I don't really get comments on this blog, so any one comment is a cause for celebration. A comment like this takes that celebration out of the range of "block party" and into "city-wide riot":
omg when i got this f*cking book from my professor who's a totally asshole i simply thought wtf
i've never ever read a title so stupid and tomorrow is my test so i'm dying fuckkkkk
btw DRUGS ARE MAINSTREAM omfg
adios biatchos
It was left on my review of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, a book which certainly could drive people to hardcore drugs, or, at the very least, 180-proof everclear. As I responded, I only wish I knew who it was that left this thing of beauty on my blog.
I had a lot of really exciting things planned recently. In April, as I do every year, I went to Coachella, which is something I look forward to basically all year, from the day that Coachella ends until the day it starts the following year. In fact, this year, I enjoyed it so much I went twice!
As if that wasn't enough, I went to Vegas the first weekend of May, for a friend's "Bachelorette 2.0" -- she's been married almost two years, but we decided just to theme the event for her anyway and buy a bunch of things shaped like penises. These weeks were a whirlwind for me of realizing I'm not that old yet, and I still have a lot of really poor choices pent up inside of me that I don't want to go to waste. Something has happened in the last few months, possibly since January, that has made me pretty manic all of the time. I'm crawling out of my skin trying to mainline new experiences, and having those big trips coming up right next to each other had me peaking with anticipation.
Those weekends were amazing. I can count the last five weeks as among the best of my life, post-traumatic immune response and all. But now that they are over, the mania hasn't died down. I'm vibrating at an impossible frequency, trying to stir up new crazy nights. Have you seen Crank? The movie where Jason Statham (basically playing himself, as one does) has to keep his heart rate up or he'll die, so he does insane shit like get into high speed car chases and have public sex? I'm not saying I'm getting into high speed car chases and having public sex, but I feel like I need to keep moving at a high velocity of insanity or else I'll crash and start feeling shitty again like I did nine months ago.
But this isn't supposed to be a sad post, and it's not, even if you're worried about my mental health (don't be, I'm being overdramatic for humorous effect, it's a literary device, LOOK IT UP) so let me just tell you about the event that spawned the title of this post, which was last weekend. As I've been saying frequently of late, at the top of my list of things to do when drunk are:
Dance like a moron
Go swimming/Jump in a body of water
I should also add somewhere in the top ten "set off fireworks" because this is now something that has happened several times in a state of intoxication. On Saturday, I went with my roommate to see Marina and the Diamonds. It was a fun albeit teenybopper-ass show, which I wasn't quite expecting, but afterward I had the hankering to hang out with some people of my own kind, by which I mean those of legal drinking age. I ended up dragging my very patient roommate to two separate bars, one by the concert and the other one closer to home, and when I finally made it back home I still felt that I hadn't had enough excitement. I found these mortar-style fireworks (read: not remotely legal in the state of CA and that video is why) and felt compelled to go down the street and light them off. Everything went well and there were no mishaps, but though I felt I was very sly and it would have been impossible to identify me as the perpetrator, it was about 4 in the morning and the loud noises woke up my building manager, who then heard the sound of my apartment door banging shut after a rather incriminating interval of time. She wasn't mad, but I definitely got called out. And what was I going to say? I owned up to my poor drunken decision making, but frankly it's not something I'm never likely to do again. Learning my lesson may have to come with another few years of maturity that I haven't acquired yet.
So let me quickly apologize to all two of my readers for not writing in awhile. I have been in kind of a slump emotionally and it wasn't really prompting me to write much. Most of the stuff I encounter these days on the internet seems really depressing and I wasn't (and still am not!) getting a lot of inspiration for writing about happy things.
However. I did for the first time go to Coachella this year and to say the least, it was incredible. I am so stoked I finally went, and kind of kicking myself for not having gone before. So we packed up my baby car (baby because it's young, and because I baby it since it's officially the most expensive part of my life) and on Thursday night drove out to the desert with the biggest tent I've ever seen, and all the beer we could get our hands on before Costco closed.
One thing that I was not prepared for was the four and a half hour wait to actually get onto the campground. They were searching every single car for contraband, particularly glass bottles and weaponry and things that could generally be used to kill people. Depending on how cranky the individual attendant was and how thorough s/he felt like being at the time, some people also had entire bags searched, which one could imagine probably ended up in a lot of weed being confiscated. So almost as soon as we got off the freeway and headed toward the Polo Club, we came across a line of cars that began about two miles away from the entrance to the Club. Then upon entry, the cars were separated into smaller lines on a field that led to the searching areas. It was like a huge parking lot at that point:
When we finally got onto the campsite, we then began our careful arranging of tent and car, since the tent was so huge and, to our dismay, the people directly behind us also had a larger-sized tent. After finally getting the tent set up (and having a couple of beers and meeting neighbors along the way) we finally got to bed at around 5AM.
Friday was a day of exploration. We walked around the endless campsites and around the festival arena itself, checking out the art pieces that were placed throughout the grounds:
There were two large outdoor stages. The main "Coachella" stage was immediately visible as soon as you entered the festival site, and the second "Outdoor" stage was to the right of the main stage. Then, in line with the Outdoor stage and extending toward the back of the grounds were three tents: Gobi, Mojave, and Sahara, each increasing in size from the last. These housed the smaller acts over the weekend, and the Sahara tent was nearly always dedicated to various electronica throughout the festival.
The first act our group wandered out to see was a bizarre collaboration between Perry Farrell, lead singer of Jane's Addiction, and Steve Porter, a house DJ and producer. From what I could tell, it seemed that the performance was possibly intended to be a mashup that laid Farrell's vocals, possibly from pre-existing solo tracks, over an electronic musical backing. Having been a fan of Farrell's vocal work both for Jane's Addiction and for various electronic tracks (he's no stranger to the scene) and of Steve Porter's live sets, I would have expected more of this performance. It just didn't seem to work. The vocals were incongruous with the electronic beat and were difficult to even hear - one of my concert pet peeves.
We next stopped by Yeasayer. I'd never heard of them but enjoyed their performance - a catchy and fun set full of indie dance poprock. Seeing this band so early on helped to remind me of something important about the value of a festival like Coachella - with such a packed schedule, it's easy to get caught up in trying to fit in all of the bands you know about and like. But it's equally if not more important to take advantage of the opportunity to hear groups that you haven't heard of, to discover and support new music. I picked up Yeasayer's album Odd Blood after Coachella and found it to not disappoint.
First up on the "must-see" list was Passion Pit, who were playing at the Outdoor stage. I have to say that though I enjoyed their set, I was underwhelmed by it in the context of the other shows I saw over the weekend. I felt that the lead singer was kind of weak when live, something that I feared might be the case just from listening to their studio songs. So many of the songs feature his high falsetto which, though it can be mostly tamed and perfected in a studio, is difficult to really nail live unless one is a really strong singer. Nonetheless, I went wild with the rest of the crowd when they performed what to me is obviously their best song, "Sleepyhead":
That was my video, but there are other more close-up ones on YouTube if you want to see what they were actually doing on stage... this one's pretty decent.
Next up was La Roux. This girl was a spitfire! She was canvassing the entire stage - it was really difficult to get a good shot of her. That was not to mention the fact that someone made the mistake of sticking her in the small Gobi tent. It was way too crowded in there. It's one thing to share the communal experience of being sweaty and packed in, jumping around as a unit to the beat; it's another thing to be jostled to the point of nearly falling over every time someone needs to scratch their nose behind you because there is that little room. La Roux herself was great and she really knew how to work the crowd. Also? I love her androgynous look:
She basically had her hair slicked up into a mohawk and she had a really sharp suit on. I think it's great to see a female pop performer that is as successful as she's growing to be, who doesn't perform practically naked.
Last on the list for me that evening was Imogen Heap. And wow. She blew me away. I had no idea that she did all of her own instruments on stage... it was nuts.
She had mics that she wore around her wrists such that she would play something on one instrument and it would record via the wrist mics, and then it would play back in a loop over the sound system. Then, she would move on to the next thing and do the same thing, until finally the whole background came together and she would begin singing or sit down at the piano and begin singing. She would even get up and play the drums at some points when the beat would come in with extra emphasis - this was especially powerful during "Headlock":
Not my video this time, but watch the whole thing! You'll see how she's always up and around messing with the different instruments she's got on stage. I also really appreciated her whimsy and quirkiness on stage - she was having sound issues because at one point one of her wrist mics stopped working, but she was joking around with the audience about it and getting really charmingly flustered, like she wasn't too cool to not care and she did really want to put on a good show for us. I also laughed when the audience started chanting "Hide and Seek! Hide and Seek!" and she responded with something like, "No, I can't play that just yet, because once you've all heard that you'll leave and I want to keep you here awhile longer." Ha! Anyway, I'd love to get the chance to see her again live, because her set was only an hour long and I love so many more of her songs than I got to hear. Hers was one of my favorite performances for the whole weekend.
The two big numbers after Imogen that I did not see were Jay-Z and Deadmau5. I decided to skip the former because I just personally had no interest in seeing him, but I'm really bummed that I didn't head over and see Deadmau5. At the time I was very paranoid about being split up and going off by myself, but seeing as how many times that happened throughout the rest of the weekend and I ended up just fine, in retrospect it was really sad that I missed it. I heard it was an insane set. Fortunately, I could actually hear parts of it from the tent, where I was - so I got to hear "Ghosts & Stuff," which sounded like a crowd-pleaser from where I was.
Let's talk. For one thing, you've gone and made it so that my news feed is full of crap that people write on each others' walls (like I care.) And, so that crap that I write on other people's walls ends up spattered all over everyone's news feed (like they care.) So that's annoying. And it makes me want to write on people's walls less.
But here's what you really need to stop. I've got like 500 "friends" right? How about you create some kind of "people my own age" filter or "people who graduated college" filter so that my news feed isn't full of people younger and funner than me having a grand old time in college, and making me stabby and bitter that I'm a weak-sauce graduate student with no spring break and summer vacation? Why can't you make my news feed instead full of people's updates who are my age and older, with jobs and lives with suck and weekly boredom levels greater than or equal to mine?
I no longer want to read about how people are getting blackout drunk every night of the week. Not because I disapprove; rather, I'm insanely jealous that a) your schedule permits and b) your freaking body permits. Drinking is NOT like riding a bike. You can't take time off and then jump back into college-levels of drinking without your body treating you the next day like rather than drinking the night before, you were actually in a cage match with The Rock (non family friendly version.)
And what's worse? I hate to break it to you kids, but I think I finally unraveled the government conspiracy that had them settle on 21 being the drinking age. Because by you turn 21, you've got about another year and a half of being able to handle drinking like a spritely youth. By the time my summer after graduation is over, nights spent at the bottom of a bottle meant mornings spent trying to find a happy place where there was no light and my whole body didn't hurt. And by giving you only that much time to drink legally before binge drinking turns into a battle of wills with your body, they're really giving you a biological lesson in motivation to not get hammered drunk.
So this wasn't really all about you, Facebook, and I'm sorry for running away with myself like that. But I think you can understand why I'm asking this of you - please stop showing me so much fun. Oh, and you can also stop asking me to reconnect with my elementary school friends. It's precious and all that we're friends on Facebook to begin with, but it's not like we're really planning on striking up a conversation with each other any time soon outside of an (unlikely) reunion.
Throughout time, I've done a few Netflix tree trials - different email addresses, different credit card numbers, and if necessary, different names. (My middle name has become my first name on at least a few occasions.)
My most recent free trial was a full month long thanks to a special coupon code I was gifted, but in addition to its month long status, a big difference between this trial and others was that I actually kept my Netflix subscription afterward. There were several movies that I saw over the summer that I wanted to copy to my hard drive and watch again, and I've been waiting for them to come out on DVD. So at least until I can't think of any more movies I'm interested in watching either for the first time or for permanent ownership evaluation, I'm keeping my Netflix membership.
At some point, I asked my dad if he could recommend any films for me to watch of the cult classic variety. He suggested a few (Time Bandits? Loved. It had mischievous midgets. I could not ask for anything else. Lost in America? Didn't do it for me. The wife was too square and the husband too shrill. Repo Man? Yes, yes yes. Radioactive cars and young punkish Emilio Estevez. Awesome.) and I ended up putting The Road Warrior and Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome on my queue.
Shortly afterward, I was browsing Netflix's recommended titles for me based on movies I had previously requested and rated. And lo and behold:
Thank you, Netflix, for recognizing my taste for violent films, but...
starring Mel Gibson? Two of the movies I have had on my queue, ever, have starred Mel Gibson. (The aforementioned Road Warrior and Thunderdome, Mad Max's 2 and 3, respectively) and suddenly "Violent Movies starring Mel Gibson" is a trend of mine?
Whatever, I'll take it. At least for me, Netflix's prediction algorithm is hilarious. Comedy silver, if not gold.
(Happy International Drunk Blogging Day! I've had pleeeenty of sake and beer to commemorate the event.)
Halloween gives me anxiety. While I usually have nothing but love and appreciation for holidays that promote drinking and revelry in excess, the anticipation that surrounds Halloween gets me worked up about it to such an extent that I blow my excitement payload about a week too early. And the costumes. Because I'm so cheap, I refuse to buy costumes from the store on principle unless I can find a truly awesome one (Moses rendered transgender qualifies.) Among other issues, this is one of the main reasons why I've never bought a slutty women's costume - I cannot justify spending $80 per costume at Aahs for so little fabric. So in recent years, my costumes have been rather half-assed, but just ridiculous enough to make up for it. They're like the costume version of a dry, pithy one-liner.
I saw this costume and laughed to myself at how ungodly unreasonable it was for the designers to imagine women actually walking around in this (potentially NSFW):
I had a pretty stellar weekend, it started off seeing an amazing dance/hip-hop stage show (Groovaloo) with Courtney. I'd seen it twice before, but because it is a freestyle show and it's been on Broadway during the interim years between LA performances, it was a very different show now than the one I remember.
I was first alerted to the existence of the Groovaloos by pure chance; many of their rehearsals and the "Groove Nites" in which the group first got together took place at the studio I used to dance it. Going to the show years ago was first something that I did with other members of my studio... and then we saw just how amazing the show was. We spread the word, and the dance program at my high school found ourselves making it out to another show that of course I joined in on. I didn't know many of the members of the Groovaloos personally, but I was acquainted with Bradley Rapier, the genius who started the group, just because I danced at the studio - it was fun "showing off" to people who came to the show with me that I knew the guy in charge.
I'm pretty sure Bradley wouldn't recognize me now, but I still saw a lot of people from the studio at the show - including my ballet teacher, Olivia. It was incredible reading about all of the accolades earned and competitions won by the Groovaloos since they last performed in LA. Though I'm sure my nostalgia means little to them in the scope of their achievements, I do feel kind of a pride for the group as I felt like I was there for them at the beginning, that the first show I saw was a fledgling one... and now, seeing how they've matured and how the show was even more fantastical than I remembered, I'm just thrilled for each member of the group for what they've accomplished.
The remainder of the weekend was spent with more of my favorite people - Laura's adieu to LA bash was a riot even though BrewCo was a sweltering foyer to Hades that night. Quality time with Casper on Saturday, complete with a tasty bacon-filled dinner. It's really awesome that Casper actually volunteers to cook for me, but I do kind of fear the day that I'll have to make him something that's not breakfast or lunch food. And though times where I am dissatisfied with brunch are few and far between, Sunday morning/afternoon with Laura, Tiffany, Michelle, and a new friend named Hillary was divine indeed.
If even a small majority of my weekends can remind me so satisfyingly of college, I'm sitting pretty on a pretty sweet existence for the time being. I can't complain. And I'm really thankful for everything I've got for making it so great right now.
It's nice to know that I'll have a group of friends in grad school who willingly push the start of the pool party back a few hours when class releases early, and who recognize that said earlier start time will mean that beer drinking shall commence in the AM.
And I thought I would never be faced with a 24 pack of Natty Light again!
How wonderful life is to drink during the day, suck down some H2O, take a nap in the hot hot shade, and drive home before 4PM.
Punk Says the Darndest Things: "Are the nerves in my feet and my stomach connected? Because a lot of the time when my stomach hurts, my feet do too."
