Walking north on first toward Elysian Fields for a beer, Saturday afternoon. Past Safeco where the ball game is in session and is being broadcast out onto the street, across a street that leads toward Qwest field, and suddenly the air is filled with U2's Adam Clayton's deep bass notes. The sound falls to us and thumps in our bellies and I can't help but breathe deeper and stand perfectly still for just a minute. My mood lightens and all I want to do is follow the noise, it beckons me, fishhooks in my brain.
We sat in the bar and had a beer. Outside is the parking lot for Qwest, filled with people waiting to head in for the concert. While we're sitting inside, the bar music is actually playing a U2 song while U2 is warming up with a different song, muddy and warped by the stadium and the walls, but it's U2 and any U2 is good U2. Oh, how I wish I'd thought to get tickets, but there is something really cool about just having been in that place at that time hearing what we heard.
Had The Unwanteds, by Lisa McCann, in my bag, put it on the counter next to my beer (Prometheus IPA, by the way) and did not even open it up. I just sat there, all jumpy and breathy inside my self, silently squealing and squeezing all my muscles tight. Wanting to get up and do big things, the music makes me want to walk with great long strides, swinging my arms, taking up a lot of space as I go.
That Christmas I spent in a Cyclone shelter.
3 months ago