You can Bumbershoot, but you can't shoot your Bumber, the rain gets in that way. Bumbershoot is one of the country's largest urban art festivals, there was so much to see it was almost overwhelming, so we, my brother Terry, his wife and my concert bitch Kelly, my gorgeous niece Sara and my awesome nephew Sean, mapped our agenda according to what we wanted to see. Some events we saw together, other events we went our own ways, here are some of the highlights:
Krist Novoselic, the former bassist for Nirvana, was there pimping his new book"Of Grunge and Government", I like the guys politics, so I bought the book, unfortunately we missed his talk about the book due to the Girlie Fun Show art exhibit, how I do enjoy a frilly corset lamp and feminist artwork, it makes me thirsty so off to join my brother and family friend Bob for one of many beers at one of the many themed beer gardens. Realizing that we missed his reading, my brother and I ended up being one of the first in line for the book signing, where upon we reminded Krist of who we were and what we did once upon a time back in Aberdeen, we laughed, said our good byes and left with our signed books only to be followed by a Daily World reporter, just the mention your from Aberdeen ironically ups your status on the coolmeter of life and hearing that we knew Krist back in the day, the reporter wanted to know if we had made the trip to the festival to hear Krist speak, we said "umm...no, we just saw his name on the schedule and came to say hi", "and you know him" he asked, "yes, that is why we said hello, it works that way"....names and numbers exchanged, we walked away from our first stalking of the cursed paparazzi, periphial celebrity is lame, but hard work.
Liz Phair was next on our agenda. Somewhere between "Fuck & Run" and "Why Can't I Breathe" Liz found a new audience of thong wearing teenyboplets. It made me feel youthful being around so many young girls digging on her music, so youthful that I felt the need to embrace my girlie nature and entertain the possibility that I too, could wear a thong, let the string ride my crack and never show pantylines again, that is until reality set in after finding the thong attempt of 2001 still lodged there. Okay, truth be told there wasn't a thong in my bum, it was lint and it was stinky, so I cannot even fathom any attempt of the pseudo-undergarments irritating my tender nether regions, I may never listen to Liz Phair again.
The John Butler Trio performed on a stage under the shadow of the Space Needle, fortunately for me there was yet another themed beer garden (smiling suns) which made the viewing of the thong wearing hippies dancing tolerable. Will the John Butler Trio follow in the steps of Phish or the Grateful Dead? Who can say, but if you like, we can discuss this over a bong hit and a pint of Phishfood and whatever the outcome of our discussion, just know that under no circumstance should you ever ask me to wear a thong, ice cream yes, thong, no.
Opting out of the Hip-Hop show at the mainstage, because I am neither hip nor have I ever been hop and knowing that deep down Public Enemy wouldn't give me the same warm fuzzy feeling/damp panties I knew I would experience watching the Pollack-Hodgman interviews, we were off to the Starbucks Literary Stage. Being one of only 6 people who still reads Mr. Pollack's blog (I reread the same posts as if under a spell) I felt it was my duty to see what this person was like in the flesh and just who the fuck was this Hodgman character?
After a hysterical introduction by Hodgman, Neal read some of his writings of which I was so blinded by my lust for that chin dimple I couldn't even begin to tell you what the fuck he read. A short interview followed with Hodgman and Neal playfully out witting each other to the point of my own personal literary orgasm and then the moment of truth, the Q&A with the audience. I hadn't even thought of what I might ask Mr. Pollack, but I reached deep within my beer soaked brain and asked "How thick do you think your FBI file is?" his reply "Oh God, I love euphemisms" noting that he didn't think he had a FBI file, my mind went numb imagining the potential girth of the um....file. Afterwards, I ran my chubby ass out to the book signing table like a freaking groupie and happily drooled over him while he signed my book Nevermind The Pollacks he was happy to finally meet the person who bought the hardcover and obligingly signed his short story in Created In Darkness By Troubled Americans; The Best of McSweeney's Humor Category, I purchased a copy of The Neal Pollack Anthology of literature for my niece 14 yr old niece Sara of which he graciously signed it to his newest and youngest fan. Neal, thanks for good time, you have two new fans in Kelly and Sara and yes, I will continue to spread the good news and from one sassy bitch to another, golly, I think your fucking swell.
At Neal's suggestion, I also had John Hodgman "Former Literary Agent" and brilliant humorist in his own right, sign his stories in the McSweeney's as well and then he signed other peoples stories stating who he knew and who he wasn't. Okay, so I didn't know who he was completely until I googled his ass today, I wonder if it felt it? Hmmm...anyhoo, while signing away, he enquired as to why I didn't shout out my blog address in a fit of self promoting glory to the audience, I just muttered some self-depreciating bullshit and then told him he could Google 'Cupie' if he ever wanted to read my spew. I'm not a trained writer and being one of those 'some college' chicks, I'm always a little leery to have someone in publishing read my babble. I don't blog with aspirations of a book deal (kinda, well maybe the thought crossed my mind once or twice, but then I also dreamed of marrying Michael Jackson as child), I blog because if I don't, I get a rash this size of Texas AND Hurricane Frances on my lint riddled ass and I'm out of oinment at this point in my life. So, if you do end up reading this John, have mercy, I just hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed the interview with Neal and know that you now have a new fan. Let the stalking commence!
We also saw The Marley Brothers perform, another diverse crowd with the ability to bob their heads to the rythm of reggae music. I stood in a hideous line with my niece and nephew to experience all of 10 minutes worth of The Killers set, we had a minor altercation with a butchedoutminidykefromhell line-cutter, which almost exploded into full on warfare, but once composed and the evil succubus was booted from the line, I dragged the kids into the stadium to see the hottest thing since sliced bread and I actually enjoyed them, the kids did too, so take that you nasty butchedoutminidykefrom, HA!
After time spent in the Voodoo Lounge beer garden, we were off to listen to some blues and then finally at the end of a very satisfying weekend reveling in the Arts, we saw the Pixies. The stadium was at full capacity and although we were far from the stage we didn't care, what mattered is that we got to hear and see them in all their middle-aged glory. They sounded terrific, they rocked, I rolled, they sang, I annoyingly sang along, occasionally I would stand and block the view for the people sitting behind, for that I'm sorry, but this was a long time coming and there was no stopping my pasty white ass from rocking out. We left before the last encore so we could beat the hellish Seattle traffic, but what we did see was enough, I'm satisfied & overstimulated, I'm spent and I'm done spewing for now.
