I Went, And I Stayed

Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve an incredibly unimportant announcement to make: I went to Warped tour for the first time this year, and it very well may be the last time I ever go. Tragic? Perhaps. But moreso than my lack of attendance for all these future golden years is the lack of talent being demonstrated at such a large-scale tour as this, this year. I mean seriously, who the hell deemed this (left, oh the irony) miss-ter as talented enough to play alongside such acts as Alexisonfire, Flogging Molly and Anti Flag? Even the Millionaires are more deserving, despite having botched their lip synching job during soundcheck. And I dare you to ask Frank Carter to disagree with me.

Anyway it wasn’t all bad: I got to catch up with a few pals that I haven’t seen for entirely too long and somehow managed to (fleetingly) weasel the attention of a fresh-faced Toronto boy who – even if only for a moment – put a little slice of a smile on my face. And there ain’t no harm in that. I also had the most pleasurable experience of seeing Bryanne drunk – like, realllly drunk – which included the awe inspiring sight of her having beer dribbled into her mouth via a canoed piece of cardboard off the floor. First time? Who knows.

I’m leaving soon, and the more I say that phrase the more apprehensive I get. I want this, and there’s a direction in my legs that’s coming from the certainty coursing through my veins. And yet it’s there: the promise that things will never be the same for me but exactly as they were when I left.