Who doesn't love a little Gossip?
I do, I do, I do. Meet me and my dirty boots and my "Yes, alright, I'm going to Hardly Strictly but don't you think for a second that I LIKE IT" outfit.
The thing is, I hate crowds. I hate masses and masses of teeming people who are obnoxiously high on drugs or who can't hold their drink, I hate their filth and their stench and how, no matter how hard you fight to protect your personal space bubble, some fucker is bound to get up all in your shit, and inevitably that fucker is going to be your foulest worst nightmare.
Like a loud hippie grinning like an idiot with knee-length dreadlocks, for instance.
So I wore my bloody tampon and maxi-pad t-shirt by Gossip.
It's not that I'm a total misanthrope, it's just that I'd prefer masses, if they must teem, to be clean and smell good and be very courteous, and I don't feel like that's such a tall bloody order, or that it makes me an uptight, stuck-up prude. After all, I'm going to the Treasure Island Music Festival later this month. So there.
It's the music I love. It's the music that makes me throw myself to the wolves, the hungry public, the throngs.
I went to see Conor Oberst, and he was beautiful. My boots got filthy and he was worth it.
He finished with Poison Oak. It was perfect. I missed my friend Aaron.
It was worth it.