Month: July 2007

The other night Laura listened to me explain the Flirting Research Project, Learning Ladychat, the laborious process of starting to use the phone after a ten year hiatus, and the somewhat random point that I’ve never imbibed an energy drink.

She said It’s like you’re my very own Alf!

Indeed.

Laura grew up in Kitsap County (though I never knew her back in the day) – but she has social skills!

In fact, she is a Master Communicator and one of the most empathetic people I have ever met. And also, of course, a hugely entertaining performer. Today is her birthday and I wish her all the best!

This afternoon I picked my younger child up at the ferry terminal, where I somewhat randomly stumbled across the elder child just before she embarked on a journey.

She was sitting in the lobby checking out boys with R, the girl who lived with us for a year, and M, daughter of Sal and Yantra. My kid excitedly exclaimed M doesn’t remember meeting Gabriel – explain!

I blinked and replied We went on a book tour together – you were with your moms in a van, we were driving a Volvo, there was another van full of a band and roadies….

Even then she still looked baffled. I said Um, it was like a whole month and we drove from Bellingham all the way to Sacramento doing performances every night…..

Clarity! She at least appeared to have some dim recollection of the journey. How long ago was that? Six, seven years? These girls are all grown up now – almost completely launched – their childhood memories mutating or vanishing.

The fact that they can forget massively strange epic adventures with itinerant writers, artists, and musicians with complicated love lives is simply fascinating.

Thought of the day courtesy of my daughter:

Funerals are always hard, but my family version is fierce beyond explanation. I arrived back in Seattle with swollen eyes and disheveled clothes, and some friends correctly guessed it would be a bad idea to leave me alone. They didn’t even give me time to change.

When we arrived at the Crescent David looked at me and exclaimed What, no cleavage?!

I replied I’m wearing a respectable dress. Do you respect me now?

Then I informed the group that I was lightly dusted with dead human, leading to all sorts of interesting and macabre reminiscences of scattering remains, including the time David and family tried to discard his grandfather only to find that the tin was sealed and they had no can opener.

Continuing my recent trend of “sharing” and “relating,” when the bartender (not Amber, she was at the party I’ll mention later) told me she liked my glasses I said brightly I wore the scary ones because I went to a funeral today and didn’t want anyone to hug me!

The Crescent is the sort of place where a proclamation of that kind is completely understood.

Not long after, David and Jake announced that they were going home and departed. It was great fun to hang out and watch everyone sing, but when Jody also left the group had dwindled to me, Jeffrey, and Sophie aka his Hot New Girlfriend. Three is not a magic number when two of the people are in lovejail. Just a thought!

Jeffrey offered to make me his famous nachos if I waited til closing, but the Crescent is always odd at best, and an influx of people from the Block Party made the whole place rather intolerable. I decided to go home and sleep, but on the way was tempted by text and phone to continue on to a party downtown.

In the taxi I surprised myself quite lavishly by chatting with the driver, including telling him about the funeral. He informed me that I am beautiful, I was creeped out, and then I was at my destination.

Walking down the sidewalk toward Shorty’s some girl shouted at me Hey, I know you! Are you here for the party? I can’t find anyone! – it was the other person Laura introduced me to the other night.

I blinked and escorted her inside, and who did I find just past the door? David! I laughed and said Ooh, busted! You told Jeffrey you were going home to bed!

He replied I just stopped to see my girlfriend!

I told Jeff I was going home too – we’re both cheating on him! I’m gonna tell!

David rejoined You’ll have to tattle on yourself too then!

I pulled out my camera Not only that, I’ll give him proof!

Last night I innocently went out to a cancer benefit karaoke thing because some of my friends were there. In a very cool coincidence, Laura (Crescent dj you might recall from previous adventures) was sitting with the Himsa crew. She had just met them – how amazing!

Though as the evening progressed the twists grew more and more strange, as everyone Byron has ever dated appeared – as if by magic. They all seemed sort of fretful about the situation, though I found it highly amusing.

When I realized that half the people I was sitting near were born and raised in the same odd place I was reared, the situation became pure genius.

I mostly talked to a writer/musician fellow I’ve never met though he is friends with Jeffrey – and the night was such an oddity I anted up the whole Disneyland with Junkie Auntie story. Haven’t told that one in awhile!

When karaoke finished Laura and Jody were the last standing of the group and we hopped in a cab to hit the hill. I was next to a freshly tattooed arm and thus became the recipient of the chant Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!

I don’t think a boy has ever said that to me before!

Predictably, instead of a new club or decadent party, we ended up at the Bus Stop. I can’t help it! Michele is super sweet! Skye almost accidentally elbowed me in the throat, but my ninja skills still work when I’m drinking, thank goodness.

Photo round-up!

Ade is beautiful:

Byron singing This Charming Man

KTS and Alison:

Sophie and Jeff are impossibly cute:

Nickle & J9 at the metaphysical carnival:

Sasha and Mike at the Crocodile:

I’ve been hanging out with people who tell more stories than me:

Somewhere in the haze of this boisterous trip we were walking through Belltown and J9 stopped the whole group to admire Sasha’s shoes.

Byron said Look, Bee, that is ladychat!

I furrowed my brow and commenced to examine the reasoning and goals behind the need to compliment sartorial choices.

The actual ladies (that would include the two females plus Byron) tried to interpret and explain but got exactly nowhere. I remain baffled.

They shook their heads and told me it is better that I just refrain from learning this lesson, as fake ladychat is worse than being a dude.

This makes perfect sense to me, though I think that my skills in the area could be, well, polished.

Though I am now almost capable of receiving compliments! One example: at the end of karaoke on Sunday Ade made the whole bar yell I love you Bee!

And I didn’t even twitch.

We were in Belltown to attend a metaphysical carnival featuring a magician, death metal bellydancing troupe, and heavily tattooed psychic. Byron was sufficiently freaked out he traded seats to avoid an unwanted reading – though he was of course a target anyway.

The psychic stopped in front of Byron and said I like you. I know they dragged you here by the dick, but at least you showed up. I really like you!

Last night someone offered me drugs for the second time in my entire life.

I was so thrilled I squealed and threw my hands all over the place, much to the confusion of the individual trying to get me high. Then I texted a bunch of friends to inform them of this historic moment.

The consensus (even from the sober ones, tsk) was that I should take up the offer.

Yeah, right! As I pointed out, I’ve never smoked anything, at all, ever – why learn to inhale now?

If it is Tuesday I am officially “working.” So far that means sitting around in coffee shops languorously reading River Pigs and Cayuses: Oral Histories from the Pacific Northwest and checking my email. Shh, don’t tell my agent!

Monday started at Le Pichet with Maria Canada – definitely a fortuitous way to embark on a day that included extensive ladychat (poorly executed – but at least I tried!) and watching someone spend several hundred dollars on shirts.

How alarming. Even at my most decadent I cannot conceive of such actions – let alone patronizing a store where the clerks are too snotty to actually wait on anyone. Though it was great fun to observe the antics of the bourgeoisie!

Later I wandered over to Smith to say hello to Mark Mitchell and accidentally crashed his dinner date. During the course of a highly entertaining conversation that also included Kurt aka DJ El Toro and Byron one of us said something to the effect that I do not flirt and Mark shot back She flirts with everyone!

Byron and I both went into jaw-dropping, swivel-head, caricatured shock. I challenged the statement and Mark reeled off a list of things I do that supposedly fit the description of flirting. While it is true that I giggle and twirl my hair, as a general rule I would never act like that around anyone who might hit on me. I’m not stupid, after all!

If a stranger ever approached (and they don’t – I swear) the individual would get the arms crossed, brow furrowed, nonverbal why the fuck are you talking to me?signal.

Mark continued his analysis by pointing at what he refers to as my Legendary Milky White Bosom (LMWB).

Kurt sensibly observed that I can’t exactly help the fact that I have certain physical attributes and I nodded fervently and pulled out my notebook. Mark said She thinks she can tame it by writing it down!

Too true.

An extremely murky series of events eventually found me sitting with Jeffrey in a U District bar crowded with loud obnoxious youngsters. I indignantly opened the conversation with Mark says I flirt!

Jeff sighed and said I’ve been telling you that for two years.

I pointed at Byron. He flirts, not me!!

Jeff replied You have different affectations but you both do it all the time!

I continued to object and pulled out my notebook. Jeff laughed and said That’s the trouble with you Capricorns. You’re clueless but organized and always think “I’m sure I would have written it down if I’d done it…. let me check my notes….”

Just then Byron picked up a song from a passing car and started to sing You Don’t Bring Me Flowers and this reminded me of another research project.

I turned to Jeff and said Nobody ever brings me flowers or sings me loves songs, and nobody ever has!

He frowned and said I give flowers to all of my friends! Haven’t I given you any?

No, like I said, nobody has ever given me flowers! Nobody has ever written a song for me! Nobody has ever written poetry for me! I would have gone on but remembered that the last statement was not accurate and clapped my hand over my mouth.

Byron started laughing and said Tell him who wrote you poems!

I wagged my finger at him and warned Stop or you are in Big Trouble!

Jeff looked confused and said But you don’t even like poetry!

Quick thinker that I am definitely not, I attempted to distract him from a story I didn’t want to tell by saying You’ve dedicated songs to me!

He replied Yeah, lots of times…

Luckily Sophie showed up and talk turned to half-assed guesses about what hankies in back pockets signals in the subculture that subscribes to such things. The best guess was from Jeff, who wagered a certain color must indicate That you’ve read Lord of the Flies cover to cover!

Recently I signed up for a social networking thing but was in a rush and checked the box that allowed the site to trawl my email and add contacts automatically. If I thought about it at all, I was dimly pleased that I wouldn’t have to laboriously go through and find all of my friends.

A week or so later I received a message that read in part: I know you because you are a famous writer. How do you know me? Because you’ve sent me several rejection letters!

Yikes! We’ll set aside the putative issue of fame (yeah, right – I’m recognized in grocery stores around the world- whatever) for the moment and focus on the utter stupidity of giving a social networking site permission to snoop through my email.

What delights might the bot have found? Hundreds, possibly thousands, of email addresses of real-life friends, ex friends, abandoned acquaintances, ex-husbands and their assorted ex-wives and onward through the range of ex-in-laws, all of the cousins who are literate enough to have email, countless peripheral professional contacts, legions of magazine fans and subscribers and contributors, and every single person who has ever sent hate mail or a death threat. 

Now remember – this internet thing has been my day job for over a decade. I’m painfully aware of the security risks of community organizing on the web. I’ve even been served with FBI subpoenas for server records, for goodness sake!

I really, honestly, truly knew better than to check that permission box.

I lead a very public life, but it isn’t necessary to do the internet equivalent of walking into a hometown bar and shouting Hey! Anyone heard from my stalker lately? I’d love to get back in touch!

In fact, I’m much more likely to do that (high school reunion, anyone? I can’t wait) than allow myself to be virtually connected with certain people from my past. I suppose I’m allowed to make stupid careless mistakes sometimes, though this might be edging over the quota for the year – and it is still only July.

My daughter is a rampaging genius, an artist, a raconteur, a sweet and sincere sister. She is one of the funniest and most dangerous people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing, and that would be true even if we did not share DNA.

The girl was born fist first and facing the wrong direction, and her life thus far has fully warranted the symbolism of those moments.

It has been an unbelievable number of years since I held that little scrap of a baby in my arms, surprised to find us both alive and setting off on such a grand adventure.

It is never easy to grow up and my kid has endured many challenges – and arrived on the other side still laughing.

Born in poverty, dragged hither and yon by the peregrinations of parental careers, leaving behind friends and loved ones, making new friends just to have it all happen again, illness and the absurd annoyances of adolescence: through it all this girl remains charming, swift, her own dear self, the same person she was the day she was born, while also a new and amazing person every single day I know her.

Right now she is loose somewhere in the city with her friends – a grown-up, a sweetheart, a truly fascinating young woman. I am honored to be her occasional companion as she wanders the world, and I fervently wish her the best on this day and all the rest. Happy birthday, kid! Thank you for being my friend.