Alcoholism in the field of dreams. The field probably doesn't even have a legal name. the nickname eventually invaded maps. The vast expanse of giant farm machinery paired with thousands of frantic, laughing, twenty-somethings, stomping the ground and filling up trash barrels with piles of beer cans and half-gallons. Knowledge that the temperature drops considerably at night considers a certain type of preparation. (More lighting. Blankets). That box wine might be laced, it turns out. We rambled around. Trying to find clues for the enlightening effects of a positive mob mentality. We are all here for the same careless feeling of basking in the glory of our youthful days. How quick they are to pass! We combine secrets and open up to strangers in the night. No one gets restful sleep. We are too cold and excited. Looking for warmth by traveling tent by tent. The one with the loudest speakers. Tiki torches used as baseball bats. Throwing bottles at a friend from afar. Toilet paper littering the campground entirely. Burned out all of his brain cells. (Never been the same since. I've never touched the illicit material since then.) Designer drugs, designed to make you feel great for a little while, then terrible for the rest of your life. But everyone here is willing to do that in order to feel so great for so little. Everyone pitched in the ridiculous amounts of cash (Will call, I had to run across a football field and hurdle a fence). A stereo system with a light show. Inflatable mattress to bring girls back to. Preferably ones covered with neon paint like the black lines baseball players put under there eyes to deflect some sunlight. (black lines under eyes baseball). glare reduction. The target audience is a girl carrying her high heels on the rough terrain, yelling, in hysterics, waiting for the right music to hit her ears. Sleep with the first person to play her favorite song (a top 40 hit). At least some of these fuckers dig deeper and appreciate the true beauty of some of the other bands. This chaos begins next week. They build up there endurance with keg stands while a friend with boxing gloves attacks you. Pushups with shot glasses beneath the face. Smoking joints until you almost lose consciousness then a girlfriend cat scratches you. Hair pulling and soaking up ransom notes like they are ultraviolet radiation. Smelling marijuana. Cool breeze. Train without deodorant. Let the clothes stick to your back and rent out a port-o-potty to use for all cosmetics. Flavored, spiced rum in coffee in the morning before work. Grab life by the throat and pour beer in its face. Throttle your excitement. Hairpin turns. Traverse the travesty. No fear. No pain will be left. You will be immortal with the rest of the lunatic kids, looking for kicks in the spring field, the gorge and the view. The music and the intimacy. All problems last year will be fixed. The lines will be shorter. The joints larger. We will hijack the stage and start Biz Markie sing alongs.
* * * * *
beautiful optimistic run through rose bushes, all of those ghostly hollows, the cracks in the pavement, leaves strewn across the ground, go for a walk and a talk, outside to keep the juices flowing. I was in high spirits at the dawn of my run. No fear I'd go too far. Lost the key to the gate. Reasons unknown why I had it with me to begin with. Sugar from a soda. Fueling vocal chords. I looked for a key on the earthquake-ruined, sometimes overgrown sidewalk. Too many hiding places for a key. Half-expecting to find it on the steps on the church. Cliche enough message. Passed two churches in fact. They are probably at war with each other. Or in front of the book store that is selling off all of the remaining books. A dream for a dollar. Years of hard work, sweating with self-consciousness and cigarette burns in the carpet, dogs underfed and escaping. Witnessed tiny bird being consumed by smaller ants. I could have put it out of its misery. But I didn't dare kill. Looking for a key. I took it as another minor sign. Meaning what. First off I must take the necessary precautions. If there is an urge. An itching to get something accomplished.... Why did I take the key with me? That thought in the back of my head to stick it in my shoe. Ignored for discomfort. Take precaution despite discomfort. Haunt me, darling bird. I could have been the master of your fate... or rather intervened with the master of your fate. But I let you stay down there, hopeless. I was on a different mission. Unsuccessful one, naturally. Longboard in the sun. Burns on my neck. What the hell does all of this spiritual swirling mean, in context?
