My home. Where i live.
Reminds me of a
tropical storm.
Elements from the opposite ends of a
spectrum thrust together in a confined space. Throwing off some of the
elements that make it up, only to pull more locally to make up for the lost. Watch a
satellite view of a storm sometime. That's Olympia.
Home of junkies,
hippies,
hicks,
sycophants,
liberals,
rednecks, crusty-punks,
kids, and
hipsters. Not necessarily mutually
exclusive.
Something of a
punk rock cradle. Let's not mention the
riot grrrl thing. Features strongly in the evolution of some of the best bands in the last ten years. Seriously,
indie rock fanboys move there all the time with no idea what it's actually like.
It's true about the
white vinyl belts.
An incubating little island where you can avoid growing up, get
hip, get a
tattoo, go
gay, start a
band, make your horrid
art, and do other
twenty-something-in-the-city-type activities without the pressures and challenges a real city would present.
A
small town.