I know. I missed not one but TWO posting days. I was out at a country festival doing country things like drinking beer, wearing boots (I actually don’t wear a large variety of footwear), wearing jeans when any other Southern California native would wear board shorts (for THIS native, it means A LOT less sunscreen), eating legs that were advertised as being from a turkey but which I’m pretty sure were from a small species of pterodactyl, wearing cowboy hats (which I feel incredibly hott [2 ‘t’s] in. Can’t say too much as to how I look, but if the former [‘feels hott’] is greater than the latter [‘looks hott’] then I guess it doesn’t really matter then does it?), and, well, you know, listening to country bands play country music…because country and America, that’s why.

Anyways, that’s where I was with some friends and I decided not to bring my laptop because 1). I didn’t think I was going to WANT to write (Saturday rolled around and it turned out I had A LOT to say, which is encouraging, I suppose) and 2). I didn’t think I was actually going to have time to (I could’ve MADE time. I fucked up). The result is that I’m going to be writing A LOT this week and I’m going to be off schedule until I’m on schedule again, cuz I made a promise, Mr. Frodo. Let’s get to it then, shall we?

Firstly, I have a confession to make,

I didn’t want to go. *cue gasp…pause for dramatic effect*

I know, but it’s true. And to my friends who invited me, if you’re reading, I thank you and I love you but I don’t want to lie upon rethinking, I was not stoked about going. There, I said it. Now shut up, cuz I have some shit to say.

Oh, yeah, this post will probably Not be Safe For Work, but you’ll be cooler if you show it off…just sayin’

The first invitation came last minute, on my birthday, when I was stoked about being around great people, and great energy…while also being slightly intoxicated. But THAT’S not an excuse, nor should it ever be for anything.

“Oh, I was drunk I didn’t mean it”


That’s the mostest basicest (not a word, I’m aware) form of describing the  situation but ultimately I feel that that’s what it comes down to. Alcohol impaired your judgement, but even I’ve yacked from making out with someone who I would not have kissed on the cheek when I was sober (true story). No matter what alcohol says, your subconscious will tell you the truth. You were thinking or feeling that way even if you didn’t want to admit it.

That’s not the point.

I decided to go. I viewed the trip as fun, and spontaneous if not a little irresponsible and it was all those things. Everything I could have expected. But three days before we were going to leave, I had what addicts refer to as a moment of clarity.

Driving to work, thinking about life, I said, out loud, to absolutely no one:

“Fuck…I don’t wanna go.” I then proceeded to berate myself…*lemme just make sure I’m using ‘berate’ correctly… Yep, nailed it.* berate (good word) myself for making such an irresponsibly spontaneous choice to go play. But wristbands were bought, plans were set and there was no going back.

Plus, I’m one of those people who likes to, you know, FOLLOW FUCKIN’ THROUGH with the plans that I make. Flakiness is one of the least attractive characteristics in a human being, in my opinion, anyway. But yes, we did the thing, and it was good. I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy myself because I did very much. Even if I wasn’t, I would have, each of the three days, made a conscious decision to do so, if not for me, for my lovely country mates.

Be where you are when you’re there. Be in the moment.

Now, that doesn’t mean always be enjoying what you’re doing all the time, taking everything in with every ounce of your granola-crunching being…I don’t know what that means, but it sounds exhausting and I’m almost positive that’s not what I’m talking about.

No. I’m talking about being present where you are. I went to that country festival and had a blast. The only thing I wanted to do while I was there watching was play the drums in a kick-ass band on a big-ass stage for thousands of people. And I reveled in that the entire time. My favorite part? oh, glad you asked.

There’s a cat named Kip Moore, he’s a country rock-star. He was playing at the festival opening up for Kenny Chesney. During his set, he had this portion where it was just him singing some kinda charming string of words that only a country artist would be able to get away with. He stopped in the middle of his song, and said with a smile on his face to some girl in the audience who was filming him “Oh no no no, put that fuckin’ phone away, just look me in the eye and let me sing to you for a bit”

That, I think, is the epitome of what I’m gettin’ at.

A couple weeks ago, I was sitting alone, like I usually do, in a coffee somewhere in L.A. staring into space and time. I was watching this one couple (falling, of course, within the millennial demographic  of which I begrudgingly belong to) sitting across from each other, completely engrossed in whatever the fuck was on the respective screen in front of their face.

A few DAYS ago, I was standing at the bar that I provide security for (ok, I’m a bouncer, shut the fuck up) looking at this one dude completely disregarding the adorable girl that he had brought with him.

Now, I don’t know any of these humans’ back-stories. The only thing I can think to say…to lament about…to pound my fists, gnash my teeth, tear at my hair, and curse the sky about…

Fuckin’ BE WITH WHO YOU ARE WITH, WHERE, WHEN, HOW, AND WHY YOU ARE WITH THEM. YOU”RE THERE. BE…there. Be there. Then talk about why you were unhappy later. Until later arrives, suck it up and be there.

Who knows, you might like it.

As always, if you wanna talk at me, talk at me in the comments or whatever, I don’t bite…at least not if you don’t want me to.

Cheers, beautiful people,



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