COACHELLA...

Let me start off by saying, that I never have any clue what I am doing... ever. Either that or I have been pretending not to know for so long, that I actually believe my own bullshit. I have been at Coachella for about a week now, doing basic stagehand work, lifting heavy things and giving them to people that know how to put it together. Slamming my hands between things nearly breaking my knuckles, gashing my forehead open with 8 ft. pipes, and trying not to make my knee blow out worse than it already is. I don't know how some people can sit in the sun for so long, going tanning and falling asleep on the beach and shit. I literally feel like a burnt piece of toast that has been used to wipe someones ass after being out in the desert all day, I didn't know I had freckles on my forehead... apparently I do.

Out of the many many bands performing this year, there is not one that has raised an eyebrow of interest, not even Duran Duran. I am here for the money. I am not here to join in on the shoelace headband, skinny jean brigade that is about to invade the "safety zone" in my head. Maybe I'm just a bitter old man now, or maybe I just have my own sense of style and don't really get into the whole follow the hipster thing. This summer I will be in Europe performing on stages just like the ones I am building, so that gives me a glimmer of hope to carry on with this muscle straining life I have created for myself. The crew I work with is rad, just a bunch of dirty, assbusting, ballbusting, scumbags, with shitty tattoos just like myself. They make the long, hot days rather entertaining. Danny calls it "scumbag summer camp."

I love my life and have absolutely no regrets, except for maybe not putting a condom on with a girl or 20.