Why on earth would I want to have my very own washer and dryer? I would miss out on my bi-monthly trip to the ghetto-tastic laundromat. Last time I went a gentleman vomited all over the outside seating and passed out next to me on the one interior bench. This time was nowhere near as exciting, but the bunch (what is a bunch of gutter punks called, a stink? a murder? a spike? a wallup? a scab?) of gutter punks sitting outside were very interested in my camera. You may wonder why I’d want to go to this place. One word: Anachronism. I am drawn to them. And I’m happy that in processing these images I found a way to really confuse the timeline. Eugene is full of these weird pockets of temporal distortion.