Dear Seattle,

Hiiiiii. I'm Rich Smith. Two weeks ago, I found out that I got a job here at The Stranger. The next day I found someone to rent out my apartment in Missouri. Saturday I cleaned and packed. Saturday night I went to the symphony with Dad as a sort of good-bye. Sunday morning I started driving across the country, my only companion a bag of granola. (Yes, I did receive some sexts. No, I did not respond while driving.)

I drove into Seattle Thursday afternoon and headed straight for the lake and jumped in. Then I bused down to the market to take in one of my favorite views: Elliott Bay from that place where you wait for the elevator at Pike Place Market. I like to watch the magical ferries leaving their slug trails all over the place en route to the islands. (Tangent: But what good is a vista, really? I never have any thoughts while looking at a vista, except for the thought that I'm supposed to have Big Thoughts while looking at vistas. Can we all just agree, as a people, that the only purpose of a vista is to provide a backdrop for hot kissing?)

I lived here for three years while completing an MFA at the University of Washington, and leaving this habitable sapphire was one of the saddest things that I've ever done. I even missed the monocloud that usually happens between November and May. (I've heard you didn't have a monocloud this year?) When the monocloud returns, I will make a bed of moss and praise it.

I'll be changing my pants in my car until I find a place to live, but this will not stop me from writing to you about books and national politics and tragic mass death and probably a little bit my sex life.

Be seein' ya at the t-docks,

xo
Rich