As much as I would love to say that seeing Boston and passing such monumental viewpoints as Fenway Park and Harvard has changed my life, I can’t; I hate baseball and Harvard resembles nothing more than a run-down mess of bricks. However, the townsfolk definitely know how to show a little hospitality. As soon as we arrived to the venue, we were showered with beer and free meals at their newly-opened steakhouse, The Sinclair. I could fuck with that.
After Twin Peax’s set, we stayed for Paws and Fucked Up to play. There’s something oddly entertaining about an enormous shirtless man screaming his lungs out on stage.
Once the show ended, we took a little vacation to their buddy Ben Kramer’s country-side slice of heaven. Being young, dumb, and turnt we decided that this was probably the best place to digest the poisonous mushrooms that we’ve kept hidden away in the van since the beginning of the tour: a great choice on our part. From what I’ve seen up until this point, no place was as relaxing as Sheffield, Massachusetts. I mean, if you don’t believe me, take a look at this dude’s backyard:
Deep in the forest I witnessed the evolution of man, probably the stereotypical mushroom trip, but the deeper I thought I finally realized that this trip that we all worry about, is nothing to fear at all. It’s just life. Seeing as how I’ve never done a hallucinogen, I figured that I’d see all types of crazy shit, but that wasn’t the case. The only thing that I could conjure up in my head was “Oh, this is it?” Maybe a bit existential, but what how else is there to think in a world where all we do is wait around for nothing? We talk to someone, ask what we’re doing later, maybe drink a beer, then repeat the process. I don’t know, maybe this is all just shroomy babble… I guess we’ll just have to see what Brooklyn brings; but until then, fuck with Plastic Beach.
ZULUMINΔTI 