Sierra Nevada World Music Festival @ Boonville

[Drunk Monk]

Dm survived yet another one, this time completely unscathed (unless you count the naggingly sore, raw, torn-up, used & abused, burnt, shredded organ that used to be dm's windpipe, but dm has no one to blame but himself for that). Let's see, rewinding to the very beginning, on Thurs, dm got up late, packed haphazardly, bid his family adieu, deposited his paycheck, got gas, dropped $80 on liquor (guinness foreign export, mcewans red ale, smithwicks - which form red, green & gold labels, coincidentally, and some 13-year balvanie double cask). The ride up was gorgeous - never seen it so green. There was a glorious array of wild flowers all the way up. Despite warnings of the 3 o-clock roadblock, dm wound up tailgaiting truck and tourist, headed up to boonville, and never even got the open opportunity to speed into a speedtrap. In fact, it was an exercise in patience. Dm arrived in good time (1:30) and set up very close to his spot last year, in the junkyard affectionately called 'yaard' (yaard is a JA slang for kingston's poorest section, the tenement yard, which is a sprawling slum of corrugated steel shacks and driftwood, built in an old sewage channel - to be from 'yard' is major street cred for JAcans). There was a cut-up tree in his old spot, so he parked it right next door between an auto chassis propped up on oil drums, a refrigerator corpse, a tarped display of vintage chainsaws (sadly bolted down) and the ass-end of a huge trailer. As soon as dm was settled, it began, the constant assault on his lungs and liver. It was moving from one mmomment from another, refreshing the brewski in between, after all, all that was to be done was to assist the rest of the crew in coming in, a task dm could tackle quite heavily under the influence. the mmed movement has spawned greatness at reggae shows - out of control mmmadness actually, and for a mmedaddict like dm, it's like mmmecca. dm was dressed with a black-collared shirt and cap, which gave him a very official, almost cop-like appearance with the bald head, which freaked out several jahmedders. one young jm responder was shouting 'it's not right, it's not right!' the weather was perfect - sunny, yet a cool breeze, so hot enough to reduce nachette fashion to skimpiness, but not hot enough to make one crave shade and water. dm didn't stay up too late on that first night, although truth be told, he doesn't quite remember how late that was. dm had packed poorly, not much food, not the right clothes, but a fair amount of cash as he had just been to the bank, but being on a budget, dm hoped not to spend anything. he only bought a tara magnet for t and a heart-shaped chunk of himalaya salt (for baths) for s, but that was it. at first, he was scrounging for vittles having only brought some leftover vegan carrot cake (which was about to be tossed out because it wasn't very good) and a granola bar t gave him that was given to her at the gymno pool party for no rational reason whatsoever. but then the onslaught came. food, Food, FOOD. jm treats it's vols really nicely with lots of food and snacks, even two vols from the culinary academy to prepare more food. that, on top of the copious beer (one guy brought his own keg of homemade ale, which was delicious, dubbed jah med ale 2011, and drunk completely by fri) and the copious mmed, it was another weekend of gluttony for dm, so much so that dm is still hungry because he stretched the walls of his stomach to accommodate more than usual. eat, drink, smmoke, stroll, repeat. there really weren't any psych calls, so dm just indulged in the gluttony. strangely, dm didn't really engage the music or the vendors. constant taste tests and samplings of mmeds of all kinds, bud, hash, oil, tinctures - dm even tried his first salve which didn't have much of a notable effect given the mmmass gluttony. dm left his notes at home so he can't really remmmemmmber much more from fri, except having a crimminal ammount of fun. a whiskey duel with the doc was a draw. dm's 12 year balvanie was smooth as butterscotch. the doc's 12 year peat monster (that was the title) was bitingly good, robust and a sharp contrast. a good duel for sure. on the extreme negative, a major portion of Yaard was given over to a band - rebelution - which sucked. the band was young, pop reggae (bubblegum reggae one jm vol called it). dm actually had backstage passes and watched them until he could stand no more. once the spliff was finished, the crew moved on to find something better to do. they turned yaard into a frat house. there were two beer pong tables, speakers, lots of groupies, another keg (they kept inviting dm to drink with them, but it just wasn't his scene). it was dreadfully annoying. at 4:20 am, LBso was serving up pancakes at that vendor's booth to a dozen of us nitekrew. for some reason, she decided dm's pancakes should be breast shaped, but that totally failed with her attempt to make batter nipples. nevertheless the thought was surely appreciated. after that, dm went back to medical for a call - a bad cut, possibly severed tendon, and the sugar crash had dm nodding out in his chair until several people said 'go to bed' which he did. all in all, dm was in an odd mood for the show - somewhat reflective about it all and what it means in the grand picture of dm's life. In dm's notes on SNWMF there was mention of 'Skrotalak' which is to be the name of a villain in some upcoming work. It was actually something LBsol said about scrotal lac(erations) when she was in PA gross out mode. That's wincing for ya. She told dm another story about having to remove a splinter from a young girl's clitoral hood that... One missed note: on Thur, dm had a checklist of the psych krew arrival times so he could aid and abet (assist) the incoming and knowing the inundation of mmeds, a checklist is handier than trying to constantly access mmmemory banks. Upon dm's 3rd of 4th check, he noticed the checklist was stained by mmed oil, rubbed off of a cookie he didn't quite finish and that struck him as really funny at the time - more evidence of the mmmad scene emmerald triangle reggae can be. Anyway, there weren't too many calls for psych. There was one psycho issue, but it was more of a police thing as the perp was intoxicated and decided to drive off and then return in his rv so when the cops had him, it was a dui. Not much psych could do - he wasn't really high anyway. he was just an ass. There was also this drunk chick that broke her ankle. she left the venue, had surgery where a plate and half a dozen pins were inserted in her ankle, then returned to the show. now, what kind of fool comes back to a show after that? it was absurd, a blatant cry for attention playing that sympathy card, which was completely absurd. Other than that, it was a grand time ... too short really, but too long in a way too.

I'm getting a little burnt out on the scene, mostly because despite all the fun, i wasn't moved by the music or particularly inspired by anything. It was great to see JM friends and hang out - that part was too short - but my take on the scene has been about seeking that muse, the quest for the holy muse. I'm getting more from my training now and feeling my connection to RM/JM fading a bit...I'm still committed to both causes, but not as committed as before. Again, I feel I have less stake in it all.