There is a lacking that flits around my wrist as though an appendage, once there, is missing. I've heard of phantom limbs before, but what is gone is nothing close to as serious as a lost leg or amputated arm; whats missing are the wristband festival passes to the Pemberton Music Festival.
Most of my acuantinces there religiously chanted their mantras of 'get'r done', 'party don't stop at Pemby', or 'give'r'. All the aforementioned shouts could seem to suggest, from their syntax, continual progress and charity, asceticism and altruism. In reality, it was consumption that ruled the crowd's minds for three days: musical intake, excessive alcohol and drug intake, excessive spending and ogling and fawning. I gave a few beers away, a few cigarettes and a ride to a hitchhiker, and that is about it.
The late afternoon sun sparked the dust that rose underfoot, rising up and engulfing everything. The crowds and commotion, while walking through the dust storms, conjurered images of the Middle East and roaming post-apocalyptic gangs a la Mad Max. Faces were covered; sunglasses and high-hitched bandannas, an attempt to keep the dust and sun out, adorned large numbers of nomads. We had paid to live in conditions which required visits to water stations to fill up bottles and carry them away, to line up for food, to pack like sardines to listen, to sleep in dust, mud, grass, and sun. Anyone how spent some time on the campsite sides of the fences would tell you that it bore some stunning similarities to how they would make a refugee camp out to be. This analogy is a bit much I'll admit, but it does bear some consideration as the condition of the place were such that one could consider it uncomfortable, and in many cases sickening.
Close to squalor, close to freedom, it was quite appropriate that Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers should perform the chart topping act they did. I held hands and touched a beauty during Free Falling, and part way through, as though synchronously timed, lost touch with her; 'Even The Losers' always gets a crowd to simultaneously look back at a time when they were lucky enough to be with someone out of their league. This was the set of the weekend. His stage presence was uncanny, his patience with the performance moved the crowd to the point that all knew when to sing those beautifully familiar lyrics. Those are lyrics we've sang during car rides from your driveway to your friend's down the way, sang as we drove down a deserted stretch of desert highway in Nevada, and on rooftops while smoking cigarettes and staring at the moon.
I don't know what else to tell you, save that I sure hope no one caught any photos of me throwing up the horns.
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