10 years on, enough remains the same.

Put this video on. It means so much to me. Read along with it playing. It might make a little more sense then.

I've struggled all week to come to terms with how I feel about Electric Picnic. I have run the full gauntlet of emotion here. Love, hatred, girls, friends, death, life and that ineffable feeling. I will always be back for the pilgrimage. As usual, I am completely incapable of compiling a sensible description of it. Suffice to say, 10 years attending, the magic has changed, the faces around me have changed, and the state in which I see the weekend have changed. The easiest way to sum it up is that I don't ever want there to be a time where I conciously decide to not attend.

Will it? Won't it? Concern in February. Sure it will. CONFIRMED. Loyalty tickets;cheap as chips. Mounting crews. The last minute panic. WHATCHOO MEAN SOLD OUT? #imminent Running around a park. 2 last gasp successes. Panic over. Packing begins. Co-ordinated via SnapChat, plans come together. 1.30am Haircut decisions. 8.15 pick ups. Realising you hate them just a little bit. Secret route success. Arrivals. Wristbands. Safe through the search. Smiles. Cakes. IMMINENT. Set up complete - ish. We await the scoutmaster generals. Now complete. Now firsts, quickly followed seconds. Suncream, rain spitting. The promise of the weekend. The little bit of session that never dies. Relit, familiar smells, same old spots. New, but just enough is the same.

Familiar friends, new friends. Casual acquaintinces, soulmates for those 90ish hours. Here together, ready.....expecting. Names and introductions. Inductions of the imbibed kind. "Canvas" palaces. Bets over directions. Salads win out. Through the gates again, spilling onto the grass, the beat entrancing. Handstand attempts. Wander to old haunts, new seats, different angles. Safe in the knowledge it is just enough the same.

More arrivals. More introductions. Chemical fuzziness. The wear and tear starts. Final arrivals. Our little family is complete. Bounce alive to Norman, remember none of it. Conversations, ears aflame. Memories spat out and memories created. Life changes when you refuse a 2nd snickers. Pick up and fuel up. Dress up, warm up. Romacing in hats. To the ship, to the beats. Kind souls shake us awake, and send us back to "homes". It is just enough the same. 

Morning dew reminds us of the cold. First one always defines the day. Bright, still full  of promise. New friends, morning rituals. Shocked young ones. So much music. So very much music for those so misdirected. Delight in the loudness. Stupid, brilliant signs. Cross out the options. Its not Zep but is close. Icelandic wonder covers Stradbally and not for the first time. Young Wonder snaps it in half. Mentally screaming out for more. New friends, same old stories. One last happy man. Stars stars stars. No, not drugs - they're stars! Two Doors, Disclosure. Stupid but fun. Speak to everybody. Be the dance you want to dance. Mischief in the forests. Fake security of the most unlikely kind. Mentoring a friend through their first. Success. Some ironic GAA sports coverage keeps family awake. Things are still enough the same.

One last squeeze. Sleeping bags ignored. Sleep where we fall. Sedate starts. Comfortable beginings. Prosecco calculations, hummus and cheese came soon. Buffoon-like siblings. Laughter. Ha-stocking. 5 years later, and in 5 years time. Darkness falls too soon. One last purchase. One last push. David Byrne & St Vincent make things freeze, and go and stop and play. THIS MUST BE THE ACTUAL PLACE. Group texts of joy. Successfully managing to avoid twitter and what I would only say. What a great idea, what a place. Snatched sleeps on the cool cool grass. Guarded sleeps at the Monkeys. Taking far too long to understand the lights. Le Galaxie snatch the last of the energy. Elephant mask aplenty. Neon everywhere. Everything must be glow. John Williams blasts through the night. Onto Mother, friends of old, dancing. LCD close out my world as the souls slip away to sleep. Thinsgs stay the same.

Where are my friends tonight? A lot of them were standing there with me. Wipe away the tear, accept my part and lose to the closing sleep.

Real life claims us back. Battery, coverage, debit cards, work. 

Every year it feels like my chest is on fire. Every year I try and keep a tiny spark of that fire lit. 

Knowing glances in the real world with people you know you knew in the forest. Smile at those people. The picnic lasts longer than the wristband.

10 Years on, enough remains the same.

Music that kept me going. We are you friends, in a world of compilations

Music is an integral part of pretty much everything I do. This is no "2012 highlights" you can get that elsewhere.

These are the little bits and pieces that kept me going.

Judge me as you will, I will stand over each and every one of these.

2 old friends in times gone a long time. One who raves on through the songs and stories, and one who remains singing.



Surely, from a soundtrack, but surely a little tune.

I saw them play. Then, 36 hours after coming home from an Dopamine soaked Electric Picnic I saw Shut Up and Play the Hits and cried like a girl. Forever hearing this song at times.

11 minutes of awesome.

I WILL SEE HER PLAY IN 2013.

Chhhhoooon!

Blew my cobwebs away on many a morning after.

 Do you festival? I festival!

A small speck of a village. A Festival beyond. Other Voices. Cold Specks. Listen

That voice, those harmonies. Still with me.

I liked you then, I love you now.
A friend's father passed away, the original (Van Morrison) was played at his funeral. For many a person of my generation has watched their friends emigrate and leave us behind. I have so much hope that ALL will come back.

To be continued!

Nearly a decade later.

What does one say about a place where so much is just indescribable? Where reality is temporarily suspended, where day becomes night, fiends become friends and the *whumph* of bass is never too far to walk to.

 What does one feel for a place that is temporary, yet 9 years on some parts are identical? A place with the strictest of rules is only that of access to the unruled mischief.

What does one remember of a weekend that passes far too quickly? Where it feels like just last week when one steps through the arch to the same familiar smells, the same sights, the same faces even.

What does one say about the regular pilgrimage to a forest full of lunatics, nine years on. I choose to remember the stand out moments



The survey questions at the station, smelly hands, the accountants who "do not" come here, Solomon CheapTaxi and his bills to pay.where are you? Which gate, that gate, airport style pat downs, convenient timing,same old spot, space saving, neighbour friending, more space defending from cheeky little monkeys, Geoffrey the best frog ever, whiteboard nonsense, backwards g, a fork? no a frog YES!, chairs but no tent, the world's biggest fecking gazebo, he doesn't speak irish and yes that is ok, shit tents, deadly tents, not one sign of alan, bane words - Dr Evil sounds, finally releasing geoffrey, no seriously where are you?legal advice, Stupid signs, tent reallocation, grass,cans, settle, bounce alive to the realisation that it is here, it is real; in the least real of senses, same familiar faces, lacking certain ones. Bags with certain wristbands,filled full of fun, sourcing, finding,onwards to the centre,tank up, Mo-fucking-jitos (always pronounce the J), Shaking Alabama,Roots, mindfield arguments, old enemies, old faces, same old loss of a thought generation, tank up, take off, the XX sprints, push to the front, same old faces, clasping arms, goosebumps, more flights, up Up UP,clasped hands, texting the world, communicating, time irrelevant, catching eyes, one last salute, the end of the world, the end of the music, 3 years on in the exact same place, 3 years on in a totally different space. A circle hug, a speech (why the speech) time spent pondering, an ill advised conversation, a conversation anyway. Said struggling through buzzing ears and burnt old words. Cold, struggle to sleep earlier than ever, day one dies, and slips into day two. Faces change. Morning time is a struggle, brightness and sunshine pushes through. Roundabout walkies, figure at the fence. "Oh wait, I'll find it inside, it must be in there somewhere", quick check, WIN!, its a huge gazebo!, wait where is the gazebo, air conditioning system, introductions, glitter moustache, a corkonian young wonder, "she'd get it",spirals explained, masks on us all, a sweat sodden dance to a subtracting drumbeat, the new generation of Radio, famous photography, unbidden faces,Wild Beasts,and overhead wordless explosions, blank stares, the Cure, a fall, a snap, a stretching Ted, a long wait in pain, the Friday in Love vibe dissipates, the cure ironic when they took so long to arrive, back home, oh jesus, more spiral metaphors, this time unfinished as it hits and takes me the fuck away. No Grimes, no Galaxies above, some Orbiting guys in funny glasses but those dark dudes in Paris represent the memories, sessioning fiends, struggle through the haze, ARE YOU OK?, into the forest, bounce alive to the now shuttered beats across the river. 5am shut downs seem so quiet to the old fiends.Painful awakenings, smoothies are the only way out, one soul lost to the cells, proud as punch at his escape, bounce awake to the sounds, lunatics have taken over the asylum, loadsa rolls, relive the nonsense, get up, stand up, tank up, dance. the heart of the grotto provides the shelter,Chips, early john, an indian society of cyclists, home to a quiz, a gallon tank, a transformer, a climbing lightbulb thief who was not Gaddaffi, hiding and joining, then inwards to the last spirals, only whisps of killers, a missed Elbow and the end of the end. Through the deepening cold, to Mmoths, to the heart of the session. Too much. Too late. Too early. Too cold. To sleep. Dawn comes early and the community is already escaping. Threadbare tents, spaces forming in the melting sites. Goodbyes, clasped hands. Onwards to a world less mythical.

Good session friends, good friends session.

361 more sleeps. It looks a little different, it sounds a little different, it feels a little different. An entire decade on. An entire decade gone. Like they said the second time, we'll always be together, together in Electric Dreams.

Life has been pretty shit for a while. But its getting better.

As per the title, that aside I was discharged two weeks ago. In the interim I've had job interviews, meetings with clients, a music festival, a sessioner's weekend and now I'm fully reset.

Im currently planning my "post-legal-dispute" trip. Even mundane things like looking up Visa information or even having to think about a packing list (seriously, this is important when your shoes are over a foot long each) and what life traveling will be like is relaxing me. All good news really.

Using Everlater I've pulled together a version of an itinerary.



Nothing concrete just yet, but planning makes me happy.

Relearning to Walk

This is week 7.

Surgery is done & my kneecap is essentially in one piece again. Surgeon & physio tell me 12-16 weeks recovery. I, being me, am aiming at 8 weeks back walking & running & occasionally dancing like a lunatic.

There is a sense of understanding that comes from measurement and it's interpretation, so I am going to measure everything. Currently I can walk zero steps without pain and support. The 600m walk to my local shop is doable in 10 minutes, but fatigue and pain slows the return leg to 20-25 minutes. That is about the total of my manouvereablitly at this point. 

Stairs are an absolute chore, whereas I usually take stairs two at a time, I am limited to stepping up with my right leg, swinging my left leg up and then supporting my weight to lift the right leg again. 14 steps in my house means it takes concerted effort to get up the stairs. Coming downstairs is slightly easier, but again left leg is fairly useless and I have to alternate between my good leg and supporting my weight on th bannister. This all leads to a serious effort not to leave things I need upstairs (or downstairs). 

Getting up from bed/cars/couches takes thought as well, I don't have the power in my left leg to get to a stand, so my right leg has to do all the work. It sounds silly, but because my right leg is doing so much more work while walking & pretty much anything I am exhausted pretty quickly. A walk to the shop takes it out of me & requires me to rest the leg before attempting to climb the stairs.

That is the moaning done. At least I can type again, and physio for my hand is starting to have an effect slowly but surely. 

For the video, replace money with walking, make success normality & "Explosions in the Sky" are yet again the soundtrack.

So here is a link to the google doc I am using to measure what I can do & help plot out recovery and then some.

On January 30th I ran/walked 4k in 29minutes (using this great little app here) and I intend to be besting that in 10 weeks in at the start of June.

Determination is one thing I do have in spades, so it starts here.

Fuck You Facebook Fakery.

This Video makes me really want to go to Coachella. It looks like all of the Joy, and less of the rain/mud/skuzz of an Irish fesitval.

I'm currently balancing my skepticism as to the validity of "Win a trip for 3 to Coachella 2012" on Facebook and my desire to go.

If I don't "like" it and it is fake I get to feel like I didn't get conned. If I don't "like" it and one of my friends wins it I will feel very very silly. The line up is great. The mock line up is also great.

Real Line Up

"Real-er" Line Up 

Dilemna. Opportunity Vs Smugness.

Bring it

I spent this morning with a friend that is understanding beyond expectations. It was a thoroughly pleasant time. Someone with that kind of patience and capacity to look past some of the nonsense I bring upon myself deserves all sorts of medals.

I spent the rest of the day with my family in one last gathering before work/school/college commitments separates us for a while. A sister whose acumen for pretty much anything puts my intelligence to shame, a brother whose attitude and outlook is incredibly healthy for someone so successful and a little sister who hasn't even begun to understand her potential. My parents will never understand how much they have given me in creating a life for all of us that fostered a co-operatively competitive atmosphere that allows us to keep achieving.

I am thankful to be surrounded by incredible people. Their kindness and support has driven me to keep plugging away. I have inherited a work ethic that I only come to appreciate the older I get. 

I took quite a personal whack in the weeks coming up to Christmas due to some career set backs and an eye watering tax bill that wiped out my savings (apparently I am due a rebate on a portion of it but right now life is less comfortable financially than it has been) has mercilessly impacted 

Through this period support & advice have been available and offered freely. This extends to close friends as well without who I would be in a different place. I am thankful beyond measure to a close few who have bet on my future, who have believed in me and have accepted the decisions that led me here. Be it a simple word,a conversation and even financial support there is a reason I am still plugging away. 

I've had this saved on my favourites for a while. 

Hard Work from Naeem Callaway on Vimeo.

Yes, the treadmill is a metaphor (those who know me know that I'm not an athlete) but the truth stands. I will not be outworked. I will not be out-thought. I will outlast this. I will not give up. I will still be here, screaming into the winds of the world.  Dear world, bring it!