There are two different types of people in the world: people who give out their email, and people who don’t give out their email. All the people who don’t give out their email (fucking hippies) are here today.
It’s nice they have the coffee tent out here on the corner and I imagine my dad or my brother loving it with their AA friends.
I used the porta potty on the hillside and it was very clean. It reminded me of when I was younger and I would watch my brother play Grand Theft Auto 3 on his PlayStation 2. There was a mission to knock a guy over inside of a porta potty, then proceed to put the porta potty in a hole and fill it with cement. That’s what I usually think about when I use a porta potty.
That’s when I realized the world could be so cruel.
I like walking and using my “wristband power” to get around each gate I wanna. Be nice if life was like this.
I want to talk about the marching band at the Oregon Country Festival that kicks everyone out at 8pm. It’s vendors only after dark. It’s cruel how happy we were to see them go. I painted the stripes on the tiger. I sat in our booth and waved goodbye.
While my coworker tells me about his summer love, I might love her even more. “Dude, this morning, she was singing, in my house”. I gave him my credit card to go buy her some gifts.
We are not making any money today. Either we suck, or everyone’s enjoying their Sunday in the Sun and Wind, broke from the weekend and glowing like glowsticks. You know how Sundays are…
I got myself a red skirt. It’s red red. Red like my car. Red like my phone case. Red like my favorite color. People walk by in it, and I point my finger to my coworker and say “That. That red is my favorite color”.
It’s summer and I’m 25. It’s 25 and I’m summer. My 25th summer (technically my 26th). My 26th summer wish is for it to feel as honest as turning one. Turning any age has a quickness to it… Like a bubble. Like a hummingbird.
Like a hummingbird