( ( synerjizzm ) )

Spent most of the weekend at Bingley Live, sitting around on my ass listening to bands that I’d never heard of before play to unappreciative Chavs in the audience.  It’s a three day music festival but I only went for one a half days all together, skipping Friday because I was having my blood pumped, and leaving early on Saturday because John Lyndon was playing and I think he’s a cunt.  Most of the bands Saturday were pretty shitty, mainly derivative indie junk that you’ve heard a million times before and forgotten about.  Sunday was actually pretty cool though.  I realised that most of the people I know like to spend their time shitting on things, not literally (obviously), just in a forced, pseudo-intellectual and ironic fashion.  On Sunday it was pretty hard to keep up these standards.  Seasick Steve was awesome and so was The Fantasy Funk Band.  Made me feel proud to be young and hip and in Bingley.

Went with my friend Emma.  We used to know each other in high school and then I disappeared and went overseas and we lost touch for a while.  Hanging around with her now I feel like I’m almost sixteen again, only I don’t get asked for ID when I try to buy beer and I’m not a little middle class punk that thinks he’s a class warrior (grew out of it).  Emma’s one of those people who will only listen to bands or music that are part of her musical tastes.  I on the other hand have reached the (edified) stage where it’s not the music that’s important but the experience of being there.  She was mortified that we had to stand around and listen to The Enemy (who were a bit shit) whilst I tapped her on the shoulder and tried to get her to embrace life and the gifts that it has to offer.  Maybe I should stop reading those self-help books.

I was trying pretty hard not to drink beer, mainly to stick to my yoga routine.  It  occurred to me though that if I go to a music festival and don’t drink anything then I really am becoming old and over the hill.  Inspired by this epiphany I ran to the beer tent and blew a thick wad (of change) on aforementioned beverage. Only had two, which is nothing to be ashamed of, did loosen me up a bit though and, quite embarrassingly I revealed my inner turmoil to Emma who listened as patiently as one can in the face of such impetuousness.  It was the first time I’d drunk alcohol in front of her since our reunion a few months ago.  She was cool.

Didn’t really learn much about life at the festival, maybe a few things.  There was a David versus Goliath moment when the Chav behind me on the mound kept sticking his foot in my back.  I don’t think he was doing it on purpose but nor did he seem to be aware of the fact that his foot was in my back.  After repeated tappings, I faced my biggest fear (social confrontation) and asked him to move his foot.  To my utter surprise (expecting a punch in the face) he did so.  For the rest of the afternoon he apologised obsequiously whenever a Pepsi bottle or a beer can came hurtling down the hill in my direction.  A small victory for skinny people everywhere.

Think I realised what one of the main differences between a regular (nice) working class person and a Chav is:  Chavs are working class and proud of it whereas the ‘nice’ ones always seem to have middle class aspirations of some kind.  I think it’s better to be proud of what you already are. Yeah…

Went into the sweaty mass of bodies at the front of the stage.  Had always seen such places on the telly but tried to avoid them in real life for fear of being murdered by some dancing scally.  Nothing much happened except for the fact that English people like to throw things, either at each other or at whichever band happens to be playing on stage (except Seasick Steve – nobody threw anything at him). Toilet rolls, bottles, paper cups, anything that could be projected through the sky was thus projected.  When I was in Japan nobody did this, maybe it’s something that only happens in England (and probably America).  What does it mean? What does it say about us?  Axl Rose walked of stage in Ireland the other day, which still counts because it’s part of the UK. because he was hit by a water bottle.  I can understand why people would throw shit at that douche, but why at each other, why at the people you don’t know?

Blah.