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By the time we’re cracking open fortune cookies, Bruce Pavitt and I find ourselves talking about Kurt Cobain and the idea of seclusion. That someone like Kurt, beautiful and stirring, at the height of world fame, needed the confidence and compassion of an inner circle of people to talk with. Kurt never seemed to have that—for whatever reason—says Bruce, solemnness to his voice.

It is the end of a fascinating conversation, with me mostly listening to the stories Bruce has about the genesis of the record label he founded—Sub Pop—his first record player, his forthcoming two books—one about a week in Europe with a crumbling Nirvana, the other a collection of his writings about Independent rock groups—and the idea of being relentless in the pursuit of your own aspirations.

Sutra, the restaurant film director Megan Griffiths chose for our rendezvous, is a cute little spot on the west end of Wallingford next door to a yoga studio of the same name. It serves delicacies like edible flowers from their backyard garden and begins each service with a gong and a moment of thanks for farmers. The whole thing is a stark contrast to the dark, human trafficking subject matter of Megan’s recent film, Eden, but somehow we found ourselves sharing a table ready to eat some artisan vegan cuisine, and set to talk movies.

John Roderick stood center stage at the Alberta-Rose Theater in Portland, OR, telling jokes, stories and, later, playing his acoustic guitar, singing to the hundreds in the audience for NPR’s Live Wire show. A tall man, bearded, with glasses and a booming voice, John entertained. I was in the audience, having been given tickets by mutual friend and host of the show, Luke Burbank. I stared on attentively, listening to John’s stories and quips as he went back and forth with Luke.

I think about this performance now – about a month later – as I sit at the bar of Ruth’s Chris steakhouse in downtown Seattle waiting for John to come meet me for an interview. He strolls into the place a few minutes before seven. We shake hands and go to our table.

I was late. Dawn Trudeau, co-owner of the Seattle WNBA basketball team, The Storm, was punctual. A businesswoman, self-made and supremely successful, of course she was on time. You don’t move from assembly line in Michigan to owner of a professional sports team by being sloppy. She was gracious – not batting an eyelash at my arrival to Queen Anne’s Obasan nearly 10 minutes late of 6:30PM.

The night before, the NBA’s Miami Heat and San Antonio Spurs participated in one of the most epic and entertaining Finals games in history – an overtime contest capped by an unthinkable three-pointer by former Seattle SuperSonic, and current Heat player, Ray Allen. Sipping Sapporos in this quaint little Japanese restaurant, of course we began our conversation with basketball.

Okay, so we just drank water. Well, I was finishing off an iced latte from a coffee place up the street. It was early – we met around 11am at Obasan, a quaint Japanese place in Queen Anne that has, coincidentally, my new favorite noodle dish: Yakisoba with tofu and no mushrooms. Marco Collins, the former Program Director for The End and expert with chopsticks, ordered the tuna rolls and teriyaki chicken.