Los Angeles, I'm Yours

I have the above-titled Decemberists song stuck in my head. That song is actually not a celebration of Los Angeles, but a sort of ironically melancholy lovesong. But here in Seattle, exhausted and... grey-feeling, I sing it, meaning it, without irony. It's raining and cold and grey and miserable and damp, and it reminds me of that September when I first moved here eleven years ago, and it rained for months on end. What a terrible winter that was. None have been that bad since, but winter in Seattle is just not a good thing. So Los Angeles was a welcome change. The sun shone in soft golden rays that actually warmed me up, unlike the pathetically weak grayish rays that suffice as "sunshine" in wintertime Seattle.

Should I just say I had a great time in L.A.? O.k., I had a great time. But maybe you're more detail-oriented than that. Maybe you want to know exactly what went down. I'm going to tell you. Everything. (You already know that's a lie, don't you? I have many secrets…) I'm going to give you the PG version, o.k.? Read between the lines or don't, up to you.

Tuesday, Wednesday (South Pasadena):
My first night: warm air and car fumes waiting for the shuttle to EZ Rental. I could feel excitement shimmying down the cement pylons and up my spine, adventures waiting to happen. L.A. is waiting for me to live it.

I had my first experience driving the L.A. freeways, going from LAX to Pasadena at night. I was so thoroughly freaked out at the prospect of driving that I found it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be.

Dave Stone's house is in South Pasadena. The night was much quieter than where I live in West Seattle, and palm trees swayed in time with orange-scented breezes, dancing with their deciduous partners. Dave's room is cozy and dry, nestled in a rooftop, and featured a couple of great Beatles posters. We had delicious noodles at a place in Chinatown… I wish I could remember the name of it. We went back to Dave's place. I like Tosh; he's a fancy Japanese dog. I think Lily is maybe an Aries; I know she's part Chow and she scares me because she barks a lot and stinks. Dogs are fun, but they are very smelly and dirty. I was talking with a friend in L.A. about how I'm going to write a book called, "The Problem with Dogs." It was really funny at the time.

Anyway, the next day, we drove back to Chinatown and looked around. We checked out a cool artsy shop called Ooga Booga. We went to Old Town Pasadena. It's got an H&M, where I did a little damage. I seem to be powerless over jewel tones. This season it's sapphire and teal. Last season it was violet and plum. What next? Don't worry; I won't do something horrible, like wear yellow.

Griffith Park: Just as cool as I remember from before, except that I'm not a 26 year old idiot (I'm a wizened 29 now, of course), and they've dug out two whole floors underneath the observatory. There are some really cool new exhibits, including one where you can simulate what would happen if an asteroid, comet, or other object were to hit the earth (hint: sometimes the world blows up!).

The night ended with me not getting to hang out with Daniel House because I had to meet up with these other people that Dave and I know. It was imperative and hopefully Daniel House doesn't think I'm a complete douche.

Thursday (Downtown, Santa Monica)
I went running at the Arroyo Seco, which is a huge gorge in Pasadena. My run originated at a horse ranch, led me next to the L.A. River and under the graceful curves of the Colorado Street Bridge, and I finally turned back at the Rose Bowl. As I ran in the shadow of the bridge, the song "Everything in its Right Place" by Radiohead came up on my iPod, and my runner's high kicked in. Need I tell you it was a transcendental experience? It was genuine and empowering, unlike the acid I dropped on my last visit to L.A., which was exciting but also left me frightened and vulnerable and feeling a million miles from myself and everyone else on the planet.

Later Dave and I hit Scoops, this amazing ice cream place. I had the Brown Bread flavor. I know, it sounds disgusting, but actually, it was incredible! It was mostly sweet and carmeley with crunchy bits, reminiscent of brown bread without tasting like a glob of raw dough as I had feared. Dave had the Sesame Ginger. Spicy and refreshing, sweet but not cloying. (Just like me, right?)

Before I knew it, it was time to go to Downtown. For some reason, "going Downtown" seemed almost as intimidating as "driving on L.A. freeways," so Dave was kind enough to lead me to the very exit I needed, and then I forged ahead on my own. I looked about, wide-eyed, at what appeared to be a bunch of road construction and old factories, and nothing that possibly looked like it could be a place anyone would ever deem "home." Donihue (the second of my L.A. Daves, as I like to call them) didn't pick up his phone. I tried again. "Dave, it's me. I'm here. Where are you?" Sent a text. "I'm here. Where u at?" And again, ring, ring, no answer. Panicked, I drove in circles, going down increasingly sketchy streets, and occasionally completely ignoring road signs (such as No U-Turn, Stop, and speed limit signs of all stripe). Finally I gave up and parked next to the side of the road, with the engine on and in drive, hands on the wheel and right foot on the gas, just in case. I later found out that the place I parked was in EAST L.A. That's right, folks; I've been to East L.A. and I lived to tell the tale! Though I guess these days, people are moving there. Soon it'll be the new Los Feliz.

Finally I heard from Donihue and we met up. He lives in a really cool loft, or maybe I should say lived, because he was in the process of moving out. I hung out while he frantically dealt with issues involving trailers and European releases and situations in India and what seemed to be a million different time obligations. The combination of the moving-related chaos in his house plus all the work he so obviously had to do informed me that despite his generous offer, to stay there would be to get in his way. So, we went to Japantown and had sushi and sesame chicken. L.A. has such great restaurants. After, I walked down the street, my fuschia dress flapping in the breeze and me daintily holding it down, while Mexican construction worker dudes gave my self-esteem a big boost.

We walked back to my car, and Dave gave me one of the best hugs ever. Awww… Dave Donihue! He's the best! Such a friend. A joke, told by Donihue: "So I was dating this girl and she was smart, and funny, and drop-dead gorgeous, but I had to break up with her. I told her, 'I just don't want to be in a long distance relationship, you know? I mean, I live here in Downtown and you're all the way in Santa Monica. That's like seven miles from here!'" I told everyone that joke. Hee.

Off to Santa Monica. I was not excited to drive west to Santa Monica in rush hour traffic, but it wasn’t that bad. Of course, going from west to east must have taken those poor people an hour and a half to get home. Ridiculous. I wended my way through the wall-to-wall traffic and eventually saw the exit to Santa Monica. I like the road directions to Santa Monica… it's basically like this: "Drive west. When you get to the Pacific Ocean, turn right and park."

Time to meet Jamie and watch the sunset. I put my bags at his place and together we walked the across the street to Santa Monica Pier (yeah that's right. He's oceanfront…. Hot!). I went and tried to get perfect sunset pictures with seagulls flying in the camera's path. The whole Jonathan Livingston Seagull look, you know? I would've settled for some Christian inspirational card look, but the light was no good for that. But I got a couple of nice pictures of the ferris wheel and the octopus thing and Jamie.
They have these outdoor movies at the pier and lucky us, they were screening Roman Holiday that night. Of course it was freezing right on the waterfront, and even with all those layers, it wasn't warm enough, so we watched it back at Jamie's. Lovely film, that.

Friday, Saturday (all over)
Friday morning, I had a headache and so I laid there for two hours waiting for the storm to pass. Bad, bad headache. After that, I felt much better and so went for a run from Santa Monica to Venice Beach and back. Some wonderful views and some, well, hmm. I saw a lot of things, like a beautiful young woman who seemed to think it was a great idea to wear orange spandex stretch pants with a pink and purple tie-dyed spandex top, and her hair in a pink and orange scrunchie on top of her head. Awesome! Venice Beach is full of all kind of fat tourists and lean locals being awesome at beach sports. Hot guys spiking volleyballs, abs and pecs gleaming copper in the high noon sun, while chubby Midwesterners shot pictures of real, live Californians. I saw some of the best skateboarding of my life, one guy with that low key casual "who me? Oh yeah, I guess I sorta do rock" kind of thing, another who was more overt about his skatergod status, punishing the pavement like a dom disciplining her Bellevue businessman.
After running I had to go back and hot myself up for the super-special behind the scenes tour of Paramount. It was really fun but it would probably not be as interesting to read about as it was to go to. Let's just say that I'm now tight with Jesus the security guard, I know Jamie's boss secretly wants to give me his extra (yeah, extra) plum-colored Vespa, and I know where Lucille Ball liked to kick it back in the day. And maybe, just maybe, when I was on my way from Astroburger back to Paramount to get my car… maybe I saw a three name celeb. But I couldn't tell you about it, because that's not very L.A. cool to do so, now is it? So I won't tell you about illy ob ornton and his ig eesey-ass grin at me. I guess even big old stars still think a purdy girl is purdy. Well, at least I'd know he's not phobic about making a lifelong commitment – he's done it a few times now!

I hung out again with Dave Stone and our mutual friends in Los Feliz that night. Our friends rock. I thought I lost my shawl that's 90% knitted (that's taken me nearly a year to work on so far) and had to invoke the good old Catholic standby, the prayer to St. Anthony to intercede in helping find lost things. I found it! St. Tony is such a badass, awesome saint.

Afterwards I met Jamie and his friend Mary at Birds, this trendy place in Hollywood that film industry people like to hang out at. The best part was when it started raining and all the starlet wannabes and trendsters had to crowd under umbrellas, while their Uggs (yeah, people still wear 'em. Seriously, ladies. What's up with that?) got soaked and their make-up became mussed.

The next day, Jamie and I had delicious crepes in Santa Monica at the aptly named Café Crepe. Is there anyone out there who can make the case that the nutella/banana combo is NOT the best crepe ever? I think not.
Afterwards, it was raining. WTF?? In fact, it was raining so hard that the streets flooded. See, since it rarely (not never) rains in Southern California, they don't put drains in the streets. So, just crossing the street, my jeans were wet to the knee and my shoes full of water. Thus, we did the only sensible thing to do: we went shopping. At Planet Funk I got a really cute Tokidoki shirt which features all kinds of insanity, like little dudes in cow costumes with Tommy guns, and evil milk cartons with horns. Double awesome! High school kids go into seizures of jealousy when they see it. I also checked out the new Sarah Jessica Parker (hint: shop carefully. The clothes are inexpensive, but some of them feel even cheaper than they are).

Later, I met up with Ashley. The rain had stopped and we enjoyed a coffee and a walk and a talk. She so rules. I'm sure she's going to be a hugely successful photographer someday. Next I went to Benihana. I had the lobster and the fillet mignon. But then, so did he.

Grabbed Ashley in Hollywood and raced downtown to some gallery show with Dave Donihue and his friend, and unfortunately we were only able to stay for about 15 mins because it was getting late and we were late for Dash Snow's show in Chinatown, and the galleries there close at 10 p.m. We only got to be there for a few minutes as it was, but the cool thing was this. The entire gallery space was one huge lightbox with his photos lined up against it. Everyone except for me was wearing black and seemed to have darker hair. I had on this fairly hot teal dress and you know what my hair is like. It was an ultravividscene moment.

I had fun hanging out with my friend Melissa's cousin Steven and his cousin Shari. We watched The Thrones with a sinking realization that we were wasting a lot of hearing damage on something unpleasant to listen to. But we really wanted to stay for Abe Vigoda. Ashley was amazing when she pointed out that they were not, in fact, Jade Pagoda, which is what I was calling them. It's just easier to say, o.k.? So, they were these fun, noisy kids having a great time on stage. Reasonably listenable and unreasonably cute.

Sunday (western L.A. and beyond)
My last day. Met up with Dave at some place and ordered from the kid's menu (you can do that without raising eyebrows in L.A. Everyone's on some kind of diet. I love that.) Then we drove all over the western parts of L.A. so that I could start to learn more about some of the neighborhoods. If I could afford it, I'd like to live in the west. Santa Monica would probably be my first choice, but it's pricey… maybe I can come up with some sort of deal? We'll see.

In the meantime, I'm here. I'm working some overtime, selling everything I can, trying to save up money. I'm culling needless people and activities and expenses and time sucks from my life. Sorry if you don't hear from me. I still love you. I'm just busy trying to do something with my life. I'm writing again and I'll be doing even more soon. This is a difficult thing about writing and friends: I kinda have to be alone to do it, unless you want to get together with me for coffee and writing. In that case, we’ll avoid speaking to each other, listen to our iPods, and occasionally look up over our laptops like we're playing Battleship (thanks, Shawn).

I think I gotta leave. I love Seattle. You know that. But I'll write about that some other time. For now, know this: as much as I love it, I need to move on. I need to shelve my past and the future that I dreamed about that can't happen. I need to have new dreams, new dramas, hell, even new disappointments. A future of sunshine and smog.

Bumbershot!: A Recap of Seattle’s Best Music Festival

Let me preface this by saying: I LOVE BUMBERSHOOT! I go nearly every year. This year was as good as always: the talent, the Indie Mart, Flatstock, and my friends. Good job, everybody!

Day One: Saturday
I got there late so I missed Crowded House. And I heard they were great. Crud. So, got there when I got there and met up with my friend Jamie from LA and we watched the Shins. With those guys, you might as well just put on their CD. They threw a pretty dull live show, but they sounded perfect. We were starving, so we got a huge brick of undercooked curly fries and a Polish dog that was mostly bun. As usual, Bumberfood bumbersucks. There was a lull in the action after the Shins; it was unbelievably crowded and there was nothing I was dying to see, so we went and hung out by the fountains and laid in the grass. So peaceful and relaxing, that is, until some moronic hippie girl ran into me while trying to play hackey sack. Hackey sack? Really? Still? Give it a rest, stinky hippie douchebags.

After having dealt with the unwashed masses for a little too long, we went to the Starbucks VIP area. Yeah, you may not have known this about me, but I'm a Starbucks VIP. I signed up to be a Bumberfan (sigh) on the internet and you get some spiffy things like this. It was set up next to this outdoor stage, so we listened to the Avett Brothers (a so-so alt country outfit) and had free drinks, sitting in the shade. I went back to the VIP area a few times over the weekend and got some free beverages, so right now I am a big fan of Starbucks.

Next I went to The Moth: Sex, Drugs, & Rock 'n Roll stories. SO awesome. Dan Kennedy, a McSweeney's writer, was HILARIOUS about rock 'n roll and "not selling out," and Dan Savage had one of the funniest acid trip stories I've ever heard (and I have heard a LOT of them). Another great thing about The Moth show is that it was in Bagley Wright Theater. Fabulous venue to check out during the sometimes taxing Bumbershoot: it's cool, dark, and the sensory input is limited to the show in front of you. Highly recommended.

Next, Jamie and I met up with Julissa.* We went to a Phucket Thai; the Phad See Ew (sp?) was tasty but nothing special, but the bathroom was incongruously brilliant, with a tv playing sports and soft mood lighting and candles and cool Thai decorations. I give the food a 6 but the restroom knocks the overall experience up to a 7.

The last show of the night was Gogol Bordello, which was by far the high point of Saturday. High energy Gypsy rock 'n roll craziness. How fun! The only downside is the people doing that yucky ska pogo dance thing. Eww. Oh yeah, and the homoerotic heiney dance that these frat boys were doing right in front of us was awful to behold. Not hot. So not hot.

After that, Julissa and I hung out at an Irish bar (McMinemans?), where the bartender sweetly made sure that my club soda never ran out. Aww!

Day Two: Sunday
Started off with the last half of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. BRMC delivered the goods though they're a bit slow and droney for an afternoon out in the sunshine. I think of them as more of a nightclub band, but they're great and I'll never turn down a chance to see them live. After they finished, for some reason the jerkoffs at the mainstage decided to hose everyone in the audience. It was so freaking lame. It wasn't even that hot, and the crowd wasn't thick or unruly. There was absolutely no reason for them to do it, and it ruined my hairdo and got my suede boots wet. Jerks.

Kings of Leon came on the mainstage next. I was excited to see them, because I'd heard such good things, and then when they came out onstage, I was even more excited, because those guys are really cute. But then they started playing and it was this southern-fried blandly icky rock, and so we left. Kings of Leon, you may have a cool name, but you're no Fountains of Wayne.
Next we went to the Fucking Eagles. This Tacoma-based garage band seem like really nice guys, the kind of guys I'd like to go to a car show with. Their first song was really good, but then they played it again two more times. Or maybe their songs are all similar sounding. Hey Fucking Eagles, thought of doing covers? I bet this band would rock with some good songs.

So, I went to Stars of Track and Field by myself and they were one of my favorite bands at Bumbershoot. They are three guys, doing amazingly rich swirly pop, with beautiful harmonies – absolutely the perfect Bumbershoot show. Lazy, hazy sunshine music. I'm smiling just remembering it.

Then I saw my good friend Barbara and we hung out and waited in the sun for the Apples in Stereo. Talk about fun summer music! One of the best parts of this show was watching all the really young kids dancing energetically and getting really into it. I remember seeing these guys years ago; it's great to watch a new generation of kids feeling their psych pop vibe.

I cut out of Bumbershoot early; so lucky because Alex was passing through so he gave Barbara and me a ride home in his yellow Mustang. I know it's silly but riding in hot cars gives me a cheap thrill. Yeeeoowww!

That night, I went to a really great party thrown by Sound magazine at Solo. Nick from Death Cab was one of the DJs, and there were a lot of fancy people whose names you'd recognize. I'll not bore you by listing them, because that would be silly. Anyway, great party, great magazine. The only drag was that Heinekens were free for people…. But my drink, Red Bull, cost $3.50. Not fair! Word to the wise: if you want Heather Rogers at your party, please, make sure Red Bull or Rock Star is one of your valued sponsors. Got that?

Day Three: Monday
Time to do other stuff… Getting a little Bumbered out. But, I can't stay away 100% because I have VIP tickets…. Real ones, not just Starbucks VIP. So I got a late start, caught a few minutes of Lyrics Born, and took a good look around Flatstock. Great artists this year. I bought a fantastic Danny Danger print made for a Silversun Pickups concert. I got lucky, finding affordable artwork I love by an east coast artist, featuring a band I'm really into. Yay!
Then I ran into the Ice Cream Man and got free ice cream! I love you, Ice Cream Man. You and your tasty, cold, ice-creamy goodness.

Then, the band that I think wins the Bumbershoot 2007 Most Inspirational Award: The Frames. The Frames is this amazing alt band from Dublin that apparently everyone else in the universe knew about except me, but then I saw the stellar movie Once which features the lead singer/guitarist of the Frames, and now I'm a big fan. I say The Frames were Most Inspirational not only because of their moving music and lyrics, but also the way they had a woman in the audience sing their big hit "Falling Slowly" and it worked out so beautifully. It was one of the most affecting musical performances I've seen in a long, long time. If you're too cool or too hard for this music, well, fuck you. What a wonderful band.

Next was Steve Earle. Steve Earle is allegedly an alt country favorite. Why then were most of the audience fat white trash? Isn't the main difference between alt country and good ol' regular country that the fans of the former are hipsters and the fans of the latter are stupid people? Apparently I'm missing something, but I thought it was crap. Oh, sorry. I'm being mean again. I meant, "not my cup of tea."

The last thing I saw was a couple of songs by an experimental band, My Brightest Diamond. That was awesome. And then I went to the Indie Mart, which was closing up shop for the night and I got a copy of a back issue of McSweeney's for only $6! Yay. I Heart McSweeney's.
Monday was a bit bittersweet because it had that "circus is leaving town" melancholy feel. Also sad was the fact that I had to miss Miranda July (too crowded) and Wu Tang Clan (too late).

In all, Bumbershoot was awesome, like always. There are certain facts about Bumbershoot that have been true every single year since I've started going ten years ago. Follow these rules and you will be fine.
Bumberrules
1) You will not get to see everything you want to see.
2) Expect some physical discomfort (rain, heat, footwear issues, some asshole hackeysacking into your head).
3) The food is crappy and expensive.
4) Take the bus or get a ride. Parking's a bitch.
5) Check out some things you haven't heard of. The point is to check out new things without already knowing you like them. Every year, I do this and every year, I get into a new band as a result. Some good examples of this for me are Brazilian Girls, Gogol Bordello, Cat Power. Before Bumbershoot, I hadn't heard them and now I'm a fan.
6) Wear layers and sunblock!
7) Have fun.
8) It's all happening for a reason.

Until next year, I'll just be happy with the great memories. Bye-bye Bumbershoot!
*Funny story. Saturday morning, Julissa jokingly wailed over the phone about her clothes and shoes that she'd look like Enid from Ghost World. I said, "Oh, don't worry… I look like her friend, the blonde." She said, "Oh, you mean SCARLETT JOHANSSON!??" So funny. I forgot she was Thora Birch's friend in that film. Some comfort I am! Anyway, Julissa ROCKS and she's a huge part of why Bumbershoot was so fun for me this year.