Year: 2007

The funeral really messed with my schedule – my eyes were still swollen two days later! Yes, people, I cry.

Though in the context of my biological family that required locking myself in the bathroom to hide the torrential sobs. More on that later.

Now I’m back in the swing of it all but have failed to report so many things:

Somewhere in the madness of the funeral weekend I also attended Niki Sugar’s birthday party and the anniversary celebration for Anika and KC. When I heard that the date commemorated fifteen years of couplehood I opened my eyes wide and asked KC What, did you hookup when you were ten years old?!

He laughed and informed me that they were eighteen. How amazing! I don’t know any other teen couples that have survived that long.

At some point I was swept along with the same crowd to a show at the Block Party, though in reality that just meant standing next to a chain link fence listening to exactly nothing while trying to track down friends.

Later at the Satellite I was sitting next a Himsa dude and when I pulled out my notebook he asked Are you going to write a book about us? Why no – I was just scribbling a reminder that the last time I ate food at that bar I ended up in the hospital.

Later in the weekend I met Jody and Laura at the Block Party. They asked how the funeral was and I replied (truthfully) Tragic! before dissolving in giggles (as I do).

For once we did manage to see some bands. Jody heard or read that nobody has ever written poetry or songs for me, and volunteered with alacrity. I reckoned he was joking but no – he really did write a song!

Another night I went to a reproductive health fundraiser and was bemused to find people swarming all over my arm – having Breeder etched on your body is apparently quite amusing to this generation of activists. Who knew; I haven’t attended any of these events since I campaigned for Initiative 120 with a baby on my hip.

Washington has always been full of rabble-rousers and may well end up the last haven for reproductive freedom, given what is happening on the federal level. I was super thrilled to hear about successes like the statewide pharmacy and sex education rulings. Though my goodness, that took a long time – I was on the front lines of those fights in the eighties.

Later I was dragged off to Chop Suey where I watched an entirely delightful Piece open a show – gotta love someone rapping about the CD! But then the main act did not turn up. For hours. While we all stood around waiting.

Somewhere after midnight one of the barbacks told us that the main act didn’t “like” the audience and had gone all diva on the organizers. The bouncer confirmed this version of events.

Who knows what was actually happening – but in my experience bar staff generally have an accurate line on this kind of thing.

Performing is a job like any other. There are good days, bad nights, wearisome and troubling challenges. If you tour there is the complexity of the travel on top of the craftsmanship of the show.

Sometimes it is necessary to go on stage when you are sick, or sad, or lonely. Sometimes the audience is hostile, or nonexistent. So what?

In this country and particularly in the very small world of acts who headline shows at Chop Suey, nobody has been forced to go on stage. Performer doesn’t like the audience – oh, really? I have no tolerance for that kind of nonsense. I walked out. Now, whatever will I do with myself next? This summer remains unplanned – I don’t have a clue where I’ll be tomorrow. How unusual.

I am the luckiest person ever. Why?

Because I have such good friends! One of the highlights of the summer: Stella and Al visited from the east coast!

They took me out to dinner and presented me with a birthday present (they were both born in the winter so this was intentionally ironic) they made from scratch:

Plus, Al is growing his hair out to play an aging rocker in a movie – the plan is to film him dragging a huge amp from Pike Place to Broadway – hilarious!

I miss our champagne brunches, picnics on the beach, wandering through forests, yummy dinners in the shade of their backyard, and of course, being together at Thanksgiving.

But it is endlessly wonderful that, despite geographic distance, we are still good friends.

Uh-oh. Ladychat leads to all sorts of new trouble!

Anika is trying to tempt me to chop off my very long hair – without any planning or consideration! I haven’t worn it short since 1996. What do do, what to do?

Luckily she couldn’t find a salon with open appointments – saved by lack of planning!

Though I am now seriously considering the Complete Massacre of Hair, if I’d done it today then I would have missed out! Laura decided that I needed an Eighties Flower Girl do, and proceeded to implement this fantasy in the front row of Bus Stop while Ade intoned over the microphone I can’t believe Bee is getting her hair all done at karaoke.

When I left near closing Ade made the whole bar shout Bee, you are a traitor!

Though fully half yelled Bee, we love you! as a follow-up.

The Bookatorium opening was remarkable in many ways, not least of which was the pure, brilliant, and innocent enthusiasm of the organizers.

It was also very much an underground punk event, Portland style – rare in this city! When I turned up Nikki clasped her hands together and said We just met and you’ve only been gone a few hours, but I missed you!!

Oh, Pacific Northwest – I love you! The main attraction was Benny, and it was honestly worth the whole hassle of downtown on Art Walk to see him working.

I asked David if he wanted a balloon hat and he looked at Jody and I all kitted out and replied No, I had a happy childhood, unlike you two!

Good point. The majority of my early life was given over to secrets, scandals, strife, and sorrow. Those are not the themes of this summer. Give me carousel rides and balloon hats!

The other day I had a late breakfast at Glo’s with a group of people of indeterminate sexual orientation who identify as women – albeit the sort who do not have any relationship whatsoever with mainstream beauty standards or similar.

When I described the Learning Ladychat project a bike messenger in the crew was openly horrified and asked Why the hell would you bother?

I explained my admittedly quite esoteric reasons and she looked appalled, but then pointed at my mouth and asked Is that MAC lipstick? — and we were off!

The whole group fell into proper Ladychat for approximately four minutes before we realized, recoiled in shock, and did big congratulatory high fives.

Then we went back to talking about our more usual topics, like maggot-infested leg wounds.

This would be my primary challenge with learning – I never actually hang out with ladies!

Sasha is one of the few women I know with allegiances in both camps, but the last time I saw her she kept telling me that I’m welcome to rub my nipples on her eyelids any time I like. I presume such invitations do not constitute Ladychat, though I could be mistaken.

Yesterday I went to a Seafair party with the Himsa crew and found myself in a very (as the kids would say) hetero-normative crowd, split cleanly down gender lines as people lounged, played football, and went out on a jetski.

I hung out with Natalia, a lady to her very core, and had quite a fascinating conversation about life as an expat (she is married to a Spaniard and they go back and forth), raising kids, haircuts, and the fact that Byron does not look like a ladykiller. Just another example of why you should never judge by appearances!

We laughed and laughed for hours and at the end I asked for a review of my developing Ladychat skill set. Natalia opened her eyes wide and said It wasn’t at all unnatural or forced!

Sarcasm? Compliment? Either way, highly entertaining!

Last night at eight Dawn Riddle called to say Want to go swimming?

This was of course a baffling plan since she was supposed to be setting up the gallery, but she is a Portland person – time works differently down there!

I grabbed towels (the punks never think of these things) and headed for Mobius, where an hour passed with great hilarity and some impatience as various people joined and then wandered away from the group.

It was dusk when we finally made it to Madison Park. Dawn looked around and said I only have a bra and panties, these people look like a bra and panty crowd! before stripping off and racing into the water.

I sat on the grass as the sky changed from dusk to night, watching the stars shine and my friends cavorting.

Dawn and Jesse needed to clean up and wash clothes after so we headed back to my very odd apartment, where we gathered around the refrigerator, collectively amazed by the automatic icemaker.

My living situation this summer involves matching cutlery! A toaster! The amenities of grownup life I have never known! I could offer them seltzer but sadly nothing else – my cupboards are bare.

Marisa called around midnight to say she had run into my daughter watching The Gossip show at Berbati’s. Yes, it is true – my social life has now officially been invaded by marauding offspring! I told Marisa that my apartment was full of Portland punks and she replied What are you going to do tonight? Buy some PBR and sit on a porch? Did they arrive by bicycle after spending a lot of time talking about which bridge to take?

Hilarious! That would have been the usual scene but I decided it was much more entertaining to corrupt them with karaoke at the Crescent. We were talking and laughing so much I felt like I had dislocated my jaw.

At some point the issue of birthdays came up and I said something about January birthdays being singularly sucky. Jeff said I celebrated your birthday!

Sophie rolled her eyes and commented You mean on her birthday you thought ‘shit, I’ve gotta write Bee email’!

I replied Because myspace prompted you! Whereas, if you recall, I flew from England to hang out with you on your birthday last year!

Jeff tipped his hat, laughed, and said I’m working toward manifest destiny on a big guilt wagon! Go west, young guilty one!

This made me laugh so hard I nearly fell off the stool. Just then Jeff and Sophie fell victim to love jail once again and the rest of the crew made wretching sounds or covered their eyes:

The Learning Ladychat research has thus far included a long conversation with a makeup artist who accurately guessed the brand and name of my lipstick and eye makeup, several discussions with assorted people at parties about topics so banal I could not keep track long enough to take notes, and – get this – an actual dinner party.

My observation is that the ladies mostly like to talk about exercise or beauty products (sometimes a combination of the two). They are also given to intoning things like I have horrible cramps over the dinner table.

People, that is a phrase I have never uttered! Beyond that, I do not want to know about your menstrual cycle, no matter how complicated and grotesque the details!

No offense intended to the ladies in the crowd – I am merely a novice at understanding your mysterious customs. This is not a LADY issue. It is a body issue. I similarly do not want to know details about your intestines, or testicles, if you have them. Ick.

Luckily Jody showed up to rescue me before I stabbed myself in the eye. We drove around the city half the night talking about proper subjects like literature, religion, and where people purchase crack (the venues have changed since I moved away).

Not because I would ever need to know. I was just curious about what my aunt might have seen in her last days.

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.

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!

Thought of the day courtesy of my daughter:

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: