Ian Pierce

Tag: California

  • mountain stars

    I’m in California right now, but I thought I’d check in. I was up in the mountains skiing for a little while, which was weird, because the highs were in the low seventies, so it was like skiing on Slurpees for most of the time. But even so, I had fun. It was typical spring skiing: guys in shorts, girls in bikinis, guys in Spider-Man costumes… the usual shenanigans. The only problem was that the weather was like what it is at the end of April, not the middle of March. So it goes!

    I tried to take some pictures of the stars while I was up there. I think they turned out pretty good! At least, they were pretty good for a basic iPhone camera.

    It’s nice to be able to see stars. Back home, the night sky is shrouded in clouds most nights and light pollution the rest of the time, so seeing some actual spacelights is a welcome treat

    Writing continues apace. I’m almost done with a draft of a novel. Gonna ship that out to beta readers soon and start querying it by this summer. I’ve also written a few short stories that I’m going to submit after revisions. My hope is that 2026 will be the Year When It Finally Happens™. Unfortunately, I wanted that about 2025, and while the Resnick award was cool, I’m still not a Publicated Authorist, as I call it. My fear is that I’m going to think that this year will be the Year When It Finally Happens™ until there are no years left. I don’t think that’s a writer thing, though. It’s a human thing.

  • i like to be here when i can

    I was just down in California last week, visiting family and friends for the traditional autumnal bird consumption ritual festival. It’s always a little weird going to California for me. I spent years being miserable there, trying to get out. I’m surprised how much I enjoy it, although that’s probably just because that’s where my family lives, as well as most of my friends.

    The story of my moving to Seattle basically boils down to “I wanted to move here, so I did”. What I didn’t know is how quickly it would become my home. Seattle felt like home to me within six months, something that never entirely happened in my hometown. I feel a kinship with this place, despite its flaws, and whenever I return here, no matter how fun the trip was, I always feel a sense of unclenching, of being in a place where I belong.

    This begins as soon as I get off the plane for one reason: fonts.

    This was the view as I left my plane from San Jose at SeaTac Airport. The font on the sign up there is called Humnst 777. All the signage in the airport is in that font, which isn’t unusual, since all airports have some manner of unified typography. But the use of this font continues once you leave the airport and get onto the Link light rail. All the station signage is in this same font. So are the signs in bus stations across King County. In fact, I’d argue that this font is as much a symbol of Seattle and the larger Puget Sound as the Space Needle, Starbucks, and annoying tourists who refuse to drink any beer that doesn’t have enough hops in it to turn it green.

    It’s funny how we create these signifiers of home within our minds. Maybe someone who doesn’t ride the Link every day like I do wouldn’t have such associations with this font. But for me, it’s just a reminder of the human element of good design.

    ~ Ian (listening to I Heard It’s A Mess There Too by Aesop Rock)

  • portraits of a seattle autumn

    Growing up in California, I was always told that my home state didn’t have seasons. I knew that wasn’t true. California, especially the Central Coast where I spent my childhood, has seasons that can largely be determined by the color of the hills. Roughly, the three seasons are when the hills are green, when they’re yellow-brown, and when they’re orange and smoking.

    Still, here in a more northerly city, the changes in seasons are more dramatic, with flowers in spring, red leaves in fall, and even a scattering of snow in winter, on occasion. And autumn in Seattle is a special time. People claim that summer is the most beautiful season in my city. I admit that the clear blue skies, warm temperatures, and endless evenings have their charm. They certainly trick tourists who visit in July, all of whom are confused that they don’t need an umbrella or a rain jacket.

    (Side note: carrying an umbrella, especially for only slight rains, is one of the most telling signs that you’re a tourist in Seattle. The only more obvious indicator that you’re not from here is calling it “Pike’s Place Market”.)

    But in my opinion, Seattle is at its most beautiful in the rain. With the sharp edges of the world blurry and smeared by mist and rainfall, the streetlights reflected in puddles, the subdued colors… it may not be the sort of weather that gets put on the postcards, but it’s ours. And when the clouds crack and kindle the red and gold and green trees into bright fire… it’s enough to make you think this place is magical.

    Autumn is the perfect time for spookums and spectres. It’s a time for leather jackets and big boots. It’s a season for sitting inside a cafe with a nice beverage and a book, staring out the window and thinking about death. Since all of these things are my favorite, it stands to reason that fall is as well.

    Plus, this fall feels especially charged with meaning in Seattle. There’s a mayoral election, and to the shock and delight of many in the city, the Mariners are one game away from the World Series. They say autumn is the dying time of year, but somehow everything feels more alive than ever.

    ~ Ian (listening to Holocene by The Ocean)