October...What Do I Care?
I have been writing forever it seems to me now, all for school, so why am I writing now? Space filler, time sponge, savory digital byte sandwich.
Sunday, Oskar and I attended a Satanic event, er, I mean a Sacred Music Festival. We drove to the epicenter of cullture, Santa Monica (please sense the sarcasm, I was afraid it was too vague so I had to tell you). On the beach hundreds of smelly hippies, and just as smelly yuppies gathered on the beach, wearing white. They all stood at the shore, banging on drums, groping, and dancing with each other. A thick mug of incense and herbal drugs filled the ocean air. There was an intense heartbeat that got louder and louder with every sunken step Oskar and I took in the sand. For some reason curiosity overwhelmed me, and I insisted that we go the where the action was. Why am I so naive? How come I don't even know what I like at this point in my life?
It was like some shitty rave, that was too bright, and not enough zombie-like youth. Me and Oskar looked at each other, it fell over his face, as it did mine, the realization that we were in fact experiencing all the underworld could ever offer. Must get out, yet still I knew it would end once the sun went down (considering it was a countdown to just that) I hesitantly stayed. The beat got louder, more and more annoying until my skull was swimming in good vibrations. Feeling ill, the sun finally disappeared, we ran out, ran far, far away. God, there is no god. We then stopped by Ben's so that I could retrieve my iPod, Oskar insisted on taking a nap and so not to seem rude he wrote a note to Ben to apologize for not coming inside. This note confused Ben, and Ben continued to paint with oil for his tv show. I helped him for his frustration was gnawing at his time. After an hour or so, I remembered Oskar was in the car. He didn't actually sleep too well, so we had boba, cried, and all was well. <3