I met up with the people I camp with at Burning Man. They are some old friends from New York. Vanessa, Harry, and Carlito (who is from California). We hung at Harry's in Huntington Beach, got drunk on the beach, and awoke all ready to go camping. We made the mistake of letting him choose where we were going. After 3 hours of driving, it just didn't work out. Road closed. Even if we had gotten to a destination, they don't allow fires, something that is neccesary for us. So, next time, someone who actually researches things such as fire permittance, water access, etc will be doing the planning. I also realized I still don't like LA. No way jose.
We drove another hour or two to find another place to camp. Did not work out. In the meanwhile, I had started writing the best dubstep song ever, in traffic. My best poems, the published stuff, I write in traffic.
We cooked up this pasta on my camping stove at a park we stopped at, and.... not enough butane. Fucking Friday the 13th.
We went back to Harry's. I could not even drink a drop. A few of the girls passed out, and Harry and Carlito and I watched a few episodes of 90210, 4th season. I like guys who enjoy 90210 on any level. There was lots of laughing involved. I love my friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment