I love the Starbuck’s Stage, and will always love it, because there I saw Nada Surf. I am happy they weren’t the mainstage show.This was so close, so tight, so intimate. We swayed to Inside of Love. They always perform above and beyond, always. Sweep you in they do. The band has charisma pouring out of their charming smiles. Daniel Lorca was out of commission with a bad knee or something. I missed his dreds, but the bassist was still superb.
I met them afterwards. The John Travolta Mullet was behind us in line. Which was not large considering. I would have waited if all the bumbershoots of Bumbershoot had come – which I thought was likely.
Matthew Caws (Nada Surf surfer-blond lead): “Hi, I’m Matthew.”
Molly: “Matthew – it’s so nice to meet you. My name is Molly. Blah blah blah blah bleh.”
He did. He – Matthew – signed my arm with an inky black pen. He signs his name like a little boy. No last name, just “Matthew” with an exclamation mark, like this: Matthew! Because his name is exciting. It is washed off of my arm. It is still etched on my heart.
Ira Elliott (drummer): “I’m Ira.”
Molly: “Ira. I’m Molly. Bleh bleh bleh.”
Ira: “I’ve signed two breasts today. That’s when you know you’ve risen to a new level of weirdness.”
Molly: “Arm will be just fine.”
Ira: “I’ll make this so black and so inky that it never comes off. Never wash it. Ever. Ever.”
I did wash it. I have to be sanitary. It’s part of me. But his name is still there inked on somewhere. I feel it inside of me.
We got a picture.
Ira: “Shall we stand boy-girl, boy-girl?” he was Danny Kaye from White Christmas, stunning – “With you in the middle” he closed – my heart was in my mouth.
We took the picture. The camera wasn’t used to such iffy lighting. It captured me with two faces: one looked at Ira. One looked at Matthew. Both grinned like fools.
Rachel: “Are you gonna stay around for a while and see Seattle? Get some rest after the concert?”
Matthew, charming smile: “We’re playing for a Nike race in the morning. Free shoes.”
P.S. the picture is currently in the black hole of hilary’s camera. the camera cord is lost. it is still imprinted on my heart.