Imagine you’re in New York City. You just had an interview that went really badly, you were late getting to the interview and your interviewer made a point to make a big deal out of it even though you called ahead to let them know… but that wasn’t even the worst of it. It looked like a hellish job and despite this guy being an asshole and the fact that you would work in the basement (making it closer to hell than you originally thought) you were about to take the job if he offered it to you. (Which they don’t, and don’t even bother calling you back when you inquire about it)
You decide to make the best out of the rest of your day, and figure, while you’re in the city, you’ll go to the Museum of Modern Art even though it’s really expensive to get in and you don’t have a lot of money (since you wasted so much on a train ticket on a wasted interview) because you don’t have a job because you quit your last one because you got kicked out of your girlfriend’s apartment and dumped rather badly. This is all hypothetical, of course.
You see some pretty amazing art. You see some things that you would rather not consider art. All in all, you’re having a pretty good time and things aren’t on your mind so heavily. You go into an enclosed exhibit — some pop art kind of stuff — and you’re not the only one in there. There’s another guy and what seemed to be his girlfriend in there, pointing things out to each other and they’re the ignorable type until you notice that this guy looks a lot like Elliott Smith. But you’re sure it’s not him and just a guy that looks A LOT like Elliott Smith so much to the point that it looks like he’s ripping off this style. Upon further inspection, you realize that it is actually Elliott Smith and not some guy just trying to rip off his style. The same Elliott Smith you had listened to on the way to New York.
Being the socially-awkward person that you are, you gawk for a moment but try not to make it noticeable, which probably makes it even more noticeable, which horrifies you completely and you hope to God that Elliott Smith or his girl friend (or is it girlfriend?) does not notice you. You think, what would a normal person do in this situation? Would a normal person just go up to him and like… shake his hand… or say… “Hey, I dig your music”…. or ask for an autograph… or a picture taken with him? Would a normal person just leave him alone? Would a normal person be writing about this in a blog seven years later? Hypothetically?
You decide not to make a scene and dash out of the exhibit as quickly (and as quietly) as possible. You almost leave, but you haven’t seen everything in the museum yet. And as you try to get into the other exhibits, you just can’t because your mind is on Elliott Smith and that girl he was with. Would you see him again in the museum? Would you see him outside? Would you regret not speaking to him? Who are you going to tell about this, no one else you know listens to him? (this is pre-Elliott Smith message board knowledge) Don’t you just want to scream like a little girl?
No, all you do is get back to Grand Central Terminal, get a seat on the train, write about it in your journal as…. you listen to his album, which right now (seven years later) you forget which one it was you were listening to.
I don’t have any other great stories about Elliott Smith himself. In comparison with a lot of people who met him and interacted (not just gawked) with him, my story is kind of lame. I would go on about how his music affected me and how the people I met because of him changed my entire life… or I could just go ahead and post lyrics or something… but I really don’t want to do any of that. I just want to remember that time I saw him at MoMA and how he looked healthy and happy and alive and like he was enjoying himself at the museum just like I was.