Strictly speaking, the first day of autumn falls on September 23 this year. For Seattle, though, autumn is pretty much a default state — and when you add actual, genuine autumn to it, miraculous things happen.

If you have a major league jones for a ballgame but find your finances dipping below the Mendoza Line, consider a jaunt to check out the plucky Everett AquaSox.

I don’t really need to explain my love of Las Vegas or Bangkok to my friends. Seattle, however, is a tougher sell.

My singing voice isn’t great, but it can hold a tune. And I love to do it. Growing up in the suburbs of Orange County, CA., singing in public was almost an act of rebellion.

The regulars on my bus are the costumed crusaders that keep the city safe. Not in a grandiose, Batmannish sort of way, but in their own, quiet ways.

I haven’t been in Seattle very long. But I have been here long enough to see dozens of local institutions come and go — and I have the photographs to prove it.

Part of me wanted to talk to Cobain and part of me didn’t want to bug him, but now his own wife was encouraging me to go bother him. Maybe this was some sort of inside joke between them.

Cobain grabbed a hammer and proceeded to annihilate his guitar, going at the thing with pure hate. He then collapsed onto the floor, where he lay motionless for the next twenty minutes.

Seattle Center is in a kind of zombie state right now. There’s a plan to make the former World’s Fair grounds into Seattle’s Central Park, but without money and public will, it may well fail.

You’re talking about water falling from the sky in great cascades; fat raindrops smacking against windshields and rooftops. We rarely get to see anything like that up here in Seattle.