Farewell Tim
Dear Tim,
Now that you’ve graduated from SCC, what are your plans?
Plans? Your question assumes I know what that word means. Is that Latin for weed?
If that’s the case, I’ve got a pound of them. You know, I wish they gave you plans
when you left here, other the installment plan for your student loans. Most popular
advice seems to be: Good job, kid. Now go pay for a real education. By the way,
this requires more than $1000/quarter. Sorry. Whenever I mention that I’m going
into the work force, people get a puzzled look as though I’d told them SCC was
just named Rolling Stone’s Party School of the Year. Rather than spending money
on a snoozer graduation ceremony, they should tell you how to make a livable wage
in this town without having to strip at the Lusty Lady (incidentally, not a bad place if
you’re a customer). I didn’t go to my graduation ceremony based on an aversion
to our school colors. Forest green and bright yellow remind me of a day in the mid-80’s
watching my mom perm her hair for a performance of Silent Night in our church choir.
Not to mention our mascot. I’ll never know what was wrong with the samurai. How
can that be offensive compared to a Dolphin brandishing sharp teeth and a perverted
grin? I’ve got an idea: how about a rainbow unicorn? Horses are neat-o, too.
Dear Tim,
Will you still take questions after you leave the Ebbtide?
There’s nothing free in life except a set of knives when you order Martha Stewart’s
new book, “Fuckit, Commin'’ At Ya Straight Outta Nantucket” and my advice is no
exception. You people should be paying me in gold instead of wooden nickels like the
Ebbtide. I did get a cathartic release out of spilling my guts every couple weeks, but
come on! A man’s gotta eat. A beverage would be nice as well. You’d think I’d be
able to get a job here in the wealthiest country in the world, even with a two-year stoner
art degree disguised by the word “Design.” Only time will tell. Hopefully, a lot of time
and God spares me the sweat and toil that I’ve been dreading. Money is nice to have,
though. Especially when you’re trying replace a mattress assembled out of cigarette
butts and Olympia cans.
Dear Tim,
Are you going to see any music this summer?
Well, I went to the Gorge for Sasquatch and almost died of heat stroke. Or was from
looking at all those thinly-clad girls in their bras, I mean bikini tops? Kanye West did
a masterful job. Entertaining a 110 percent white audience is not easy. Why wasn’t he
headlining? My God, the Pixies sounded and looked unfit for a human trash compactor,
let alone 20,000 people. Frank Black sounded as if he had a bald midget operating a
blowtorch in his larynx after repeated rehearsals of “Planet of Sound.” Also, if there is
a God, may he never make me hear “Where Is My Mind” again, especially when sung
by a group of frat boys who learned the lyrics (incorrectly) on the drive over. Unfortunately,
the music scene sort of dries up here and you have to see these big-ass shows where you
feel like a cog in the wheel of a corporate anus. Something about waiting three hours to
get an $8 can of Zima makes me want to avoid festival shows altogether, albeit the ones
where drugs are legal and you can bring in a cooler. Too bad these are limited to old
hippies. Summer shows suck. Besides, who wants to hole up in the Croc or Neumo’s
during nice weather? For god’s sake, go outside for the 10 nice days we get a year!
Go climb a mountain or something. You know, those big, jagged things that surround
the city? Yes, those are real. They’re not just painted on the skyline for you to say,
“cool sunset, dude.” Hell, you could be in New York sweating your balls off. Okay,
maybe that’s a bad example since NYC on a saturday night makes this place look like
a retirement complex in Squim.
Dear Tim,
I just moved here. What is there to do during the summer months?
Wait for the clouds to pass, which is what the rest of us have been doing
since last October. Summer is elusive here. It can be hot in May, like it
was at Sasquatch, up near 90 degrees, forcing many a pale hipster to cut up
their Death Cab shirts and make a sun tent. The day after the show, I felt like
I woke up in Nova Scotia in mid-January. In a Speedo. That summer feeling
you’ve been searching won’t be unearthed in Seattle. If lucky, you get to go
outside one night the whole year without wearing three shirts and a down
parka underneath a rain shell with your teeth chattering your head off. Enjoy.
Dear Tim,
As a graduate, do you have any advice for new students?
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It’s tiring to impart meaning on a bleak, nondescript landscape, but, hey, life
is what you make it. I made mine a double vodka on the rocks and it worked
out pretty well. As far as I know. There is meaning everywhere, even in the
bedrock of this oddly designed, Japanese-LSD-inspired architecture.
Although the strip malls and fast food you pass by on Aurora make you feel
like SCC could be anywhere BUT Seattle, you have to learn to see beyond
that, to your next step... as in getting the hell out of here. If you try to enjoy
Shoreline you might just overstay your welcome like I did. I thought, “Damn,
I kind of like it here, all the pretty girls and chill instructors who give me 4.0’s
for checking my email and playing with a box of crayons.” Now, I’ve been here
so long I know the janitors on a first name basis. Maybe this is where I should
concentrate my efforts, networking with these dudes. My advice is to view
SCC with a certain amount of distaste. This shouldn’t be too hard if you try
the fish and chips at the Pub at about 4pm. Those heat lamps really do work.
And with those sacred words, Tim is leaving this popsicle keg stand and
heading straight for the top. Wish him well as the new CEO of Apple Computers.
Continue to send Unanswerable Questions to:
webbtide@yahoo.com
Hopefully, those stupid people will stop writing now, Tim
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Tim, my son, we’re so proud of all your hard work
at the Ebbtide. Obviously you can’t be a
writer but you’re going to make a fine Repulican some day.
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