Sedaris slept overnight in Spokane

First...I admit it: I sometimes plan too many things for one day, my To Do is a tad unrealistic. I'm optimistic and underestimate the time needed and the actual time I have. I overestimate my stamina and ability to stay focused and on-task; other opportunities arise and I say "yes" to them.

But I did meet David Sedaris yesterday. He is smaller than I imagined him to be. Shorter, yes, but also just a smaller presence (maybe small head, too), and smaller-boned, which doesn't seem to fit his writing which is bold and declarative and in-your-face funny. And the pictures of him on the back of his book make him look tall and skinny. But really, he's just skinny and kind of short, for a guy. (See Jeremy's pictures.)

I took a brief break from taking tickets at the door and cut in line in front of Ashley (another MFA poet) to ask Sedaris to sign my copy of Barrel Fever. (Before leaving my house, after franticly looking for my copy of Holidays on Ice, I remembered that I loaned it to my mother and it's still sitting on the guest-room dresser at their house near Seattle.)

Sedaris asked me, "What's that smell? You smell 'fresh'." I was confused for a second, then felt somewhat embarrased when I remembered that I had sprayed some Victoria Secret's "Love Spell" (the purple bottle) on my skin. My fiance hates it, says it smells like canteloupe and he hates canteloupe. He calls it "Love Repell" and so I only wear it when I'm not going to be anywhere near my fiance. That's why I impulsively put a little on before dashing downtown. (I only have a little over three months to use up the last of it.)

So I ended up telling Sedaris the whole story behind the smell. He chuckled as put two mushroom stamps on the title page of my book (my copy of his book) and signed it for me. I thought he might mention something about me having the same name as his sister, and how much he loves that name. But he didn't. Instead, I blabbed about "Love Spell" as the next five people in line heard my story as well. I think a fit of nervousness came over me. But at least I made Sedaris laugh!

During the Q & A, he talked about how he likes to ask a question of each person who asks him to sign a book. Maybe he'll put our encounter in his diary and read that at a future reading.

April 22, 2005: Spokane, WA
This woman in the book signing line came up to me and smelled, so I asked her, "What's that smell?" . . . .

Hopefully he didn't find it repulsive. He did roll his eyes around in circles when I told him it was called "Love Spell" as if to mimic its name. He probably did find it bearable, at least, or else he wouldn't have brought it up.

Which reminds me that I had to sit near a really smell man throughout the entire Sedaris reading, and it burned my eyes. As a volunteer, I didn't have a seat for the sold-out show. So I had to either stand in the back or sit on the floor. I found a little nook in the back handicapped section, which was actually used for overflow seating. I was told there would be no late seating, but during the second essay or so this man was escorted into our area and given a metal seat (like those found in church basements) to sit on. It was too dark to see what he looked like, and I didn't want to be rude and stare, and I wanted to stay focused on what Sedaris was reading onstage. But as soon as he sat down, everything came wafting towards me. It immediately made me think to myself, "Is this man homeless?" He had dreadlock like hair, I could tell that much. Maybe it was his shoes, more than body odor. It was like how my wet socks smell after a two-day backpacking trip. It was a sour, pungent smell, and wasn't that horrible compared to what it could have been. I realized that is why the man's seat was placed behind where I was sitting, against the wall, rather than next to the other chairs and the guests sitting in rows. There was obvious room for his chair to join their rows. The man who escorted him there, the theatre manager I think, must have known he smelled. Since tickets were $40 for non-students, I couldn't figure out how this man got there. Maybe he didn't know his shoes were so stinky. And of course, since I was sitting on the floor, maybe I was the only person who realized it. He had a deep laugh and expressed it heartily throughout the rest of the reading. I was glad he was enjoying himself. Later, I saw him in the balcony drinking a can of pop and walking back down to the first level. He staggered like a drunk. Maybe that wasn't soda in the can. Again, it was too dark to tell. But his skin looked clean enough. It was bizarre.

After Sedaris, the rest of the evening was not very interesting. What reader (either nonfiction writer or poet) wants to follow Sedaris? Of course they won't be as funny! I was too impressed by Sedaris, who I'm sure shocked the Spokane crowd with his "dirty" essays (as he referred to one, after reading it), to be objective to the two other guys. And over half of the 700-person audience had left at intermission.

Still, it was a worthwhile evening. New York doesn't come to Spokane very often. And it's really, really interesting to see who comes to see a writer like Sedaris. It's like all the cool literary readers of Spokane were at the Met, along with all the devoted NPR listeners from Moses Lake to Couer d'Alene--a mostly grey-haired crowd, I think. This one woman, also sitting in my area, laughed so loud. She was the loudest in the theatre. I would watch her and thought she was going to fall back in her chair, her guffaws were so forceful. And she was a big woman. When Sedaris said, before wrapping up the Q & A, "If Sues is here, I'll see you at the front," she yelled, "Yay!"

P.S. I did finish my Lopate technique journal, had a great run with Emerson (it was so warm and sunny I wore shorts & T-shirt for the first time since Sept.), I thought about poetry, did an errand at Paper Plus (to solve a problem that arose unexpectedly), and went grocery shopping after Sedaris.