don't let the smell stop you

Tuesday, May 27, 2003

hmm, today was fun.
but my legs hurt! tuey and i woke up and almost killed ourselves, our asses ached so bad. thighs too.
yesterday, okay, didn't say much about folk life festival.
it was great, especially over by the beer garden. they had drums and stuff, lots of hippie music, and all these people (totally strung out on dope) dancing to the music. all the women were in these flowy skirts with tons of anklets and jingly beads and stuff, and just, really hippie-like. the guys had dredlocks and were walking around without shirts or shoes or anything. and then there were the real hard-core punks, with spiked out mohawks and black jackets and piercings and everything. everyone was just crowded around and under the trees, either dancing or sitting on blankets in circles smoking weed, or just watching. and all along the sides were little hackey sack circles. the whole thing was this gorgeous community of people who'd been there since friday, bright and early to late in the night, every day.
i felt kind of left out from all of it, like a little kid looking through the bars of the zoo. it's so cool, and it's not necessarily something you'd want to do for the rest of your life, but you just crave to be a tiger for that moment in time.
so basically, my goal for the next while is to find baggy khakis, shop around goodwill and other retail shops, just find comfortable, laid-back clothing that suits this beautiful, sunny-day laid-back image i have in my head. next year, tuey and i are going to skip school and go to the folk life festival every day. we'll be the ones walking around barefoot, dazed and confused, aching and sore and knowing everyone.
oh yeah, and as for today, liz and i shovelled and spread bark all through my backyard. we blasted green day and when we were done, played hackey sack in the street. got some slurpees from 7-11, ate chicken burgers... it was just really easy and laid-back. um, now, my feet are killing me and i want to die. but i had a good weekend.

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