my date with patty griffin

My name is Brett, and I'm a music lover. Sadly, there's no twelve-step program for me; I'm pretty much stuck with all the melodies, great lyrics, and drum beats (electronic and actual) floating through my brain. Nothing I've created myself, mind you, just all the really good stuff that other people make.

For the most part, liking music is a good thing. I think. Just like a movie, life tends to be a little bland without a soundtrack. I heard a musician say one-time that his job was to help people get to the deepest parts of their emotions, deeper than they could ever get on their own. It was probably Ryan Adams that said that. He says some really smart things and some really drug induced things that I would never think of in my own only-kind-of-smart-non-drug-induced world.

There are, however, a few problems with me liking music. Like the ridiculous amount of green pieces of paper I push towards buying music and going to concerts. Or the lack of quieteness in my days. Or the fact that I'm probably not hearing the words coming out of your mouth if good music is on in the background.

Cue Zen. Zen would be this great Japanese mildy-fast-food place to check out if you live in Austin. It's on Guadalupe between 34th and 35th. I went there once in the spirit of all things new, and now I'm hooked. Part of that hooked-ness is from the great music they play there. It kind of makes me feel like someone stole my iPod and put it on random... and that makes me feel good and validated.

The other day I was there eating lunch and in walked Patty Griffin. (You know that great Dixie Chicks song "Top of the World" that forced you to lend them musical credibility? Patty Griffin wrote that, so take their musical credibility away and give it back to her.) You can imagine my initial excitement as a huge Patty Griffin fan. There was someone that was an integral part of the soundtrack of my life, sitting mere feet away from me.

As I saw it I basically had four options: (1) Tell her I was her biggest fan and get her to sign the back of my hand. (2) Pretend as though I didn't know who she was. (3) Leave her alone, letting her live a normal, non-semi-famous style life. [This would look the same as (2), but with attempted eye/smile contact] (4) Ask her out on a date, acting as though I had no idea who she was, while dropping a few obscure lyrics of hers here and there in an attempt to give myself some amount of allure.

It then dawned on me that Patty Griffin had no idea who I was. And that I had a ridiculous amount of insight into her thoughts, feelings, and talents inspite of the fact that she had no idea who I was. That weirded me out a little bit, b/c it meant our connection was really one-sided. That I cared a great deal for her, while she cared no more for me than for anyone else she didn't know. If she wasn't a celebrity that would make me a stalker. Instead that makes me a fan. (By the way, I promise that stalking isn't a theme of this blog, even though that's 2 mentions in 2 posts.)

I decided that the only way to end me being weirded out about all of this was to go with option (4), and ask Patty Griffin on a date. Which is what I would have done if I hadn't just left her alone.