"There's no security where you're going."
Said the helpful lady at the check-in at Bonnaroo last weekend. she meant it nicely, but it sounded ominous.
The entire shindig was, even more than last year, bloody well awesome. Not in the least because I got to embed with the Bingo! Show/Noise Parade crew and watch them wreak a new kind of chaos on the hippies.
I like to describe things with vignettes rather than lists, because I show-don't-tell.
Backstage on the couch at Sonic Youth, a dude came up and said, "Even though you have curly hair, you're rocking that Patti Smith tank top don't-fuck-with-me look really well. You're pulling it off. But next time do it without the cigarette, because cancer WILL fuck with you."
That was fun.
The entire shindig was, even more than last year, bloody well awesome. Not in the least because I got to embed with the Bingo! Show/Noise Parade crew and watch them wreak a new kind of chaos on the hippies.
I like to describe things with vignettes rather than lists, because I show-don't-tell.
Backstage on the couch at Sonic Youth, a dude came up and said, "Even though you have curly hair, you're rocking that Patti Smith tank top don't-fuck-with-me look really well. You're pulling it off. But next time do it without the cigarette, because cancer WILL fuck with you."
That was fun.