Wednesday, September 30, 2009

ACL Fest, the Grunge.

Folks, if I hear any more about Austin City Limits Music Festival, I'll kill a stray animal...or a wild urban one. I normally don't mind missing out on the hordes of drunken assholes, sun-baked and sardine-packed in a field at Austin's own Zilker Park, but this year's three-day event culminates with a Sunday night performance by Pearl Jam. Pearl Jam. We're talkin' Ten, Versus, Vitology. These were puberty albums, people. I was air-guitaring "Even Flow" and stage-diving onto my twin bed well before my testicles eased into the pendulum mammoths that they are today. "Dissident" was on my mind the day I discovered and planted my eager face between a pair of real-life (and what were once described as "unattainable) boobies. "Corduroy" was the song I'd cheerfully whistle every time I'd climb out my bedroom window and down our backyard tree to unauthorized, midnight freedom.
Sigh. But I'm not going.
Cost was a factor but not really. The early bird three-day passes sold out a year ago for a measly 135 clams, and I'm quite sure I've since spent much more than that drugging myself with Blue Bell's glorious Rocky Road ice cream (my primary sleep agent) and gallons of Lone Star beer (my secondary). But I'm still not going. That's 135 dollars (185 by regular admission) that I could use toward my black sea of college debt or, even better, the Orion Sky Quest XT8i Computerized Intelliscope I plan on buying in order to search the heavens for signs of God or extraterrestrials or my parallel self staring back. I figure amateur stargazing is much more important than aging grunge bands or repaying that spider woman, Sallie Mae. So please, if you go to the ACL Fest this year, keep your goddamned stories of how plush the new irrigated turf was on your bare feet to yourself, and don't update your Facebook or Twitter status with which stage you're walking to either because I'll drive to your vacant home and lay a dead animal on your doorstep.

7 comments:

linda o said...

Your non-computerized Dobsonian telescope is lifelessly sitting in my sister's garage collecting dust and probably providing a nice home to scary, Texas sized arachnids. A little dusting and recalibration should be enough to bring it back to life. Or if you still want to be lazy and let a computer do all the work, sell it and you'll be a few dollars closer to your dream Intelliscope. :)

f8hasit said...

"well before my testicles eased into the pendulum mammoths that they are today"

THAT...is a loaded sentence. No pun intended.
:-)

Pen Pen said...

A HAHA! I LOVE grunge music, and Pearl Jam is a gem, but I hate music festivals! I think people forget what those places...smell like, and then they get to one and they're like, "Oh YEAH! I remember now! BLEH!"

C. Andres Alderete said...

Linda! Make it happen.

Nancy, I got your loaded sentence, right here.

Pen Pen, the smell of Port-O-Potties, vomit, sweat, and miscellaneous organic material is enchanting.

carma said...

If you are like my husband, you will get hours of entertainment from your telescope. We even had to bring the telescope on vacation to the beach with us last year so as not to miss some great celestial event. It was like a member of the family. A very well behaved and low maintenance one I might add.

Phillipia said...

I'd find a way to go to the music fest. It will save a lot of people from coming home to dead animals. And Pearl Jam is so worth the $185 - especially since it is your $185. If I had an extra $185, I'd have to use it for car maintenance.

Sarah-Jayne said...

All I can think of is pendulum mammoths between a set of unattainable (read: gold) boobs. Cool story though. I dig the imagery.

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