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not completely grasping intelligence. my sentences are incoherent most of the time.
really, maybe weed merely boosts my faith in my own words.
although many times i've often faltered upon my own thoughts under the influence.
this hardly means i'm over the influence.
i influence my own damn self, irregardless of the consequences.
it's the way of mankind.
i'm only a spawn of an engineer. i bet he loves his work. he's always going at it.
perhaps that's not what it's about. just working all the time, i mean. he's probably just innit for the money. for bills and taxes and a precious home and a functioning (perhaps stylish) automobile. plus the second wife he's probably supporting. of course, he's more than just an engineer. he's also a carpenter, and he does electrical work in houses. and he's some sort of public notary. yes, he's got an unknown number of licenses and certificates behind that worn leather belt he surely wears.
i can hardly remember my age/ i remind myself only when i refer my age to others. i've begun to take much more notice that i'm twenty two and life skims by.
i'm prepared to leave, but it would be nice to stick around for a crazy roller coaster of an existence.
i'm fairly certain this is everybody's concern, though. leading a crazy roller coaster of a happy existence. i'm more of the somber type, though i smile much more than perhaps a Charles Bukowski or a Hubert Selby Jr. (depending on which coast you--

i'm done with this. this prose. i'm only wondering what i what i want to listen to next on grooveshark.
i've been thinking about food not bombs. this twenty two year old ought to give Andrew a call.

"i'm here for panda bear--"

i went to the FYF Fest (which, i'm sure people've noticed, pretty much stands for FuckYeahFest Fest; stupid) this past weekend without any expectations except to watch Panda Bear perform live.

i sleep through half the bands playing. it was really hot and dusty. i was hungry and reasonably (i like to think) broke. they wouldn't allow any bottles into the place, so too many people wasted too much water just to wait in a long ass line for the war fountain or too much money on the water they were selling. most all the bands (apparently "boundary pushing artists") were spewing regurgitated pop shit to hundreds of adoring wienies.

i was accompanied by good people and good weed. i received two refreshing tiny cups of tamarindo jarritos. i managed to get a couple of books (bukowski/crumb and rius).

i got to see Man Man who played a fantastic set. i got to see that mustachio'd singer man fall from the stool where he stood, knock over some of his shit (keyboard and floor tom, among other things) and quickly recover mid-way through a song. i had to deal with a pair of lame high-killing hoochies during half the set.

stood near the furthest end of the crowd for Sleep. i'd forgotten they were playing. Sleep's Holy Mountain (the album) is great, and i'd been wanting to hear something heavy since the Davila 666 performance (which was greatly misleading and massively disappointing, not to mention degrading over the course of the performance). so i stand there, near the back of the crowd. the guitar and bass men jam on two and three notes to the dismay of many a hipster. long jams and Dragonaut filled my ears with wonder. a woman drenched in a dark fabric headbangs like a nutcase in one of those homes for invalid minds/ it's very fitting to sonic darkness emanating from the stage.

as soon as the last notes were hit by Sleep, the colourful (and i don't mean multi-ethnic) people rushed to get a place for mister Noah Lennox, the Panda Bear. the crowd closed in around me when i neared the stage as much as i could. my friends and i blaze a bowl or two. people keep crowding in. then a huge burst of sound to open his set. it's startling and exciting and he pretty much takes my senses to little place he might chance to call "the Bone Zone" (ohh yeaa!).

i'm lost in the noise and rhythm and greatness and i'm amazed and stoned and the only thing bugging me is my tired feet. my legs also feels supremely sensitive to the movement of the ground (which thumps like a parade of elephants, only much better sounding, i'm sure [though i've never heard a herd of elephants, so i guess i can't really say]). i'm blown away and the set feels really long and the whole thing is a fantastic voyage. my eyes mainly focused on Panda Bear, but the display of images on the screen behind him are quite distracting as well. they weren't all bad, i just wonder if he had any say in what went on behind him. i'm pretty sure he didn't. there was a screen behind the Man Man performance, too, and it flashed some credit to some unknown guy whose name i can't recall and the music hardly synch'd up. i've got to say i think those images are my only dislike.

the next morning i can't remember a thing about the night before, or the great grooves i witnessed. all i know is it was great.

in conclusion, panda bear's performance was the best of the night. the end. haters gonna hate.

oh, another thing that bugged me about the whole FuckYeahFest Fest thing were the ironic schedules/ the cover had a picture of a man (presumably "indie") diving into a big thing of water. ice cold-looking water. it was very stupid and upsetting and i still resent 'em. the schedule's covers. stupid.


for the entire show review'd by other people.