An examination of our cultural rejection of humanity’s interconnectedness with each other, the ecosystem, and various natural cycles for the sake of endless exponential growth and parasitic profit margins. Putting life, death, and internal inclinations into perspective through the cyclical nature of the seasons. And questioning the need to appear evergreen - a resource ready for use - always in a state of doing, just to get by.

Dear reader, if you would indulge me during this absolutely heinous Seattle winter (I’m looking at you, atmospheric river!) and let me introduce you to a beloved childhood gem of mine, I would be most grateful. While we are taking quite a big step away from the Puget Sound this month and going across the pond to England, I promise this little trip will be well worth it. If you need something warm and cozy to read like I do, read on. 

Central Cinema looks incredibly industrial from the outside, but once inside, it's a single screen of terrific movie magic.

The building that houses Central Cinema in Seattle's Central District was erected in the late 1920s and has housed both a car dealership and a milk bottling plant. The idea to turn a piece of the space into a combination movie theater and pub came to Kevin Spitzer, a metal artist, when he was renting it as his studio. In summer 2005, Kevin and his wife Kate opened the theater and have been operating it in the 20 years since.  

There are seasons when life gets so loud, whispering stops working. You stop tiptoeing and walking on eggshells around your own truth. You stop shrinking to make other people comfortable. You stop pretending you're “fine” when your soul is over there banging pots, trying to be heard and have that hurt validated. At some point, you match the volume. That’s where I’ve been — healing OUT LOUD. Not in a reckless way, not in a messy way, but in a “my heart said testify” kind of way.

Drums rolled from the brick alleyways and converged upon the square, each musician followed by a small mass of people. They carried things with them: Bits of furniture and fragments of wood. Dresser drawers and desk tops. One group hoisted a billboard overhead from one of the Upper City’s tech institutions. 

One of the greatest joys about fashion is finding the perfect fit. Yet for fat or plus-size shoppers, that joy is rare, often overshadowed by an exhausting search for options that barely exist.
Earlier this year, in partnership with Seattle Restored, the Seattle Fall Mall emerged as a pop-up community space in Downtown Seattle where being fat or plus-size was centered and celebrated.
For eight months, the founders—Amber and Alyss Seelig, Candace Frank, and Kwame Phillips-Solomon—brought together local artists and fashion designers who challenge industry norms through body positivity and collective liberation.

So here I am: rebuilding, relearning, re-everything. Washington State, bless its procedural little heart, makes you wait a full 90 days before you can even finalize a divorce. Raggedy. I could’ve been free by now, had my soon-to-be-ex not spent nine rounds avoiding the process server like it was tag at recess. So yes, I’m irritated.

I winced when my therapist—a doctor, mind you—named him a narcissist who love-bombed me at the beginning. You could’ve held my hand for that, sis.

I think Trans* people should be in control of their own stories the same way I believe that any community should be in control of their own stories. This isn’t to say that other writers can’t include Trans* characters in their stories—they absolutely should—but that Trans* folks should be the ones to own the Trans* narrative. We should decide what is an authentic recounting of our own experiences. No one else knows the experience like we do, and when others take over our stories, they tell it wrong, boiling down the Trans* experience to stereotypes: focusing on surgery, making their Trans* characters completely androgynous, or minimizing the experiences of dysphoria.

At its reopening in 2014, the Egyptian was a first run movie house for arthouse cinema and international films, much like it was under previous management. Toward the end of its lifespan, the Egyptian became the venue where SIFF would host more of its revival, restoration, and thematic programming. It is where Noir City and Scarecrowber found enthusiastic crowds. It is also where SIFF hosted Capitol Hill's pinkest party in July 2023 with joyously raucous showings of Barbie.

For Today I Am A Boy by Kim Fu stopped me dead in my tracks. 

The pure poetry in every line feels like something akin to Medeline Miller (The Song of Achilles) or Ocean Vuong (On Earth We Are Briefly Gorgeous), easy-breezy but powerful, simple and complicated. It is difficult to find a writer quite like Fu, with such command over a narrative, seamlessly moving between past, present, and future without a single falter. Each line felt like its own universe so carefully crafted, and the whole novel moved like a symphony harmonizing in unison. 

This month has been harrowing for Trans* folks all over the country, with the government shut down due to—among many other things—a disagreement between parties about Trans* healthcare expenses, a few troubling responses to the ‘No Kings’ protests over the past weekend, and more medical misinformation being spread by the current administration. It has been a difficult news week. 

Nowadays, people are buying twice as many clothes as twenty years ago and disposing of them just as much. This phenomenon exacerbates the presence of worldwide. It is often attributed to fast fashion, which promotes excessive buying. 

The FXRY (pronounced “fix-ery”) is offering a sustainable alternative.

Walking up to the Palace is like walking on the main street of most beach towns. There are restaurants, unique shops such as the fabulous Griffin Bay Bookstore, and real estate offices that try and entice you to take the plunge and move to the islands full time. Yet, the Palace is not just any building. It sits in the middle of a T with Spring St. crossing in front and Second St. S directing you right to it. It feels like the town draws you toward the Palace like a beacon.

Dunya closed her eyes and banished the Old-Man-turned-god from her sight. Still, the gods remained before her. In the abyssal blackness behind her eyes, there burned a glowing light. Shadowed figures cavorted around it, symbols flitting overhead. Vishnu and Rávan circled each other in a violent dance of war, and Dunya lay in the pyre at their stamping feet. 

I began following a case titled Doe v. State of South Carolina, in which an anonymous transgender teenager (referred to only as John Doe) is challenging South Carolina’s state law which prohibits students of the opposite sex to enter changing rooms, restrooms, and other private facilities of one sex. This law, South Carolina’s Proviso 1.120, affects all students in public Pre-K through high schools, denying Trans* students the right to use the bathroom that corresponds to their identity. John Doe, who is entering 9th grade this year, has rallied the support of his family and the Alliance for Full Acceptance (AFFA), a local LGBTQ+ advocacy group.

The Oak Harbor Cinemas is unlike many of the other exhibition spaces covered here in Sound Cinema. For one it is located on Whidbey Island which is in Puget Sound just west of Anacortes. It is certainly a unique space and a bit off the beaten path. What Oak Harbor Cinemas really has going for it is its price, especially as the theater focuses on new releases with at least one new film every week.

While Frédéric Gros is not native to the Puget Sound, and his book, A Philosophy of Walking, is not rooted in the Pacific Northwest, it has completely revolutionized how I navigate and experience the city of Seattle and the University District where I live. In a part of the world so close to nature with comfortable temperatures most of the year, and a large hiking, biking, and travel culture, A Philosophy of Walking feels like a necessary read.

The Old Man began to play. 

It was like no music she’d ever heard, tainted and raw and beautiful. 

When he finished the song, he stood, opened the window all the way, and held forth the instrument. “Do you want to try?” 

Five words which dictated the rest of Dunya’s life. 

This week, I wanted to provide an update on current and relevant Trans* and Queer news from the past month. Legislation is moving quickly, and it can be difficult to keep track of important Trans* rulings that can keep you and/or your loved ones safe.

The Rose Theatre, thus far the oldest theater in the Sound Cinema catalog, opened back in 1907 in Port Townsend, a city on the eastern tip of the Olympic Peninsula. The theater started as a vaudeville performance space—like most in that era—before converting to movies. The space went through a couple of transitions after its initial run as a movie house, and by 1992 it was a junk shop in the heart of the lower portion of the city. At that time, a group of community volunteers, donors, and investors brought the theater back to life, and for the over thirty years since, the Rose Theatre has become a community staple.