Right after I arrived in Seattle a boy I barely knew texted and said Want to come over and make out? I always wanted to say that in junior high!
I replied I dropped out of junior high.
He said Even better!
At the time I was having the email conversation with Ayun about how hard it is to work when confronted with so much temptation. She replied Give in to temptation! I do and I’m not even in Seattle. Bust out the Halloween candy!
She told me about a friend who, years before, decided to declare Phil R’s Seventh Grade Summer. It was his stated intent to ride his bike, eat ice cream, hang out with friends, and do whatever seemed like the most fun.
This struck me as a fantastic idea. I resolved to follow the example, pursuing only what made me happy. In some sense this is how I always organize my life, but I also have a tendency to spend too much time alone and thinking.
Making a decision to be explicitly decadent meant that the ensuing three weeks were filled with wild, mad, strange, and rewarding adventures. I was having so much fun I nearly failed to document any of it, but here are a few glimpses:
The Bus Stop. Why do I have a relationship with a bar? The reasons are obscure – I certainly do not get drunk and carouse on the premises. I find it baffling to overhear people say things like That was a gnarly Jaeger bomb!
But I do meet fantastic, lovely people who surprise me with generosity, affection, friendship, and solutions to problems. They keep my glass full of fizzy water and we tell each other stories and I feel at home in a city that has never loved me.
I do not particularly grasp the point of karaoke (perhaps because my performance addiction is adequately fed by touring), but my friends like it so I trail along behind. The Bus Stop of course offers the best I’ve ever seen, with the wickedly hilarious Ade behind the machine every Sunday.
Second best is the Crescent on Wednesday, because Laura is the DJ. Highlights of these evenings include the DJ’s singing, Jeffrey not even needing a microphone to fill the room with sound, and Anouk performing Walking on Sunshine while Rodney and Zack pelted him with ice.
One afternoon I stopped at Pagliacci to grab a snack and eighties alternative hits were playing on the sound system. Looking around, I realized that the place looks exactly the same as it did in 1988. Even a morbid mind like mine cannot resist remembering the thrill of being old enough to go to the city alone, walking long distances to shows, romance and moonlight.
The fact that my youth contained even a few of those moments is extraordinary – being able to remember and feel it wash over me again is a tremendous gift.
I went to Bauhaus every day to work (and be distracted by the wireless internet). One morning while I was having a confusing text conversation instead of writing an essay Lovely Day started to play.
That song was the theme of eighteen months of my life, the track played most frequently throughout the move both to Seattle and away again. I sat listening and thinking about how abruptly I abandoned my life in the states – a decision made without any rational thought, following only instinct. The whole thing could have been a mistake but instead it was fortuitous. I am in fact the luckiest person ever.
One of my publicity averse local friends shares many of my robotic responses to the world. One day at lunch I was fascinated to watch him entrance the waitress. He managed to get her life story and dating history, reveal her back tattoo, and give up her phone number – distracting her so much she failed to deliver checks to other tables.
I spend most of my time with notorious flirts and very little surprises me but this was still quite an accomplishment in the middle of a lunch rush. Given that he claims that he does not flirt, the scenario was quite amusing. I decided not to wonder if my non-flirting also looks suspiciously like something else.
I dropped in to Left Bank to buy a copy of my book for Ade. Joy Division was playing on the sound system, bringing up a whole sequence of memories of selling zines to the store way back in the days before Kinkos, when producing such things entailed sneaking into locked offices. But those years were rather grim so I put the thoughts aside and marched onward to look for a jacket to wear over the new grown-up dress.
In the middle of the excursion I texted Mark Mitchell to check if he thought a specific purchase worthwhile and he, in a very magical fashion, materialized within moments to supervise my Fashion Emergency.
He tried to get me to buy a silver silk trench coat but I asked a critical question: what would I do about lipstick stains? He conceded the point and I left the store with an excellent black thing that was on sale for ninety percent off. I do love a bargain.
Toward the end of the trip Zack from Bauhaus was sitting next to me at the bar. He gestured toward Jeffrey and asked So are you dating?
I shook my head no but Mark leaned across and said No, it is strictly about oral sex.
I dissolved into laughter and Jeffrey wandered over to see what was happening. When Mark repeated his assertion Jeff was so embarrassed he put his head down on the bar.
Zack looked back and forth, mystified, and asked Who is lying?
I wagged my finger at Mark over his desire to mislead sweet young people.
Just before playing a benefit show Jeff told me a scandalous and totally false rumor he heard about yours truly that made me laugh and laugh. During the show he dedicated a song to me and I noticed a girl glaring across the dance floor; remembering Ana’s injunctions against cock blocking I efficiently found a ride back up the hill in hopes that Jeff would land a date after his spectacular performance.
While Mark was in charge of my wardrobe he conceded eyebrows and hair to Ade, who kept insisting that my head could be styled. I argued otherwise – my hair is far too slippery and unkempt to even bother. I’m not good at the girl things but there was much chitchat about makeovers. I insisted that all the ideas would hurt my neck, and also pointed out that my mother won’t let me wear high heels, but they shook their heads purposefully. I finally asked with some nervousness You aren’t going to make me get a haircut are you? They promised not.
At the last second I managed to arrange to have dinner with Scott and Byron Number One. They knew me at the same time but have never met, in one of those continuing mysteries of my life. Scott was the boy we went up the mountain to see before the accident. Byron went to the prom with me and got arrested with us that night. We had great fun catching up and then I dragged them over to the Bus Stop since I had promised to introduce Mark to some people from my troubled youth.
I cancelled my San Francisco trip when I was sick (even though I dragged Hiya and Jonathan’s keys all the way from the UK) and that meant that I had time to go to Portland – which is another story entirely. By the time I got back I had run out of time to see the rest of the people I wanted to, particularly those with regular daytime jobs or homes outside the city limits. The present I bought for Susan two years ago has now crossed the ocean three times without being delivered. Sometimes I am in fact a bad friend.
There were secrets and surprises and schemes in abundance and I remained so busy I had a scant ten minutes to pack before dashing to the airport.
On the way out I sent Mark a message saying that it is hard to maintain an existential crisis when surrounded by so much love. He was pleased that I noticed the adoration all around me. And I did – truly. My days were filled with confusion and happiness.
On the plane I stared out at the clouds, overwhelmed with sadness, regretting nothing.