It’s been some time since I’ve brought up my obsession. Sure, there’s the baking and writing thing, but the third in this trilogy is Mikel Jollett. With Mikel faced cookies dancing in my head, I’m no closer to my goal of us being best friends as I was at the beginning of the year.
This summer a band came to Southern Oregon. A real live, gaining popularity, and even performed on Glee band. Shocking, I know! It was in that night of lemon drops and confetti cannons that I realized The Airborne Toxic Event could stand on that same stage if I got my act into gear. The first step was taking a picture of the large crowd filled outdoor event and tweet it to the band with the most witty caption of “You should be here.” Who wouldn’t be tempted by blurry faceless people on a random internet shout out? Uh…no response.
I wasn’t too surprised not to hear anything back from a tweet. They must get like several thousand a day. (This is one area where authors are the bigger rock stars because they respond pretty frequently. Insert here my excitement that Dan Krokos tweeted his liking of the cake push ups for his book.) Back to the band. The next day while I nursed my hangover I committed to work on bringing The Airborne Toxic Event to the Britt Festival. I needed a plan.
The first step involved writing the organizers to see how difficult it was to bring a band to them. The first email was answered pretty quickly with the “you contacted the wrong person” note. She pointed me in the right direction of the entertainment director. I fired off another email to the correct person with supporting documentation of the awesomeness of The Airborne Toxic Event’s live shows and the proven popularity in television show appearances. There were even links to YouTube videos and the call out to their accompanying string section The Calder Quartet who played Britt this year. I explained it was my theory they’d release their third album in the spring and the summer concert series would be the perfect place for them to perform. The response? None.
When I discuss this process with my bestie, she says I’m not putting enough Andy Dufraine into it. I need to barrage everyone with letters on a daily basis and soon the wardens of entertainment will fill our prison library with TATE songs. I must admit my correspondence did not pick up. Instead, I grumbled silently about why was it so hard to have them come to Southern Oregon. And why didn’t I follow my dreams of becoming an A&R Director. Oh wait, I digress.
I wrote the Britt Festival again. And this time I got an answer — NO. Actually the answer was TATE is too small for the largeness of the venue. After the director sent his first email with his initial no, he did send another and (probably after he looked into the research supplied) said they were bigger than he first thought. The director informed they are building a littler stage for these types of smaller acts. He also directed me to still contact the band to share my enthusiasm of them coming to my little town. I’m pretty sure this was a ploy to redirect my Andy Dufraine.
So here we are. I’m on the cusp of writing the band’s management to state my desire and highlight Britt Festivals’ dig about TATE being too small for Southern Oregon. I’m hoping spite will force TATE to put my little town on their tour map. My complete fantasy includes TATE coming over to my house before the show for a barbecue where we all realize how much we have in common and become life long friends. I think I’ll wait to share my idea of the head shaped cookies until we’ve established I’m not a crazy person. We’ll chat about how perseverance pays off, dreams do come true, and if you really want to do something, “You better get busy living or get busy dying.”