it begins again
the daily question- the only question
where am i where am i where am i? WHERE? how is that even physically possible??
festival season is the worst. not even just in the logistics of moving things around- but the human element makes life just... impossible. i don't know how any one does it.
the great stinking masses- the only time in my life where the faint traces of metal shavings and motor oil that follow me like the ghost of some foul lover's perfume are obliterated and cast to the wind, frightened into non-existence by the great stink of the human mass. no matter how clean you think you are, when lumped into the great human mass, a stink of great magnitude is generated. add mud, food, the great stink of diesel from engines, freon of the refrigeration units and air conditioning...
as you step out a door the great wave assaults you and bats your head and you may drop of the great weight- the non-physical manifests into a great pushing weight.
oh dear.
i think my main issue with festivals is they all kind of look the same really. you could be anywhere singing to the interchangeably similar stinky crowd (let's face it, the worst part is the stinky crowd, usually containing mud somewhere on there person, whether it's raining or not) and what would tip you off that you're not really in the same place singing to the same crowd night after night ad nauseum and at this point it's best not to think about it.
some wonderful purgatory i guess.
i'm not even alive and it makes me tired. lol

the thing that makes it even more confusing is the fact often you see the same bands over and over as everybody beats along the well-worn path of the european minstrel- tra la lay tra lay lee off goes i to the local castle to earn my keep and do my share of the wenching. or not.
AND much like then as is now, afterwards ale is your welcome solace and careful balm that eases your ills and causes more of it's own! lol
the same old interpersonal politics, the old rivalries, real or imagined, the same hangers on, the same the same the same.
and then one might wonder why i am so damn confused to venture outside the box and find nothing's changed although clearly i felt myself move.
i might just have to go mad.

yeah, or not. i managed to catch some doctor who and found myself instead confronted with doctor fag- david tennant pretending to be some schoolmaster with the improbably lame name of john smith (yeah, that's some real creative writing there you asshats) and of course he goes for the impossibly forward marm. of course.
and just to make it even stupider- the only way you could tell who was the aliens was when they... get this... started sniffing. oh yes. apparently david tennant is gassy and all that spicy time lord food gives him a stink at once legendary and apparently undetactable by british human noses, destroyed after years of stinky bog water, smoking, and there own awful cuisine. lol
and now they have another doctor! why are they trying to kill off doctor who? and what's up with this new and even more emo looking doctor? damn.

in my more wild fantasies i'm a farmer- up to my knees in shit with a flock of snot nosed children and a plump wife stuffing me with food made with cat hair and love and held together by (and containing at least) 25% charcoal from the fierce burnings it recieves at her hands. the animals and the pets, the frozen mornings in the feild and the sweltering afternoons in the feild on the roof in the barn sweatily pounding the sheep sweatily pounding anything (because of course what real man isn't constantly pouring off an improbable amount of sweat) the vacations on the beach in a sad faded facade and a wood panelled station wagon, the bills and the curses, the beer and the whiskey and the long silent nights in between, watching children that grow up to disappoint have ugly patchwork children or go to jail for not ignoring that impulse to run off and kill people while you only ever think on it... a BEARD. at this point my screaming wakes me from my repast and if only i had swaet i'm sure i would mop my brow and say THANK GOD IT'S ONLY A DREAM.
or a nightmare. i don't know which. good for those that like it not so good for a skinny robot with a head full of nonsense.
the long rainy days have been filled with the intertwining joy division, grizzly bear and depeche mode (because how could i get by a day without), the nice days i try to lay by the lake but my god the tedium is killing me!