HAS ANYONE SEEN SUMMER?
We haven't wanted to say anything about this because we didn't want to jinx it, but it's time. Seattle, it hasn't been summer all summer. July was a joke. Our internal drummer did a slow-mo tom-tom solo for a month, and then it got worse. COME THE FUCK ON WITH THIS THUNDERCLOUD NONSENSE. From July 4 to October 1, we're supposed to be swimming around in a liquid sapphire, getting sun-dumb at the beach all day, and blaming all inactivity on the fact that our sun daddy visits only once a year and he'll yell at us if we don't show up and say hi. That hasn't happened. What has happened is we've had to wake up almost every day to close our window and cough because it's too chilly, and submit to the fact that we have to wear jeans again today, a decision we then regret when the sun does finally decide to show its face around 3 p.m. Cloud, get out of the way and let the sun shine through. We miss it.
A FUNNY SIGHT AT FREMONT'S DAYBREAK RECORDS
On Saturday night in Fremont, we saw you, the owner of the new Daybreak Records, accept a beer from a passing pedestrian, who handed it to you through the open window of your establishment while Michael McDonald's "I Keep Forgettin' (Every Time You're Near)" languidly oozed over the PA. You and the passerby clinked beer bottles and exchanged pleasantries. We looked to see if there were movie cameras nearby, as this struck us as a scene out of a Cameron Crowe film. But, alas, no.
10-YEAR-OLD TALKS PIERCINGS AND POKÉMON ON THE BUS
We saw you on the D Line bus in downtown on a Saturday evening talking animatedly with your, uh, older sister? Babysitter? Cool mom? You couldn't have been more than 10 years old, but you chattered about how you were considering getting a nose piercing when you were of age. You did have one reservation: dealing with prejudiced employers who might not hire you with a facial piercing. "It's so dumb that they would judge you for that and not on your work!" you said, wise beyond your years. Your older companion agreed. You then went on to joke about getting a Magikarp, a seemingly useless (but secretly powerful) fish Pokémon, tattooed on your arm. You then meme-ified it: "You know what would be funny? If it said 'Keep struggling!' and 'Follow your dreams!' under it!" Stay cool, kid.
MEN WITH HEAVY BAGS DISCUSS ROMANTIC BAGGAGE
You were on Pike Street crossing Third Avenue wearing a heavy black bag slung across your skinny middle-aged body. It was 1 p.m. on a hot Thursday, but you had a black leather jacket stretched over your bag. A green water bottle, empty, jutted out of one side pocket. Your blue jeans were loose, and your white shirt with thin navy stripes said on the left short sleeve "Calvin Klein Golf." You had a wide smile and big, friendly eyes. Another middle-aged man with a black duffel walked next to you. "Everyone worships something," you told him. "I used to worship the female. That's just satanic." The other man wasn't sure how hard to laugh, so he shook his head a little and smiled. "Yeah," he told you weakly. You replied, "You worship women, that's the end of you!" The other man laughed louder this time, and you disappeared together passing through a bus stop crowd.
"IF IT WEREN'T FOR THE RACISM, THE REPUBLICAN PARTY WOULD BE THE MUSLIM PARTY"
We saw you driving a Lyft car. You were heading toward 23rd and Cherry. You said you were from Somalia. You were talking about Donald Trump, who hasn't been doing well in the polls. You said: "I'm a Muslim, and I can tell you that if it weren't for the racism, the Republican Party would be the Muslim party. We agree more with the way they think than the liberals. But the racism is just too much, and so we vote Democrat."
RAYBURN FAMILY VALUES
We saw you passive-aggressively, then, frankly, aggressively-aggressively conspire to keep your eldest brother, Danny, at arm's length from your family's nuclear core, never hesitating to blame him for his own estrangement. We saw you screw him over endlessly while preserving the myth that your family name was so important that any awful thing you did in the service of protecting it would be justified. But then we saw what you did on that beach, and we took queasy, tense pleasure in seeing the dominoes Danny had set in place begin to fall. Bloodline, your family drama has more complexity than the Greeks', and we spent 23 of the weekend's 60 hours watching it unfold, horribly. And we can't wait until you're back with a third season next year.