Kimya & Augusten

I've often said my favorite part of Juno had to be the soundtrack. And with my days of being lazy, I have basically just resorted to MySpace stalking minor celebrities.  Not anyone too tacky, just like Leigh Lezark and the Misshapes cohorts, the cast of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia", Augusten Burroughs, and now Kimya Dawson and her husby, Angelo Spencer. He sure is cute as hell. And look at their baby! Bitch could kick Suri Cruise's ass out of...wherever babies enjoy fighting. 

The other day (two Sundays ago?) I met Augusten Burroughs. It happened in a rather strange way, in that one of my BFFFFFFFFFFs Brian, got cancelled on the Saturday night before, so we decided to go to Midtown, and naturally he wanted to go to the gay bookstore, (but is it natural?) the famed Outwrite. We walk into Outwrite and their is what could only be described as a shrine devoted to the god of the gay memoir(or maybe that would be Sedaris, at any rate), Augusten Burroughs. All the shit was piled high. DVDs of Running With Scissors, hardbacks, softbacks, books on tape, all neatly stacked in a way that seems like it could be achieved only by a gay man. I had heard about his new book, "A Wolf at the Table" and wondered if this was the point of all this jazz. Well. Partially. Outwrite was giving away tickets to the event they were hosting, a reading by Augusten Burroughs the very next night. We got two.

Brian couldn't go because he actually has shit to do, so I invited my mom. We dressed up casually chic and drove to the Alliance Theatre. When we walked in these two girls dressed like goth/emoish were trying to find the theatre and I'd been there dozens of times, so I was a little snotty. All you do is follow the signs. When we got to the lobby/bar area there were 4 long competitive lines and mutti got us a good place in one. I spent $2.50 on a can of diet coke, and waited in line feeling fabulous. Over time I was beginning to feel pretty lame, I only have one of his books, a softcover of his seminal "Running With Scissors" that I bought at the thrift store, but some of these betches waiting in line besides me were pretty hard-fuckin-core. Like, they would have all his books, in hardcover, plus his brother, John Elder Robison's book. And be discussing all of them with their co-queuers. Some people had already read the new book, and not just the first 2 pages, like me. I love reading, but I am still too cheap or undignified or whatever to spend $27.00 on some depressing-ass book. I mean, I'm sure I will read it, eventually. But I already have Daddy issues. I don't need to pay a quarter of a pair of shoes to read about someone else's. His dad really did sound effed up. He was a sociopath. But so we eventually got herded into the theatre, and who should we end up sitting next to but those girls who asked us how to get into the theatre. I had a good chat with the one sitting closest next to me.  Either Palahniuk was her favorite and Burroughs was her friend's or the other way around. She wanted to discuss Palahniuk with me though. Out of his whole works I've only read "Guts" in it's entirety. I was BS-ing it. 

So finally after the speaker from the Alliance Theatre and the one from Outwrite, all the lights went out and they started playing one of three songs written for the book tour, inspired by "A Wolf At the Table". The song was "His Love" by Tegan Quin, from Tegan and Sara and it was utterly amazing. So far I've only been able to find it on www.augusten.com if anyone is actually reading this and wants to check it out.

But then after that song. Augusten came out. He was in what has been described as his "book tour outfit" which consisted of a leather jacket, a hard looking teeshirt, some nice darkwashes, a trucker hat, and some Gucci loafers. He's definitely lost some weight because he looked hot as shit. He did the reading, which was marvelous, I'd listen to him read the whole book. And then the whole Q&A yadda yadda yadda. Near the end of the Q&A people were leaving and I wondered why, and once we got back into the lobby it was blatantly apparent. I line that stretched longer then the bendy modernist couch. I told my mom I wanted to wait in the line. She said we'd have to leave if it took too long. But she just sat down on the bendy modernist couch and started reading some other book she pulled out of her huge Michael Kors Mary Poppins bag. People probably thought she was a huge traitor, or a Communist spy. Some lady behind me had already read the new book, and I asked her about something Augusten had mentioned at the reading. She thought this made me her line BFF. She kept talking to me the whole way up, which would be fine except then she wanted me to save a spot for her while she went and bought the only book she didn't have, right when we were about to be corralled into the most intense line (stretch dividers!). I told her I'd save her spot and people looked at me like I was the hugest asshole. I haven't saved someone's spot in line since probably 7th grade I'd estimate. The line was beginning to feel like the line to see Santa, with the asshole-o-meter at about December 21st. People were getting competitive. There was a guy frantically scribbling the proper spelling of your name onto a post-it and making sure you put it on the correct page, THE TITILE PAGE, just as I was frantically trying to think of what to say to Augusten. I was debating busting out my old-ass camera phone to take a picture, but that would probably cost at least 12 dollars to send to a current computer. Once you got to the front of the line, this cute hipster gay boy who obviously worked at Outwrite gets all name elf and asks you how you pronounce your name and goes and whispers it to Augusten and then when he says your name you're supposed to act like the guy didn't go tell him. See? Just. Like. Santa. I still had nothing to say, so I said "I've been waiting all week to meet you!" slightly insanely. Which was a huge lie. I had been waiting like 24 hours. I desperately wanted to be a person he remarked upon at later dates, the girl who goes up and says "Me too." about her dad, or asks a funny question. Or I could've asked about his dogs. But I chose to just lie. He was like, "Oh, kind of a let-down then, hm?" and I didn't know what to say back. 

That was much longer than expected. Or maybe not expected, necessary. 

1 comment:

sinatra please said...

i love you.
and i am a communist spy, just don't tell anyone.
way to be soo incredibly NOT willa.