Wednesday, July 17, 2013


This mostly-eaten bag of white bread was in a gas station parking lot outside a My Little Pony convention in Seatac. Teenagers in pastel felt pony costumes crowded the parking spaces nearest the doors, drinking bourbon. Some were eating Twizzlers and fried chicken, but there was no observable bread-eating going on. The bread looked soft, but its motel continental breakfast looks indicated it contained enough preservatives to stay spongy for centuries. No one buys bread from a gas station unless they desperately want bread, so it was odd that any bread had been discarded. Someone probably ate most of the bag of bread rapidly in their car, and then threw the rest into the parking lot, overwhelmed by nausea and/or a sense of defeat.

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Tuesday, July 9, 2013


It was a uniquely exciting moment when I realized the object on my friend Rachel’s deck was a deflated rubber turkey and not a deflated beach ball painted to look like meat. She had been using it as a flotation device at the beach. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it,” she said, “It won’t inflate anymore!” I picked it up and blew into its rubber valve as hard as I could, but the valve wouldn’t open and it made my face hurt. It also made me a little dizzy. I stood there swaying slightly and recalling the intoxicating scent of the bin of beach balls at the Fred Meyer near the house where I grew up. The turkey still lay shriveled on the deck the next morning. The light an inflatable turkey makes the least sense in is daylight.

If you find food on the street, send location and description to