Monday, April 19, 2010

*contributed by Oxenfree

Oh Coachella. That sonic beast that will not be satisfied. What's that you say? I cannot enjoy just one day in your 90s apparel clad bosom that smells like the ball sack of humanity and of deep fried agoraphobia? I must commit to all 3 days with my wallet and shame!? Yes! Yes, give me this chance to eat my weight in mushrooms and accidentally trip on/with slumming celebrities while you make insane profits and chase down enterprising folk whilst on horseback. Think of the stories I can tell to my rightly terrified future fruits of my surgically rejuvenated loins.
How about this very special episode of 'coachella kids' I sat next to while waiting for my wristband that never came...:

Guy Tripping 1: I like the desert. I like desert animals. I'm all about taking things in.
Guy Tripping 2: I notice that you're wearing shoes. Those shoes kick...shoeses. Shoeses aside.
GT1: Yeah it's my transportation.

New Guy (Presumed Tripping): Hey I know you, I have THINGS to say to you.

This is what you get when you let standardized testing and trans fat free foods win. Kids trying to overcompensate for their bleak and boring present by doing what their hippie parents did but paying a shit ton more for the privilege. Wait, not even hippies at this point, right? We've got kids rolling in who have moms that fucked Robert Smith. Or dads.
Whatever, the point is, I didn't even get into the festival. I just went to parties and drank free "booze". Yes, "booze", looking at you Hornitos. Which, if you are wondering, is actually milked from the mythical chupacabra and not made in a bathtub filled with unwashed children and ex-pat sex touristas in Baja, as previously reported. Anyway, the parties were fun. And I regret virtually nothing. I also now have awesome bright yellow headphones that aren't made by Skullcandy.
In summation, I'm still young enough to want to drive to the desert and damage my insides and outside with drink, sound and bad choices; old enough to see the end is nigh.

But, keep in mind, we will be seeing the spawn of those conceived in the Anthem lagoon (not the one with paddle boats mind you) one day at Coachella 2025. And they too will be trying to figure out why Pavement didn't headline over extremely amusing cartoon characters voiced by hot brit-pop studs from better, simpler times. Kids are getting smarter, all I'm saying.

*photos by Oxenfree.
see more pics on Shadowscene

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