• Joan Hiller

Ben Bishop, of the defunct band Calaver, writes very honestly in the paper this week about trying to be a successful band, having big hopes, giving it your all, and the humiliation of totally falling on your face in public:

Playing a community center in Kirkland for a crowd with an average age of 12? Check. Agreeing to play a "festival" that turned out to be a Mennonite farmers market in Central Washington at 11 in the morning? Double check. Having the bartender at the Comet Tavern put on an extreme grind record in the middle of our final song because he didn't even realize we were still playing? If it hadn't happened to me, I wouldn't believe the story.

The ever-supportive music community—or at least the first eight comments on the story so far—are classic Seattle frost: Basically, the response so far has been FUCK YOU FOR TRYING, YOU ARROGANT FUCKSTICK! To wit, "Your problem is that you didn't move to Portland, the promised land for whiny, self-pitying indie boys." And, "Seriously. Fuck You... My GOD you infuriate me." And, "Moving to Seattle to make it as a band? It isn't 1993."

You commenters crack me up. It's a great piece about failure—honest, specific, self-effacing, unsparing. Check it out.