Part 1

Learn To Love To Live With Nothing
"Summer 2008"

I forgot to mention something important in Chapter One, and it's important.

Through Performer Magazine I scored two tickets to the monstrous festival that is Sasquatch. I went with my life-long friend of equal wild, Zack*. Zack had recently acquired a cumbersome cast from falling down a cliff or something at Coachella. It was a perfect match. We are both crazy. He brought his girlfriend Rachel, who is a badass.

This is where and when I started to fantasize and actualize an attempt at becoming the Hunter S. Thompson of music journalism. Dress obliviously freakish, imbibe lots of drugs, and write with a ferocity.

Of course, Zack was the perfect Dr. Gonzo. Needless to say or really describe, we stood out from the rest of the folks with press credentials.
We sauntered around hopelessly high on whatever and intoxicated mostly out of our minds. I scribbed notes down intensely. I felt pretty good about my final article although the first night, once I recovered from the initial self-sabotage of the day, I dropped acid. It had been a while.

I lost myself in the teeming city of nomadic concert goers tents that were rising and breathing into the sky. I wandered away from my friends and was completely without direction of "home". It's important to Feel Good Lost. I know this now, because I am "homeless" or basically homeless on the road.

Even though my mind was surging and convulsing with the introduction of hallucinagenic invaders, I felt calm. Everything was as it should be, I mean, the sky was still breathing, but everything was okay.

(This is written on Sept 27th, around noon in the 4th Avenue bar in Olympia)

Wandering, I walked by a captivating young lady sitting on a towel next to one of the many paths in the labrinths of tent corriders.

I didn't really know what to do, but i sat down (after asking permission) and we started talking.

Of course, I was in no state of mind for even comprehending the concept of romance, but I felt a "connection". The LSD may have exaggerated the importance and I guess I don't even really remember what we talked about, but it was claer that we needed to be friends. And, thank Our Good Lord Jesus Christ, we did become friends, because thats why I am in Olympia, and comfortable, right now.... weird.

I got lost again after she brushed her teeth, we made plans to meet at some obscure noodle location and we traded phone numbers.... black out.

I woke up in the back of some unknown SUV... I guess I was asleep on some tall boys.

Considering that I didn't know whether or not I had broken into this car, or some kind samaritain had adopted my delusional self--- I opted not to steal the beers and just straight up flee from the situation.
It seemed appropriate.

I guess I will never know what happened.


Somehow, I made it back to our camp. Rachel and Zack were there and I think I feel back asleep (What's the difference between that and passing out? What's the difference between waking up and coming-to?)

We played Apples To Apples with our camp neighbors and they fed us fancy beer. More LSD was consumed.


When we finally checked into the press registration, a man there had our package ready. The dialogue went something like this:

ME: "How did you have my package ready before I talked to you?"

MAN AT PRESS CHECK-IN: " Well, let's just say you two made quite the impression yesterday."

ME: (embarrassed and blushing-- its hard to be ashamed when you can't remember anything just and rely on notes) " Oh?"

MAN AT PRESS CHECK-IN: " Just try and be careful today... okay ladies?"


Later he got stoned with us, so I guess everything was cool.

We wandered off while pondering what (un?)-mentionable events may have transpired the day before.

Truckasauras blew my mind. They were hands down the most amazing act that I saw that weekend. Damn. Check them out. They are SSSSSIIIIIIIIICCCCCCCCCKK.

Saw some incredible music and some awful shit (but take my opinions with spoonfuls of salt-- sometimes I can be a hater, but I think of myself as "picky"

Leah, the goddess from the evening before, and I met up and solidified our perma-friendship (I as write this, I plan on returning to her house shortly. She was from Reno, going to Olympia. We would meet up, we thought.

We did.

She is quick, clever, witty and justifiably confident.
This was someone I needed to stay in touch with.

She left the next morning, and when The Flaming Lips made up for their lack of talent with stage theatrics, our crew peaced out -- with our share of excess materials acquired from forgetful or stupid campers. Interpret this as you wish.

So that's how I started doing live music journalismand how I met Leah Van Swearingen.