So it comes with only semi sadness that I announce that the Jam Van crew will not be making our way up to the Bay Urrea this weekend for the Outside Lands Music Festival. It’s a bummer, but to be honest, I’m not really sure I would have had it in me. You see, this little arts and crafts project of ours has proven to be far more of an ordeal than any of us had first expected. I never thought my living room would be transformed into an office complete with a bulletin board, computer, and cabin boy. I never thought I’d be working my day job plus another job. Preferably I’d have envisioned myself sans job altogether, but like Mick said, “I got nasty habits, I take tea at three” (ed. note: or it might have been some other shit). Since all of these things have seemingly happened over the span of three months, we’ve had to make some cuts in our yearly excursion schedule in order to make way for some of the new stuff.
Now I know what you’re saying; We have a hippie bus that makes music. How does driving to a music festival in San Francisco not mesh with that plan? To that I have no argument, only the truth, cleverly fogged through sea-glass words. Things have been taken out of our hands by powers that we can’t really afford to step to at this time. My vacation schedule has been interrupted and altered, so that I have to take more than one sojourn down to the land a my raisin’, or at least a place nearby. Thus I’m not gonna be able to be with you this summer San Francisco, not at that phest at least.
Let’s be honest though, we haven’t really been the best together, Outside Lands, you and I. I mean, there was the year that I figured my already exploded knee was fit enough to hop your fence and sneak in. While it did prove sturdy the first day, the second, well on the second day things went a little something like this:
EXT: Fence at Outside Lands – Day
A GROUP of BOYS climb up a fence to sneak into a festival. A security guard sees the boys and turns his golf cart in their direction. The boys see this and increase their hustle. One boy, a very stupid boy, we’ll call him CRAZY JONNY, decides to pull his friend, we’ll call him UNLUCKY, over the fence with him. Jonny lands on top of Unlucky and is unscathed. Unlucky however is screaming and writhing in pain. Jonny doesn’t notice, he’s already running off.
Unlucky lays on the ground and moans for a moment. One of his companions has darted back to check on him, we’ll call him HIPPIE PUNK-ASS.
Are you ok mayne?
No, not at all, not in the least bit!
Alright mayne, hurry up!
Hippie Punk-Ass dashes away to meet Jonny and the rest of the gang, leaving unlucky to drag himself around to the front of the tents in search of his friends.
Aaaand END SCENE
Yeah Outside Lands, that happened. So, so-what if you provided me with adequate pain relief throughout the day? If you want to really get into it, if you want to be truthful, the sound kept cutting out at Radiohead and Petty fuckin’ blew. So no, no it was not worth the excruciating pain, or the subsequent thousands of dollars worth of surgery (ed. note: yes I know I had already needed it, but still, it makes it more poignant).
I do also remember the year that I tricked you into thinking that I was someone special, and you gave me the fancy wristband when I hadn’t even paid for the not so fancy wristband. Yes Outside Lands, I remember that. I also however, remember that the day before you surprised me with your snazzy new second fence, and all those stupid dingbats running around with the silly uniforms between the first and second fence. That was an annoying twist on your situation, that ended with me stealing a security vest out of a cop car. I thought that I would be able to put that on and walk right into the festival. I did not think that I would grab the wrong type of vest, get eyeballed doing so, end up ditching the vest in the woods and hiding in fucking Golden Gate Park while Vedder fucking lit shit up inside (ed. note: mostly I just didn’t think). Oh, the decisions we make when we are young(ish) and (omitted).
So anyways Outside Lands, our relationship has been a sordid one of ups and downs, and I think this year, given circumstances beyond yours and my control, we’re gonna have to call it a down. So San Francisco, don’t you cry for us boo, we’ll be by real soon to stick a flower in your hair an’ shit. Y’all enjoy the head show this weekend, there will no doubt be plenty of spins and flashy glowy stuff, enjoy all a that.
Los Angeles, this means we’re stuck with each other again this weekend. Lucky for us the Muddy Reds are working on saving fucking rock and roll again, and doin’ it from our blessed zip code. So fuck Trey (ed. note: I so didn’t mean that, it was just for effect, I’m sorry dude, way sorry, Fluffhead for liiiiiife)!
Peace out crackers.
Quote for the Day: LeLe on da Keys – “I miss being your Jam Van ho!”
Links for the Day:
– Pete R-R-R-R-Rock (via Prefix)
– The always dapper, always debonair Stefan Urkel… (via I’m Not Obsessed)
– I dig this twitterin’ son’va’bitch! (via Aquarium Drunkard)