winter in Cleveland is colder than any fridge. I took the stuff that needed to be frozen and buried them in the backyard under the snow that I knew wouldn’t melt till at least April. Then my mom got worried, “what will the neighbors think if they see these bags?” I hate that refrain. As usual it was my job to calm her down, “They’re not going to look, it’s not a big thing, maybe they’ll think our fridge is too full” like that ever happened. “You can’t even see what I put in the backyard”.
Everyone used the bag system to get the everyday food and would send me into the backyard to get anything that was supposed to be frozen. Everyone else was too embarrassed to be seen foraging in the backyard for a bag of frozen peas and carrots. My mom would peek out the windows to watch the neighbors’ house to ensure I wasn’t seen. Our holy, religious neighbors, the ones with 21 or 23 kids. Not the ones on the other side with only 19 kids, the bigger family. They still had young kids living there, but the mother had seemed to finally hit menopause because the youngest was 5 or 7 or something. Holidays were horrifying. In case you’re wondering, the family across the street had 11 kids.
I wasn’t going to let our neighbors dictate my behavior though. What did I care if one of their kids was watching me? More than a few of their kids seemed a little ‘deficient’ to me. Slack jawed mouth breathers, all of them strangely thin, boney, tall, gangly with translucent skin. They were scared of our cats, thought that cats were dirty, and that we must be dirty as well, also we were Gers, dirty almost by definition. “Stop marrying your cousins!!” I wanted to shout when groups of them would sit and stare at me when I came or left my house. The father dealt in diamonds, they could afford to ‘be fruitful and multiply’ and they took it to heart. Not that unusual.
Eventually they got another fridge, probably around springtime knowing them.

Thanks for all the fish

Leaving a city you've lived in for 8 years isn't easy. It wasn't that hard either though. The last two years I failed to travel much and instead holed up and focused on school for some insane reason. I wanted to leave two years ago, I came back to do this job, now that it's over I'm gone.

Digital representations of how much of an impact I have made in Seattle and how much I will be missed aside, I know that I'm losing something precious when I leave. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen some of my friends this year, but that didn't change our relationship. There's a geography of comfort in spaces where you have lived and become established, the knowledge of what is out there and how it will effect you, where you can go to get stuff done and people you can turn to. I'm losing that.

Phone, internets, and social websites will keep me connected and all of the good people and friends and community are insurance that I'll be back.

Craigslist Creeps

i troll through the craigslist ads for housing in cities i daydream of escaping to. I started noticing a trend in the portland housing ads mentioning specifically if they would be accepting applicants with section 8 or not. Is this just Portland? Are they allowed to do that? Is it because they have so many crazies in Portland, or because there are so many fucked up war vets around now? My friend says more vietnam veterans died from killing themselves than in actual combat. I think the next few years are going to get pretty scary around here.

I then switched over to seattle's craigslist where I didn't see any disclaimers about section 8, but I did see a lot of creepy people posting ads. What is up with these people? They don't want roommates, they want fuck buddies, buff pool boys, french maid girls, why are they posting in the housing section?? Maybe their personal ads aren't getting enough attention.

This guy is great

$262 Let’s share One Bed Room
Reply to: hous-555343798@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-01-28, 11:44PM PST


Hi there,

I have posted this ad last time. However, I am reposting it since I wanted to include more information.

I have recently moved from CA and have been living in a 1BR. Its monthly payment including utilities is $524.00.

I am a man and have never had any drugs or smoking. I have a car and have been using the free parking spot.

If you have a car, there is no more free parking spot left for you. Please no drugs, smoking, or pets. I want you to move by February 1st. I prefer a female roommate.

I am afraid that I don't have a photo and my computer also doesn't have the necessary equipment to attach a picture. We can meet for coffee and I will show you the place.

If you are interested, please let me know your phone number and we will talk about it.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Thanks.

I'm glad he reposted with more information, yet didn't bother to fix up the butchered grammar in the sentences.

This lady manages to be fairly creepy as well:

$300 female looking for male to share house
Reply to: hous-556507205@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-01-29, 10:56PM PST


i live in bellevue near ne 8st by myself and looking for a male roomate. it will only be me and you, the rent is cheap cause you will be responsible for all gardening and general maint when applicable. i have a furnished room with a nice view of downtown. i have a black lab so you must like dogs. please send me some general info and a pic of you, to make sure you dont look like a creep or something,ciao mikeb.

seriously? maybe she has assault fantasies.

i'm glad to see that the 1$/free rent guy is still posting. The notice changes wording ever so slightly but the spirit of the offer always stays the same:

$1 Belltown penthouse / female preffered
Reply to: hous-561861284@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-02-03, 3:07PM PST


Very nice penthouse apartment in Belltown, big deck with water and city views, very clean, plasma TV, hot tub on roof, BBQ etc..Near all the fun stuff, clubs cafes, walk to Seattle Center, AI, Queen Anne and the ballparks.

Nice business professional male 42 seeks female roommate 20-30, free utlities. food and rent. Seeking someone who can tease me occassionally and enjoys it..that's all...respectful clean, expect same. no pets please ...room available is a den with a view..small but smartly appointed lovely with windows....write for details

and female preferred? ha. The plasma tv and hot tub do sound tempting, and it has been during times of couchsurfing homelessness, but this is not an actual housing offer. Gross.

like a bottle of pepto bismol vomited

It was when I came back from traveling in Mexico and Cuba that I really noticed how drab and black Seattle was. Before when I would crack jokes about the 'uniform' or the 'black t-shirt brigade' i was just joking, only kidding. Then I saw it. Really, the uniformity, the bland, drabness that allowed everyone to similiarize their look into a lowest common denominator of fashion.
It was hard to tell people apart, people I knew, people I saw all the time, strangers, customers, neighbors, friends, all blurred together. Tight, pinched pale faces drawn into a blank look verging on a scowl. An unfocused gaze, pretending to look outwards but oh so self aware. It's painful to walk down the street next to them.
I really starting appreciating my friends that wore color, my friend my santa cruz ('my mom's from peru' she would explain), another girl from texas (i would say austen, but she developed some sort of texas pride while living in seattle) and another lady from New Orleans.
The bright colors they wore suddenly started standing out more starkly to me as a form of rebellion, not just nonconformity but an active rebellion. Taking back the drab and depressing streets and dressing them up with moving, bobbing, brightly colored beings walking alongside everyone else.
I started taking part as well. Someone gifted me their old coat, they had barely worn it and tired of it already. It was bright blue, neon blue, or as I like to say 'rainbow brite' blue. Over the years I've gone from black hair, to dark purple, and now a bleached out lavendar or pink raggedy-whispy mess.
I march around seattle, as depressed, bitter and angry a I ever have been. But looking like some sort of ray of sunshine. Or something. People comment on the coat constantly. Some get excited. I use it as an excuse to walk out in front of traffic that doesn't stop when I wait at a corner. They have no excuse, I know they saw me.
This blog page may be going over the top. It's an annoyingly in your face color and looks like a bottle pepto bismol threw up all over my browser window.
Yet being annoyed at something so mundane as an ugly color makes me feel better. Not so annoyed at everything else perhaps. who the fuck knows.