Seattle Journal Entry

I’m currently sitting at the Caffe Vita, a coffee house in Capitol Hill, Seattle. Even had I forgotten the name of the establishment, all I would have to do is look to my right, out the 2nd-story window to the large, theater-style neon sign, black with white and red lights. This place was recommended by a girl I have been in recent contact with, and with whom I have unexpectedly become infatuated. This particular attraction, however, is different than previous ones I have experienced – it’s less rational and explainable, more instinctual and natural, like an unspoken complicity between old friends. She is very smart, quick-to-the-draw, and she has beautiful eyes that grab and pull your attention like a strong rope over the side of a ship.

I love this city, her city. We are playing tonight at El Corazon, a pretty cool venue that we usually play when in Seattle. The staff is generally unfriendly, but they usually give us a couple free beers each, and they carry my favorite Seattle microbrew, Mac & Jack’s African Amber Ale. The fact that this can change my opinion about a venue is evidence that I have become quite the beer dork. In fact, after the show, a number of us will be heading to my favorite bar, the Stumbling Monk, also in Capitol Hill. It is quiet, and specializes in Belgian, monk-made beer, which is my favorite kind. The monks are creative and colorful, believe it or not, and tend to produce vibrant, sweet draughts. See, a total dork…

I am listening to jazz on my iPod right now – something I should do much more often. For some reason, just being in this town is inspiring. Perhaps it is the cold, the coffee, the clouds. I’m not sure. But I feel like I will end up living here someday not too far away, and I am already excited. I should also journal more often. We will be in Mexico soon, writing and doing pre-production for the next album, and if I make an effort, I can set up a schedule for myself that would include journaling. I should do that. I think I’m going to do that.

Sometimes I feel like the only thing I ever want from a coffee shop is silence. It’s hard to read, to write, even to think when there is music playing. And I often feel that the music choices in coffee shops are especially hip – a declaration from the lonely barista to any eligible, attractive customers that he/she is in fact COOL and DISCERNING, that this coffee gig is just TEMPORARY, but Man, I got some real big plans, REAL BIG. In the meantime, however, I will prepare for them by soaking myself in as much 80s BritPop and contemporary EuroPop as possible. And hey, cool Massive Attack sticker.

All this wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t in turn make ME self-conscious. Am I just another type of hipster, the kind of glorifies the Get Up Kids instead of Joy Division? Do my songs MEAN anything or am I just facilitating the toe-tapping, energy drink-related weekend habits of white suburban teenagers? This question, however, is too tough, to close, and I am leaving it where it sits tonight, on top of a stack of napkins, next to some straws and a carafe of half & half. I could go try and work on some new songs, if only someone would turn Morrissey down…

Happy but sad,
Smiling but lonely,
Hip but tragically unhip,
Dan.