Well ... here I am. I am working on a photo set .. just waiting to get some new tats first. What do I do with my time ... mostly write and cause trouble.
Here is a sample .....
Heart-broken and Hailed on at Warped Tour
Yes, it’s true .... my heart was broken into a million tiny pieces of valve and aortic tissue at last week’s Warped Tour. And not by some tattooed juicer of a skate punk either . Oh no ... this cardiac thrashing came courtesy of the tour itself, that adorable and omni-present entity otherwise affectionately known as “The Establishment”. You see, I was raised on punk music. I had older sisters who embraced this form of expression and the counter culture and individuality it celebrated. Punks at this time were outcasts, misfits, and undesirables. They were rarely good looking, but embodied a sense of anti-authoritarian cool I found compelling and irresistible. I was instantly smitten and became the only ten-year old at my school who walked the halls singing “My War”. My early interest in activism and social issues only cemented my fascination with punk music and vice versa. Punk was the music of the downtrodden and alienated, of the disenchanted and the overlooked. It was all about fighting the unjust and the arbitrarily cruel.
Imagine my surprise then, when the very tour set up to celebrate everything punk, instead embodies the essence of everything punk music was originally created to combat. On the tenth anniversary no less. Somewhere, Henry Rollins is grimacing and cursing us all. Though I’m sure that happens pretty much every day regardless.
Not that it was all bad. The day started off well enough. The sun was shining, and the lines were remarkable well handled. I managed to make it through the turn-stall with a full bottle of water which was miraculous, since the security staff were frantically dumping bucketfuls of bottled water from back packs and purses. Forget about the dangers of dehydration and heat exhaustion, the fear of individuals sneaking in the odd bottle of alcoholic beverage disguised as water is apparently much greater. Either that or the fear that people will spend less money on the astronomically priced cans of warm beer found in the furtherst corner of the venue. I wonder how the under-privileged people of villages with no water wells would feel about the sight of bottle upon bottle of watery goodness pouring into a useless muddy stream. Oh and forget about taking a camera in to record all your festivities and fun. You must now purchase one from within the venue if you want a lasting account of all your Warped Tour merriment. Are you starting to see a pattern here? Even the very few activist groups I found set up inside seemed somewhat discouraged. Apparently it costs too much for them to bring along any merchandise to sell or promote themselves. The best they can do is hangout at one of the tables and try to catch the attention of the very dazed and confused masses meandering by. Oh Jello, where are you when we need you? At least the punk-voter tent was functioning at full capacity and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief at the sight of the countless anti-Bush messages and slogans that adorned their merchandise.
My faith mostly restored, I managed to have an incredible time. I was with my friends and enjoying the never disappointing music of greats like The Vandals and Bouncing Souls. All was good albeit expensive at Warped Tour until the truly heart rending catastrophe struck. We were on our way to one of the many stages to see the incredibly talented band Deville tear it up on stage when we noticed the huge mass of uniforms that had gathered en masse in front of Deville’s merchandise tent. The mix of various levels of security, staff, and police officers stood looking unapologetic and stoic as the boys from the band and their friends disassembled their gear and began what looked like the heart breaking task of packing up to leave. I frantically questioned the numerous uniformed officials and was informed that the band had been asked to leave because some of the individuals hanging out in the back of their tented area were drinking beer. I gasped at the very thought ... beer at Warped Tour? Had they gone mad? What place did beer have at a celebration of punk music and counter culture, I mean really! The uniforms ignored my sarcasm and went back to their official capacities of looking serious and authoritative. I asked the incredibly cute punk boys in the band what had gone wrong and silently imploded at the disappointment and utter regret that masked each of their unbelievably handsome faces. They had not been the ones drinking the beer, they had been too busy greeting fans, selling their wares and getting geared up to play to even notice the majority of what was happening behind them. I had been to their tent twice earlier in the day and I had not noticed the beer. And I would have been looking for it, believe me. At $ 5 a can, the sight of free bar can be a welcome sight for the financially challenged. Which is probably what got these poor guys in the trouble in the first place. A few well wishers and helpers hanging out in the back of the tent, enjoying the sunshine and the incredible music and ... having a beer. Is there such a terrible harm in that? It’s not like they were passing the beer out to minors or doing anything immoral, they were simply helping out their friends and enjoying a cold one on a hot day. A ritual most teen-agers are exposed to in their own homes on a regular basis I’m sure. But someone from The Warped Tour Powers That Be decided that this infraction was grounds for immediate banishment. So the very cute boys continued packing up their things and looking devastated and crushed, and I nursed my broken heart and felt the weight of my dear sick friend Punk fall squarely on top of me. How was it possible that one of the baddest punk bands on the tour was being exiled for what seemed like the most minor of infractions without any due cause or process, and no room for discussion or negotiation? They were simply told to leave, but not given any recourse for pleading their side. Worse still, the fear that this reprimand might result in an immediate dismissal from the entire tour. What was left of the scattered pieces of my heart blew away in a sudden dust storm and settled over the nearby landfill, could it get any worse? One of the few bands I had actually looked forward to seeing, was being cast off for engaging in behavior that was only remotely contrary to the unwritten contract of behavior that seemed to exist within the same lofty confines as the head officials the staff claimed had made the exile decision, but that could not be located or contacted in any way to dispute the extremely harsh penalty that had been levied. It’s been a long time since I have had my old school punk sensibilities so deeply offended. I tried one last time to reason with the plethora of uniforms that continued to watch with cold detachment as the boys watched their entire day swirl down the toilet bowl. Some of the security had softened their stance and seemed almost apologetic that they were responsible for the ultimate killing of joy that had transpired at their hands. Eventually most of them trailed off and the few that remained spoke the words, “Just disappear” before doing so themselves. It was a hard fought, minor victory, that did not even put a dent in the air of frustration that hung heavily over what was left of Deville’s merchandise tent.
We made the best of the day despite the fact that my punk heart had been broken and discarded like so much garbage. A lively and politically based performance by NOFX managed to soothe some of the pain and I was soon smiling and doing my best to stay on the side of positive. A few more trips to the beer garden for some over-priced beer and second hand marijuana smoke later, and I was almost happily strolling the merchandise village again and checking out the bands. One extremely good-looking punk boy stopped my friends and I to let us listen to his band’s cd. I listened carefully and after skipping past a few songs noticed the throng of young, female, wannabe-punk, girls surrounding their tent. I turned to my friend and laughed, “It’s not hard enough”, the last word leaving my mouth as I turned to see the cute punker boy’s face fall into the ground. I apologized profusely and excused myself by telling him that I was an avid listener of bands like Black Flag, Slayer, Death by Stereo, NOFX, Pennywise, and System of a Down. He looked sheepish and admitted that those tastes did not mesh with “their” sound. I swallowed a huge gulp of water to wash down my foot and laughed with my friends. The fact that their entire fan base was comprised of cute young girls should have predicted the fact that their music was not very hard. Pop punk is everywhere. I know I should just accept it and move on, but I can’t. I’m not ready to let my old friend go just yet. I was suddenly sad once again, for the loss of local band Deville from the day. It’s just that I feel that punk music should feel like a punch in the face when you listen to it, not a tickle in the ribs or a few pats on the bottom. It should be hard and loud and played with full-on ferocity and passion, and that is what Deville brings to the show, but alas it was not to be at this show. There is apparently no Patron Saint for exiled punks, only establishment “rules”, that are not to be broken under any circumstances. I know it is not even really the establishment’s fault, as such rules are for the most part created with thoughts of public safety and well being and liability concerns. I cannot fault them for that. Besides, I really cannot end this on a bad note because thankfully the universe saw to it that Warped Tour went out with a bang as well. The last performance I saw before the pelting water and hail rained down on us all, was one of the best of the entire day. Rise Against, I salute you! The lightening flashes in the background were a very nice touch, provided by nature. The effect was spectacular and crowd-pleasing to say the least.
And so with that ends my Warped Tour commentary. I guess you just have to take the bad with the good. I am EXTREMELY appreciative of the fact that “The Establishment” provides the Warped Tour at all. I have also since been told, that Deville is allowed to remain on tour for the rest of the dates and can now cement their ever-growing reputation as the once banished Bad Boys of punk. So suddenly things don’t seem so bad anymore. I guess I was just sad that one of my favorite punk bands, and a local band at that, was kicked off MY day’s line-up. Call me a bitter, old school, punk dinosaur that doesn’t want to lumber off and die. Just don’t call me old .....
Here is a sample .....
Heart-broken and Hailed on at Warped Tour
Yes, it’s true .... my heart was broken into a million tiny pieces of valve and aortic tissue at last week’s Warped Tour. And not by some tattooed juicer of a skate punk either . Oh no ... this cardiac thrashing came courtesy of the tour itself, that adorable and omni-present entity otherwise affectionately known as “The Establishment”. You see, I was raised on punk music. I had older sisters who embraced this form of expression and the counter culture and individuality it celebrated. Punks at this time were outcasts, misfits, and undesirables. They were rarely good looking, but embodied a sense of anti-authoritarian cool I found compelling and irresistible. I was instantly smitten and became the only ten-year old at my school who walked the halls singing “My War”. My early interest in activism and social issues only cemented my fascination with punk music and vice versa. Punk was the music of the downtrodden and alienated, of the disenchanted and the overlooked. It was all about fighting the unjust and the arbitrarily cruel.
Imagine my surprise then, when the very tour set up to celebrate everything punk, instead embodies the essence of everything punk music was originally created to combat. On the tenth anniversary no less. Somewhere, Henry Rollins is grimacing and cursing us all. Though I’m sure that happens pretty much every day regardless.
Not that it was all bad. The day started off well enough. The sun was shining, and the lines were remarkable well handled. I managed to make it through the turn-stall with a full bottle of water which was miraculous, since the security staff were frantically dumping bucketfuls of bottled water from back packs and purses. Forget about the dangers of dehydration and heat exhaustion, the fear of individuals sneaking in the odd bottle of alcoholic beverage disguised as water is apparently much greater. Either that or the fear that people will spend less money on the astronomically priced cans of warm beer found in the furtherst corner of the venue. I wonder how the under-privileged people of villages with no water wells would feel about the sight of bottle upon bottle of watery goodness pouring into a useless muddy stream. Oh and forget about taking a camera in to record all your festivities and fun. You must now purchase one from within the venue if you want a lasting account of all your Warped Tour merriment. Are you starting to see a pattern here? Even the very few activist groups I found set up inside seemed somewhat discouraged. Apparently it costs too much for them to bring along any merchandise to sell or promote themselves. The best they can do is hangout at one of the tables and try to catch the attention of the very dazed and confused masses meandering by. Oh Jello, where are you when we need you? At least the punk-voter tent was functioning at full capacity and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief at the sight of the countless anti-Bush messages and slogans that adorned their merchandise.
My faith mostly restored, I managed to have an incredible time. I was with my friends and enjoying the never disappointing music of greats like The Vandals and Bouncing Souls. All was good albeit expensive at Warped Tour until the truly heart rending catastrophe struck. We were on our way to one of the many stages to see the incredibly talented band Deville tear it up on stage when we noticed the huge mass of uniforms that had gathered en masse in front of Deville’s merchandise tent. The mix of various levels of security, staff, and police officers stood looking unapologetic and stoic as the boys from the band and their friends disassembled their gear and began what looked like the heart breaking task of packing up to leave. I frantically questioned the numerous uniformed officials and was informed that the band had been asked to leave because some of the individuals hanging out in the back of their tented area were drinking beer. I gasped at the very thought ... beer at Warped Tour? Had they gone mad? What place did beer have at a celebration of punk music and counter culture, I mean really! The uniforms ignored my sarcasm and went back to their official capacities of looking serious and authoritative. I asked the incredibly cute punk boys in the band what had gone wrong and silently imploded at the disappointment and utter regret that masked each of their unbelievably handsome faces. They had not been the ones drinking the beer, they had been too busy greeting fans, selling their wares and getting geared up to play to even notice the majority of what was happening behind them. I had been to their tent twice earlier in the day and I had not noticed the beer. And I would have been looking for it, believe me. At $ 5 a can, the sight of free bar can be a welcome sight for the financially challenged. Which is probably what got these poor guys in the trouble in the first place. A few well wishers and helpers hanging out in the back of the tent, enjoying the sunshine and the incredible music and ... having a beer. Is there such a terrible harm in that? It’s not like they were passing the beer out to minors or doing anything immoral, they were simply helping out their friends and enjoying a cold one on a hot day. A ritual most teen-agers are exposed to in their own homes on a regular basis I’m sure. But someone from The Warped Tour Powers That Be decided that this infraction was grounds for immediate banishment. So the very cute boys continued packing up their things and looking devastated and crushed, and I nursed my broken heart and felt the weight of my dear sick friend Punk fall squarely on top of me. How was it possible that one of the baddest punk bands on the tour was being exiled for what seemed like the most minor of infractions without any due cause or process, and no room for discussion or negotiation? They were simply told to leave, but not given any recourse for pleading their side. Worse still, the fear that this reprimand might result in an immediate dismissal from the entire tour. What was left of the scattered pieces of my heart blew away in a sudden dust storm and settled over the nearby landfill, could it get any worse? One of the few bands I had actually looked forward to seeing, was being cast off for engaging in behavior that was only remotely contrary to the unwritten contract of behavior that seemed to exist within the same lofty confines as the head officials the staff claimed had made the exile decision, but that could not be located or contacted in any way to dispute the extremely harsh penalty that had been levied. It’s been a long time since I have had my old school punk sensibilities so deeply offended. I tried one last time to reason with the plethora of uniforms that continued to watch with cold detachment as the boys watched their entire day swirl down the toilet bowl. Some of the security had softened their stance and seemed almost apologetic that they were responsible for the ultimate killing of joy that had transpired at their hands. Eventually most of them trailed off and the few that remained spoke the words, “Just disappear” before doing so themselves. It was a hard fought, minor victory, that did not even put a dent in the air of frustration that hung heavily over what was left of Deville’s merchandise tent.
We made the best of the day despite the fact that my punk heart had been broken and discarded like so much garbage. A lively and politically based performance by NOFX managed to soothe some of the pain and I was soon smiling and doing my best to stay on the side of positive. A few more trips to the beer garden for some over-priced beer and second hand marijuana smoke later, and I was almost happily strolling the merchandise village again and checking out the bands. One extremely good-looking punk boy stopped my friends and I to let us listen to his band’s cd. I listened carefully and after skipping past a few songs noticed the throng of young, female, wannabe-punk, girls surrounding their tent. I turned to my friend and laughed, “It’s not hard enough”, the last word leaving my mouth as I turned to see the cute punker boy’s face fall into the ground. I apologized profusely and excused myself by telling him that I was an avid listener of bands like Black Flag, Slayer, Death by Stereo, NOFX, Pennywise, and System of a Down. He looked sheepish and admitted that those tastes did not mesh with “their” sound. I swallowed a huge gulp of water to wash down my foot and laughed with my friends. The fact that their entire fan base was comprised of cute young girls should have predicted the fact that their music was not very hard. Pop punk is everywhere. I know I should just accept it and move on, but I can’t. I’m not ready to let my old friend go just yet. I was suddenly sad once again, for the loss of local band Deville from the day. It’s just that I feel that punk music should feel like a punch in the face when you listen to it, not a tickle in the ribs or a few pats on the bottom. It should be hard and loud and played with full-on ferocity and passion, and that is what Deville brings to the show, but alas it was not to be at this show. There is apparently no Patron Saint for exiled punks, only establishment “rules”, that are not to be broken under any circumstances. I know it is not even really the establishment’s fault, as such rules are for the most part created with thoughts of public safety and well being and liability concerns. I cannot fault them for that. Besides, I really cannot end this on a bad note because thankfully the universe saw to it that Warped Tour went out with a bang as well. The last performance I saw before the pelting water and hail rained down on us all, was one of the best of the entire day. Rise Against, I salute you! The lightening flashes in the background were a very nice touch, provided by nature. The effect was spectacular and crowd-pleasing to say the least.
And so with that ends my Warped Tour commentary. I guess you just have to take the bad with the good. I am EXTREMELY appreciative of the fact that “The Establishment” provides the Warped Tour at all. I have also since been told, that Deville is allowed to remain on tour for the rest of the dates and can now cement their ever-growing reputation as the once banished Bad Boys of punk. So suddenly things don’t seem so bad anymore. I guess I was just sad that one of my favorite punk bands, and a local band at that, was kicked off MY day’s line-up. Call me a bitter, old school, punk dinosaur that doesn’t want to lumber off and die. Just don’t call me old .....
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
knine:
My eyes are hurting now, maybe ill need to get some glasses 
franceypanties:
Hey ... nobody is forcing you to read anything!!!! Last time I checked, this was my journal page boy-o's!!!! I'm sure if I had a nekkid set of photos of my tattooed ass up there you wouldn't be complaining so damn much!!!!! Come back in about a month or so ... and stop your god-damned whining!!!