Well, my prediction is, it’s going to be easy.
The problem is, Comfest is extremely attractive, and Comfest knows me really well. It’s so easy to fall back into all the old patterns, once Comfest comes around and starts ringing my phone and Facebooking me.
Plus, I couldn’t help but notice, I’ve got a handful of beer tokens from my hasty retreat last year. I remember that my wife was in Ecuador last year, and I decided to take my little dog down to Goodale. I thought, dudes look cool when they’re walking around with little cute dogs.
And I forget where the girls were – they were somewhere, doing something. Marilyn was in Ecuador, like I said, so they could have been practically anywhere. Their curfew was August 17th at dusk.
And this was June. I headed on out to Comfest with my little dog, and found it very difficult to park. I’m aware that’s normal, it was unusually very difficult. And by the time I did, my little dog went ahead and barfed on my lap.
Not the first time a dog or a person has barfed on my lap – in fact that’s a pretty long list. But it shut down Comfest for me, and I didn’t return until later that night, wearing fresh shorts and minus the dog.
Bought a bunch of tokens. Disliked the giant crowd. Went out to a few other bars and got comically intoxicated and was dropped off at home.
Their grandma’s house – that’s where the kids were. Different grandmas – one of those grandmas is kind of a problem. Ellen’s not crazy about staying there. Ellen was at the other grandma’s.
Anyway, that’s a relief, the kids were fine – I knew they must have been because they’re fine now. But anyway, I bought a crapload of tokens, and threw them in my desk, and even though we’ve moved in the last year, I’ve got them in my pocket now, and I intend to go down to Comfest and drink them.
At least, that’s how I’m rationalizing it. Really, it’s like I said. Comfest calls me at two in the morning, slurring, wants to come over, and I’m weak. Then old patterns emerge, and I’m walking around with a big plastic mug and possibly a straw hat, wishing I had sunglasses, drinking beer that’s getting flat.
Here’s the plan. Greeno’s in town – the real guy, not the fictional amalgam. It’s again, just going to be crucial that you keep these two identically named people straight, because one of them’s not real.
Anyway, Greeno flew in from Chicago, and I’m going to meet up with him, and we’re going to get pissed at Comfest and instead go to a local bar, returning to Comfest around 7pm to catch Colin Gawel at the Bozo stage (I think).
When Colin Gawel was in Watershed, by the way, they played Comfest one year and had hilarious tee shirts made up which read “COMMIE FEST” and had some dudes in big, funny Russian hats marching around on them. The best part is, I’m told they got yelled at for it.
I’ll probably find some people sitting on blankets away from the crowd and hang out with them for a while, but I’ll have to keep getting up and going to the beet tent, and then I’ll have to eat a giant turkey leg.
Another big problem with me and Comfest is that in addition to being unable to smell, I am pretty much tone deaf. My musical tastes don’t make any sense at all, and I tend to rely on the people around me.
So it used to be that the general wavy gravy hippy vibe of Comfest would mystically and magically carry me along like a current in the Spiritual River of Grooviness, and that’s how Comfest would be – me bobbing along, digging it.
I’d end up seeing some cool band like Eileen Motok in her bare feet, or one of those Australian dudes with the weird humming instrument, or Willie Phoenix, or that guy from the Violent Femmes who yells about fat cats and corporations.
Last year instead of a Spiritual River of Grooviness, it was like I was Neo in the Matrix when Morpheus unplugged him and the machines flushed him out of his slime pod. Like getting a really gross and unpleasant asskicking, with a turkey leg and a beer.
Yes, I agree, the turkey leg and the beer make a big difference.
I’m going to go down there and try to like Comfest, and I will let you all know how it went. If you see me, the very first thing you should do is either give me a beer or five dollars or a turkey leg.
If they have Wifi down there, perhaps I’ll even blog it.
Can you think of anything more irritating than a guy sitting around stinking up Comfest with his own negativity and old age, while he’s blogging about it on a freaking lap top?
Me either. See you down there.