Up For Whatever: All Access Chill at the Gorge AKA Sasquatch 2015 The Kendrick Lamar Experience


How does one write about their experience at an American music festival? Those of you who have been to an American music festival, would know why this is so hard to write or talk about. Because your not just showing up to a show and watching some music, and drinking a few beers or whatever…maybe watching the show with your friends and going home…oh no…It is MUCH much more than that. It’s an entire immersive experience. There’s the intensity, the literal fear and loathing, and then the alchemical cleansing that washes over you, and you end up in this spot of fierce wonder and awe, faced directly with the beauty and unity that connects us all. There are a billion long running acid jokes that never get old, jokes that aren’t funny to anyone other than you and your friend group. There’s the collective moments that bind you together forever, because they go so deep, because you see and feel so much, and you will never forget the way you felt at that moment in time. It’s beyond a feeling, beyond a sound or an image or a color. It is everything. There’s the non stop sparkling of music and the stars, and that ever present knowing that you’ve made it here, at the right time, in the right place, with the right people. I took this wild ride with an amazing group of people at a personally significant time and place in my life. Sasquatch was an unbelievably mind blowing experience because my cool ass friend group came together and were up for whatever. We were also present, present in every single moment that we could be. We came together in our collective need for release and positive escape to a dreamscape that was rooted in nature and music.

We set out w our camping gear and our high quality party supplies…and we hit the road and embraced a sense of pure unadulterated American adventure. When driving to a festival you must be like Jack Kerouac in On The Road, you are leaving the world as you know it behind. Your work, your day job, your problems, they are not coming with you on this trip. Oh no. There’s no room. Your rental van that looks like a spaceship is already packed to the gills with expensive camping equipment and a huge cooler filled with beer, and about ten bottles of gin and 4 bottles Seagrams 7 and a bunch of crazy clothes and glitter. There’s no room for your phone, or texting people, or thinking about your job or how your going to pay rent next month, nope. You are purely here for the experience, for the music, and the whackiness, the ups and downs, the revelations…it’s all going to happen. And with Sasquatch, driving up from Portland (where we flew into and Blaire Bowers lives) the beauty of the land and the Columbia River was an appropriate setting for an American spiritual hajj to the temporary promised land. The Easy Rider, psychedelic America, buy the ticket take the ride mentality the journey to the festival and back from the festival is allllmmooossst as important as the festival itself. It’s the gateway, the portals between this world and the next. The ride up and the ride down can feature some of the most beautiful and memorable parts of the trip. Make sure you have road music and some sleep in you and money for the diner.

The drive up to Sasquatch from Portland, outside of Yakima, WA
The drive up to Sasquatch from Portland, outside of Yakima, WA

So lets get to the particulars of Sasquatch. The Sasquatch experience. I haven’t been to a ton of festivals but I’ve been to some like Jazz Fest being a former New Orleanian) and smaller ones like Andy Animals Meltdown. Jared Smith warned me there would be alot of Canadians. And you know what? There was. Lots of Canadians. Like a lot. (Sorry eh!?) Also lots of people who you look at while your tripping and think “my God” or “where the fuck am i? who ARE these fucking ppl”  (insert Ralph Steadman drawing here) Not a fashion forward festival. If your into style your not going to see a lot of people that you think are cool. Really the first 2 days of the festival, I was straining to see someone who was dressed cool and couldn’t. Not one person besides my friends. In fact it was literally the opposite. Everyone I looked at was terrifyingly frightening. I was on a lot of acid but hey….As the weekend went on though, the crowds seemed to get cooler and better. Less fat guys with backpacks and hollow eyed girls wearing tired booty shorts and more psychedelic young kids who looked like you could be in a room with them and not want to freak out or puke. Especially by Monday, the last day at Sohn. The crowd was definitely the coolest at of any other show I had been too at the fest. The positives of the crowds though, was that we were the coolest kids there (duh) and the people were scary looking, but not super sketchy. I never felt unsafe walking around. I never felt like meth heads were gonna rock up behind me slam me for my wallet. I mean I guess that safety is pretty typical at festivals, people being chill and all but yeah. Also a positive of the Sasquatch experience, the curly fries were awesome. But the REAL positive…..the real deal, is basically the reason that you came , and the only thing cooler than seeing Lana Del Rey on acid, is the fucking gorge.

Ralph Steadman's The Lizard Lounge 1971
Ralph Steadman’s The Lizard Lounge 1971 or how I felt Saturday night at Sasquatch

The Gorge is the lifeblood of the festival. There is no Sasquatch without the Gorge. In fact, there is no you without the Gorge. You and the Gorge are one, you and your friends and the Gorge are forever linked, bound by some sacred natural law that was unknown to you until you saw the Gorge for the first time.The Gorge is your ever present spiritual flame leading you into the ever present moment in front of you. The Gorge is there when you look up after laughing, the Gorge is there when you look up after crying. The Gorge is there when you softly touch your lovers hair, the Gorge is there when your slamming a bottle of water trying to stave off a low key puke, the Gorge is there constantly behind your favorite musical artists. The Gorge is always there, gently holding you, ushering you into each and every state and elevation of your consciousness. Not every musician at Sasquatch performs at the main stage in front of the Gorge but the artists we saw in front of the Gorge ( which I will talk about in a few) included Gogol Bordello, Chromeo, Lana Del Rey , Modest Mouse, Sleater Kinney and Tame Impala, oh yeah and Kendrick Lamarr, who made the huge blunder of somehow forgetting he was playing outside of a fucking GORGE and said “Hows everyone doing in the building tonight?” What? Are you fucking serious? Kendrick, your playing behind a massive fucking gorge…were outside seated on a godamned amphitheater! We are not inside any fucking building. Go back to playing Mad city 6 times (true story) please and wrap this shit up. It’s fucking windy on the Gorge.


We had the best campsite at the festival. Literally we had cool chill neighbors on one side and nothing on the other. It was just an extra lot where a campsite should have been. So we had our own lawn, (we deserved it) and about a few hundred feet away we had the bathrooms and a water spicket. Also a really, really, really good view of the Gorge. Which as I mentioned earlier is a super important part of your Sasquatch experience. Because, unlike Kendrick Lamarr, we were very aware we were, at all times in front of an epic beautiful piece of nature. And we made the best of it. We were a group of young kids very much oriented on the American dream, and so we righteously took precautions to make this even as psychedelic as humanly possible. Like a group of kids who had pasts lives in the 1960’s and reunited magically in 2015, we sat on blankets and outside chairs (the kind with the cup holders) and made fantastic cocktails and smoked cigarettes and enjoyed the sun and looked at the Gorge. That was it. Just music, and ourselves and our sunglasses and the Gorge.  We were so beautiful on the Gorge, so purely ourselves, un-encompassed by bullshit and the post recession political doomsday and paying rent and all that bullshit. We were purely divine beings, perched atop the ledge of the Gorge, looking out into heaven, into infinity. Drinking a Seagrams 7 and Ginger Ale and coming up against the walls of our own identity, and our subconscious and breaking them down, scattering the ashes into the Gorge. We were living a Gorge oriented lifestyle. Getting up and smoking weed and making cocktails and dropping Fluff Family Acid and just chilling, staring out in the gorge. We became absolute pioneers of absolute chill. It was like God came down from heaven and gave us an all access chill pass. No, it was like we gave ourselves an all access chill pass.

sunny times ….view from our campsite
gorge drama
view from the site…storm vibes

Last part: Long Way Down….The music. Gogol Bordello kicked off the festival for us like ancient shamans leading us out of the underworld into the light. Their pure ENERGY was so explosive, so healing so pure, it set the tone for the entire festival. We weren’t even ON anything at that  point (actually a little bit of coke) but even still, Gogol Bordello was everything.I’m not going to say anything about Sleater Kinney but Carrie Brownstein really tried. Corin Tucker seemed like an “over it” super tired about to retire indie princess that was bored shitless with being on stage and Carrie Brownstein was all like “I need to kick this up a notch but I don’t want to piss off Corin” and that was pretty much the vibe of the entire show. Flume was intense, not great but then again I wasn’t on anything really yet and plus its just Flume… Coming up on acid while Chromeo was playing was everything you would think that would be. Super sparkly and really dancey and really fun. Like REALLY fun. They’re really awesome live. Glass Animals was scary for me because I didn’t know which side of the stage we were on, and they seemed really, really, really, really far away. Our cute little friend group was just standing outside of the tent with a bunch of people in like dirty furry suits and glo sticks who didnt even LOOK like they could even KNOW who Glass Animals were, and that really freaked  me out. I was in the fear and loathing zone at this point. We ditched to go sit on the hill at the Decemberists were playing which was fucking hilarious, because wow what a bunch of like fake folksy partriotic nerd herds. We really felt the Canadians vibes with there like hyper phony Americana bullshit and someones fucking mom on stage singing and then like a huge paper mache hipster whale…it was gross.  Also we couldn’t really hear them, which was really funny. And pretty fortunate because they suck. But the Canadian ppl were WAY into it. So then Modest Mouse comes on with a FUCKING LASER and we start peaking and they play super fluid and intense and we are tripping balls and Isaac Brock stops the show and starts talking about going down to the swamp that’s at the entrance of the festival and hanging out with the snakes and the alligators and eating them and then he starts playing again and there’s MORE LASERS….

And there were some causalities of war as well. We missed Future Islands and Shovels and Rope because well, we were chilling so damn hard on the Gorge we couldn’t make ourselves get up and dressed in time for the show. But we sure as hell didnt miss James Blake and Lana Del Rey. Seeing Lana Del Re yon acid was the highlight of my year. Seeing her with my amazing cool as shit boyfriend (who shamanisiticly led us through our drug induced spiritual exaltation that was our festival experience) was the most affirming thing I have ever experienced. I was clearly in the right place, at the right time, with the right people. I had after all, this past year, with the aid of Lana’s music fought for a new life. Her new album had been released at the same time I moved away from New Orleans to California and I felt like the themes in Ultraviolence mimicked my own struggles and personal chaos and later triumph. And now here I was seeing her live, exactly one year later with this amazing person, and Blaire Bowers my best friend and the entire Weather Tech Team on this hill, and we were all up for whatever under this starry sky encompassed by the gorge and unending love, and endless knowing. We were all really special and unique and beautiful and funny and natural born entertainers and it was like we were exploding out of ourselves, full of life and jokes and fervor, and happiness and knowing and not knowing all at the same time, and Lana, Lana was the climax. She was ascended, she was re birthed in white on stage. She had been where I had been and she was elegantly sharing her triumph and glory with me, with all of us. She stops mid set playing her own songs to gracefully sit and take center stage to play Chelsea Hotel  (unexpected surprise) and then she closes with Off to the Races, and there’s this huge video of scattered and abrupt old images, images of women from the 50’s dancing, and lights and stock footage of America and New York City and its cut so fast, and there’s so much urgency, its in her voice and on stage and in the lights and I realize through her art Lana is mimicking a psychotic experience. And I feel that, because I’ve had that, and Lana gets me, she understands and I understand her, and there’s a beautiful sacred symbiosis. She is the best performer of our generation for those that know. She is a lost American angel, the goddess that went down into the underworld and rose back to this world with the white light to deliver the gift of her transmuted pain into the hands of those that are listening. She glamorous and humble and hurt, but a warrior and a princess and a muse. And she’s telling me that we can do the same, she’s telling me, urging me to translate life into art, but she is the queen and that performance took me out of my head. I was sitting on the vista of a whole new era in my life, the wind wipping my hair, Lana Del Rey gleaming and beckoning from the stage that the pain was over and life full of fun was beginning. A life where I could be free to be me, to be inspired and inspire others, a life of music and art.  As Blaire said “Lana is an understood, she’s a part of us and every other young woman who feels what she feels”

So after that James Blake was pretty casual. But super psychedelic and great, because its James Blake and it was just great.

So by the last day, we made it out before nightfall to the gorge to see Tame Impala. Which was the grand psychedelic culmination of the fest. Everyone was dressed with a tinge of the 60’s and everything had that sun setting and good vibes kind of glow to it. The scariness had been watered down, eradicated, swallowed into the Gorge. Now all that was left was people like us, young people with passion and tact, spirit and fashion sense. It just felt different. And we went up one last time and prepared ourselves for Sohn, Run the Jewels and Kendrick Lamarr.

Walking into the “EDM” ish tent at Sasquatch (i forget the name) and waiting for Sohn was like coming in for a landing on a planet that ruled and that you totally missed. Finally there was cool people, people with fashion ideals that I recognized, and admired even. After what felt like weeks of North Face and hoodies, and the same damn booty shorts, and bad posture and there were finally some people around me that got it. Sohn was amazing, singing his heartfelt singer song writer jams on a varied amount of super psychedelic synthesizers. He was really really good live and I would def see him again.

My boyfriend was watching Run the Jewels while Blaire and I were watching Sohn, so I aksed him to write some stuff about and he says: ” tag team rampage, dad rappers showing up the younger generation, crowd wasn’t really holding their end of the whole call-&-response thing but RTJ just amped their own energy up to compensate for the overly chill crowd.” They were so loud that we could hear them playing on the Sohn stage every time he switched songs.

And finally Kendrick Lamarr. Who I told you didn’t realize that he was in front of a fucking Gorge on the Columbia River but was still pretty good. Although when he played MAAD City 3 time sin a row I thought I was going to lose my shit.

Also I forgot to mention we accidentally wandered into Robert Plant singing “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You” but walked away…LOL

gorge festival hill

So that’s it. We went back and slept, and woke up which was hard, and deflated the air mattresses and took down the Weather Tech Tent and the outside tent and got a jump for the battery of our space van because it had died along time ago,  and got on the road. And it’s been one month since we were all the the Gorge but the Gorge has us by our hearts and its burned into our past and our future and our memories are still real. Memories of the dream we created for ourselves at the Gorge amphitheter still resonate and color our lives. Our lives will never be the same after the Gorge and Lana Del Rey and the whole damn thing and I can’t wait for next year.


Harbinger of Broken Hope: Lana Del Rey and Ultraviolence


Lana Del Rey. The ethereally sad glamour girl from our generation singing talk of unrequited love, careless distraction, Ultraviolence, lame hipster girls who smoke dro, and time out of mind in an America gone wrong. Ultraviolence is the simultaneous death and birth of our generations idea of American cool, the myth of the West Coast, and the deadly glamour of love affairs that are made of smoke and broken mirrors.

There’s a big difference between who Lana Del Rey IS and what she represents. She is speaking from the heart about heartbreak and knowing what its like to just want to disappear, but not being able too. All the while she brazenly faces the unknown as a fire walker who takes that last breath before stepping on the hot coals.

I hate to say this, but if you don’t get it, you don’t get it. If you’ve never been a broken hearted sad and well read girl from Upstate New York, the music probably isn’t going to ring THAT true to you. But if you ARE, (Chaya Pierson and Oriana Fine I’m looking at you….) then you REALLY get it. You’ve stood in her shoes, you’ve seen what she’s seen and you’ve felt what she’s felt. You know about the pain and loss of an America gone awry, you know what it’s like to wait for someone who never comes, you know what Ultraviolence means and you know how to stay graceful through all of it. 

Lana’s new album is a departure from the hip hop backed Born To Die days of a few years ago. She’s burrowed down the rabbit hole of darkness just a little further, lending a more woozy California swing to her sad melodies and escalating minor chords. Her lyrics are also drenched in California references, painting a rich and vibrantly lit black and white landscape for Lana to tirelessly and languidly stroll through. From love affairs ending in “Cruel World”, “Ultraviolence” to new ones beginning (or never really getting off the ground,) with “Pretty When I Cry”) she takes us from the past to the present with unflinching honesty, sadness, and the psychedelic surrealness of someone who knows their way around the terrain of synchronstic experiences of loss and love. Someone like Lana couldn’t get hurt that hard without throwing herself into full throttle right? She not only sings the tales of experiences that she threw herself into, but also throws her voice, her range, her style full throttle into the album. We hear a Lana Del Rey who’s taken the trip, and found herself at the other end. She’s no longer Lolita lost in the hood, she’s the sarcastic ex freaknik who’s seen the dessert, drank the kool aid, bought the leather jacket and lived to tell the tale, American flag in tow. 

The narcotic swing of the songs only further accentuates the death of the American dream, “Money Power and Glory” reads like a hypnotic psycho Funeral March of Generation Y….A Generation beat down by rap music, the hyper materialism of the 80’s and the true death of the American Dream. The surreal surf rock riffs of ” Shades of Cool”  and “West Coast” serve to reinvent the genre, taking us out of the stale idea of Dick Dale and Pulp Fiction, and launching us straight into modern day Los Angeles. Seeing the world in black and white and seamlessly uniting the glamour of the mid 1960’s with the gritty glamorous uncertainty of today.

The boldest move on the album is “Fucked My Way Up to the Top”, which matches the fresh and witty sarcasm of “Brooklyn Baby” with an angry vengeance. An answer to all the people saying she has indeed fucked her way up to the top, she writes a song about it. Bringing back a super trill goth-hop beat and soaring vocals with a little twist of crazy, Lana sets the record straight, even saying she got tested and she passed (yes). Ballsy move Lana. Cheers.

The crowning jewel of the album though, is the title track, Ultraviolence. With its sad, bangy piano ad its soaring viola solos, and consistent but thrashing drums, Lana sings of being in love with an abusive cult leader named Jim, and feeling like abuse equals love. This is my favorite song on the album for clearly personal reasons. Ultraviolence was inspired by the Crystals 1963 song “He Hit me and if Felt Like a Kiss” and the song feels like it brings us not into 1963 but straight into the surreal and creepy terrain of 1969..(also another shout out to Upstate NY in Ultraviolence,  Lana sings “we can go back to Woodstock, where they don’t know who we are”)

The album feels like a weathering a  cool storm in a convertible.  A magical summer thunder shower with rainbows, broken hearts and mirrors, that ends in a cleary, ultra starry sky. It both mourns and gives hope, it both inspires and at times, terrifies. It is both nostalgic and brand new, like walking off the edge of the past into the unknown. And I certainly know what that feels like ❤ 


Day Two

Nobody realizes that I’m screaming inside, or that I’m losing control over my body and mind. Or really no one notices that I’m gaining control over my body by gaining control of my weight. I am locked in. I’ve rolled past the safe and elating part of rediscovering your eating disorder.Right past the part where u feel really happy, like everything’s going to be fine and you think about how cute you’ll look in leggings or big sweaters. Right past that point where everything is golden and sunny and glowing and happy, and you feel that first rush of excitement, that surge of something new but familiar. I’ve run right out of the valley and into the penitentiary , to where you can hear the prison doors lock behind you and you look back and realize there is no way out. You You know this thing is bad for u like an ex lover or a drug but you cant live without it. You cant live with your body fat and looking bloated and disgusting. You only have one choice. To not tell anyone and proceed. To get, and to stay thin. To be elegant and light, slow and deliberate. Your slow when your fat. You take things for granted you’re your fat. You talk and eat and think like a pg because you are a pic. But when you are thin you are a princess. You are elegant. Your posture is better, you have grace and poise. You feel the water beads on your arms and legs getting out of the shower. You really feel the water gently wave on your toes. The little waves are beautiful s they lap up and around you. You don’t notice this when you are a whale, dragging yourself to drag your dead weight to Burger King to get food. Just like our friends don’t notice you. They don’t notice that your sad, or crazy or feel stuck between life and death. They wouldn’t notice anything unless u posted it on Facebook. People barley call or text you. People don’t talk about pressing issues, or even slightly emotional ones. So you shouldn’t either. So you are left to lie alone, in your living room holding back shuddering sobs. Or if they do know they just coo at you like a dumb pigeon that you are fine the way you ate and you don’t need to lose weight. None of them understand. They don’t feel the pressing glass coffin. They don’t hear the living breathing death bell. My house feels like a morgue. The hazy cloudy late afternoon light lazily saturates the windows, and barley illuminates the sick pale green curtains. I am stuck between this world, and the next. I can not go back now, i cant let this be taken from me.
But my stomachs starting to flatten
But my hip bones are beginning to show
But my thighs will get smaller
But it’ll be ok.
The endorphins return. I decide to pony up and get on my bike. Not to burn calories, but to get some fresh air


I feel like a bomb is going off inside my body. I feel like I am starving, dying to eat anything, cereal, bread and butter, a cheeseburger from mcdonalds, anything. but i cant. i wont let myself. id rather die than shove calories and fat into my mouth. i feel like im going to scream or explode or implode. just one bite. just one smell of something. this is what cutting off your calories does. this is what its supposed to do. i reassure myself. this is all part of the game. the game you play with yourself to show you who’s stronger. to show the realms around you how divine you be, how pure. how you can resist shoving garbage into your mouth because you are light and elegant. your a princess. your air. your a goddess. this is your life, as you deal with it one second at a time. one feeling at a time. it’s not an eating disorder, this is healthy. I am fine, you tell all your friends, or you dont tell them anything, they probably wont notice anyways. even if they do they wont say anything because people dont talk that much to each other now a days. but you’ll know. you’ll look down and see the difference in your thighs and stomach and know its working. your working. your doing something, your in control and its safe here. where you plan your meals and exercise and let yourself eat fast food once a month. its going to be ok. its all going to work and your going to look great in your jeans and feel great because you got this. stay strong.

Veils and Possibilities, my bff Morgan Evans posts! (yay!)

Morgan Y. Evans - grunge kid's love eggnog, acid and trampolines

Veils and Possibilities a.k.a. Cliff Notes From The Glass Onion by Morgan Y. Evans

Hi. It is my pleasure to be guesting on Darla’s blog for the 2nd time and I’d like to say it feels really Rawesome to be back. Darla accidentally typed that word to me in response to a text tonight and I think it was a typo of destiny. I mean, that word really could sum up my world view, but…Ok, let’s get started.

I intend the following to be a brief rant about perception, identity and mystery. I’m sure I’ll use a lot of music based references as examples and weird random occult, historical or nerdy stuff, ‘cuz that’s a part of my interests that is really not a mystery at all.

I was thinking recently after a few beers how it must suck for Superman to have had to adjust to not changing in a phone booth since there aren’t many remaining these days. I mean, there’s got to be a certain exhibitionist streak in his subconscious since the best way to keep your secret identity isn’t to only wear glasses as a disguise and then rip your suit off in a small, transparent public enclosure in plain sight on busy streets to reveal a bright blue suit with a red cape. I guess he has had to adapt or face up to his fetishes.

Today, a few weeks post-Superman musing, I was reading a review of a re-released Hammers Of Misfortune album that said how the band’s output has often seemed a bit schizophrenic in that it has involved more and more styles since their inception in the late 90’s. In fact, that band is pure genius and HoM can do almost no wrong as far as I’m concerned. I’ve always been in bands of my own that were allowed to throw anything into the stylistic mix, so it seems only natural to me to expect a band’s sound to adapt (even a group that is ingeniously formulaic like my beloved Ramones showed a lot of variety over the years if you really listen closely). The HoM review got me thinking about facets, however.

Few would have expected the wasted, disengaged Duff from old Guns N’ Roses album sleeve to turn out to be a very savvy businessman. I know very seemingly “normal” people who are amazing crafts hobbyists or decidedly into really weird shit or are very well informed or at least strive to be on topics considered esoteric. I kind of think about this all the time. Keith Caputo of Life Of Agony, one of my favorite singers of hard rock ever, recently got a sex change. Did a lot of tough guys expect that? No. Does (now) Keith Mina’s lifestyle decision effect how I view his/her art? Of course not.

Keith Caputo-Life of Agony

The seven veils of Salome are really compatible with the idea or a Mandala of pure Samsara, a metaphor for the intoxication and allure of mystery but also a good anchor image for reflecting upon when considering how layered the human psyche really is. We are the glass onion, even when we forget so ourselves and become boring, complacent TV dinner types. Every person has way more layers than you know which shapes their karmic lens of seeing and being.

Salome - Gustav Moreau

Does anyone really ever know anyone? I am far from the first to ask this? I often have fun with persona as a social exercise and certainly hope no one would define me purely on the silly antics I get up to some times in public. In fact, despite my manic tendencies at times, I usually like to be mellow and read books and then occasionally rock really, really hard. John Stewart was talking about Occupy Wall Street on his show and said that the media had gone from “blackout” to “circus” and that unfortunately those are its’ only two settings (hahaha). While in that case there is a social agenda for marginalizing a movement that is worldwide and in the vested interest of the corrupt to suppress, it is shitty how often in life we assume other people to have less depth. R. Kelly discussed in “Trapped In A Closet” how we all often fail to see the bigger picture.

Really, we all have the ability to startle people who have only thought of us certain ways. I can’t even begin to tell you how many people are startled I can sing even though I have done it for almost 20 years publicly and never stuck in one vocal stylistic rut as a singer over the years. I guess my wild stage show or (more likely) shitty club sound systems distracted from their ability to process what I was really doing. Anyway…

Ahh, the secret identity. I suppose we all have some sides of us that are secret or (especially) compartmentalized. How many mild mannered people do you know who show a decidedly different side of themselves in different social situations? Some people lead entirely different lives than what they portray and you have to get inside the trust circle to find out. Maybe it is out of necessity or maybe they are freaks or just have sids of themselves that are their own. There are dramatic cases in everyday life and especially in history or even mythology…shit gets interesting.

One of the most interesting characters in Greek Myth is Caeneus. Originally a female, she was raped by the God of the Sea, Poseidon. Poseidon then granted Caeneus the wish of being transformed into a male warrior (all kinds of issues power issues in this Myth that I am going nowhere near right now) and he/she was basically “More Human Than Human”, basically nearly unbeatable. Caeneus was eventually driven to the ground with timbers in battle with Centaurs, who you think would be more sympathetic towards a transgender/transformed hero/heroine considering it is probably hard finding acceptance when you are part human, part fucking horny horse!

Caenus and Centaurs....Horny Horse

I was also reading recently about Ann Marrow of the late 18th Century who was blinded by a mob who pelted her with rotten fruit because she had impersonated a man and married three separate women to cheat them of their dowry. Personally, I think that is pure, rawesome, rock n’ roll!! Damn. I mean, that story has fucking everything going for it. It is just begging for someone to come along and make a movie of it where Ann is a total bad ass and the poor widows were actually all pathetic little shrews who deserved to be swindled (so much for my objectivity, hahaha). I loved the book AN INSTANCE OF THE FINGERPOST where a lot of the people you think are benevolent characters or, vice versa, the most maligned are in fact the complete opposite. On a somewhat related note, it is no revelation that fashion can be used to manipulate reality drastically, often creating magic when all the elements come together. This is the allure of fashion that I think a lot of people who think all fashion is empty vanity overlook. You have so much creative freedom in the medium. Just because there are a lot of vapid people involved in that industry doesn’t mean it isn’t also one of the most amazing places for groundbreaking ideas that shape perception to take place/lace.

I guess my point here is that you should never underestimate anybody and especially yourself. You can do so much and be so many things, often all at the same time. I’m trying to learn all kinds of things nowadays that used to intimidate me, for example.

I remember meeting a young kid on a bus ride in Ohio once and he seems like this super green kid and it turned out he was only 18 and had been drafted by The Reds to be in their farm system to become a pitcher in Major League Baseball. Whether you are a repressed artist or an aspiring designer or dancer or sexually closeted or an average joe or jane who is used to their routine and thinks there isn’t room to shake things up, listen to yourself (or yourselves as the case may be). If you don’t talk to strangers you’ll never meet anyone new. Shutting out foreign ideas leads to stagnation. AND…If you never try on different shoes you aren’t going to find the ones that fit.

Cheers,Namaste and Gabba,Gabba Hey. -MYE 7:39 PM Oct 22nd,2011