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Sunday, September 5, 2004 - Page updated at 12:00 AM

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My Bumbershoot: Surviving Bumbershoot at age 36

Filmmaker

Editor's Note: We've asked about a dozen artists participating in Bumbershoot to send us dispatches about their Bumbershoot experience. Check for them every day as part of our Bumbershoot coverage.
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Friday, 4:20 p.m. My neck is stiff. My co-writer, Rich Robinson, and I have just gotten off a long flight. We are guests of the 1-Reel Film Festival, where our film "Breaking the Mold" is a finalist.

4:57 p.m. We arrive at the festival and realize that we are about twice the age of just about anyone in the throngs around us. Our self-esteem suffers, and both Rich and I begin to feel the effects of jet lag.

5:40 p.m. We walk around, sampling the fried dough, strawberry shortcakes, Tibetan fritters, and curly fries in the hopes that it will help us feel better about ourselves. Instead, my stiff neck seems to get worse. Rich and I stop at the massage booth and Tom, the leader of the massage team, rubs my neck. At the massage tables around me, I spot a few people who are closer to my age. They seem to have stiff necks, too.

8:05 p.m. Rich and I see Death Cab for Cutie and the air is electric. We are surrounded by skinny 14-year-old boys who are hitting each other with giant inflatable Hulk hammers.

The band plays their melancholy brand of pop, yet the 14-year-olds defy the slow rhythm by moshing and crowd surfing. The lead singer of Death Cab remarks, "I can't remember the last time we had anything resembling a mosh pit."

8:23 p.m. Looking for solace and maybe a soul mate, I notice that the couple next to us seems a little older and more sedate. Drew, 24, and his girlfriend, Janine, tell me that they've been coming to the festival for 3 years. Drew notices that Rich and I are a little older and mentions that our presence is "definitely pushing up the mean age at the festival." I decide to talk to someone else.

8:25 p.m. I meet Brian, 30, who explains that he would be in the mosh pit but he has a bad back. His girlfriend, Tess, 27, chimes in that she has a bad knee. I finally feel a connection. I point them toward the massage booth.

8:50 p.m. We leave before the concert is over. My neck starts to ache a little. Only three more days to go. I hope Tom and his massage people are ready for me.

Copyright © 2004 The Seattle Times Company

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