The Virgin Festival: The Nine-Hour Flesh-Bake

Here’s some boring blog humor to start your morning, y’all. We alighted from the car in Baltimore for the Virgin Festival and Cass hauled her large canvas bag out, intending to carry it in to the festival. I had my own large tote bag with me, so I had no room to talk, so of course I had to ask, “Hey, what the hell you carrying in there? Do you have your computer in there? Are you going to blog at the festival?”

Ha ha. Fucking ha. Well, we did try to blog, a bit half-heartedly, stretched out waiting for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah to start. Maybe it was the fact that we were waiting for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah that we weren’t so much into channeling our writing energy? Well, here it is, our attempt to come up with an entry:

Cass: Could we do a top 10 list about positive things/ Can there even be such a thing? Okay … top 10 things that we like about the Virgin Festival…

Tiresias [always the sour lemon]: … or don’t like.

Cass: Oh my God it’s not even 3:00 and I’m already tired.

Tiresias: I smell.

[We wait for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah to come on stage.]

Cass [in a listless show of indignation before succumbing to a three-minute nap]: No scooters allowed? But rollerskates? What’s with all these goth rollerskating chicks?

Tiresias: Yeah, I want to punch them. The first group was kind of novel and cute, the second group nearly ran over my feet. If I see another group I’m going to kill them.

But even that comment lacked the usual vim. I had nothing to complain about. I wasn’t in New York, my dog was being cared for, I had enough money for pizza and beer. The whole day was devoted to music, and the only bit of work involved walking back and forth between the two stages and furrowing the brows once in a while trying to decide whether it was worth it to cut the Thievery Corporation short to go see the Who, and then to scurry back to the Scissor Sisters (it was).

And there you have it. I’m of the belief (and Cass may be of a different opinion) that if you don’t have something negative and angry to say, you don’t have a blog entry. Half the energy of a blog is the rant aspect, and we, Cass and Tiresias, were too damn happy to blog. We were among friends. We ate pizza. We heard incredible live performances.

It didn't rain y'all. But where in this Washington Post article does it mention the Flaming Lips? Come on, guys. The Flaming Lips. Wayne Coyne coming out on stage in a gigantic white bubble and mashing the crowd with it? Where's the love for the Lips?

Who are, incidentally, playing tonight at the Hammerstein Ballroom. $40. And I'm tempted. But as usual, it's probably sold out.