say yes

In addition to being one of my favorite Elliott Smith songs, 'say yes' is a rule I am trying to live by. Too often, when someone invites me to do something, my first response is 'no' & I have to be pushed into the 'yes' column. I wish I was opposite. I don't know how I got to be this way, but I'm working to retrain myself.

Last night, the plan was to cook up some eggplant parm, clean my room, and have my weekly date with Ira. After I finished dinner, A called, inviting me to go out & hear a singer-songwriter. My first thought was 'no,' that I would rather stay in, lying in my bed and listening to Ira's stories. It was a new episode, after all. But I said yes. And it was good. The show was at Doug Fir, which A accurately described as something out of The Brady Bunch. It is very 70s; I suppose that is hip with the kids these days. The bathroom walls are all gold-veined mirrors, the downstairs music area feels like a basement rec room. There are yellow lights in the floors. There is an attached hotel. A hipster's Kennedy School, perhaps?

The music was good. We were the second- and third- to last people to get into the sold out show. The singer had a beautiful voice, a bit strangly warbly - she never seemed to hit a note straight on, always starting sharp or flat & gliding into it. She had friends in the audience who joined her on stage for a song or two. One of them played the concertina. She sang a painfully earnest song about adolesence & was painfully embarrassed about it. Very cute.

The Shout Out Louds are playing there next week. I might go.

More yes saying: I'm meeting up with N, the bike boy of last week tomorrow night. We shared a bizarre, awkward, brief phone conversation last night. Doesn't bode too well. We're meeting up at Powell's. He likes books. I like books. That's promising. If the conversation falters too terribly, we can always walk across the street and catch The Life Aquatic at the Bagdad.