Chapter Eleven: H1Z1

1:58 PM CST June 26, 2019

Just rolled up to the “hard rock” stage. At least it used to be the hard rock stage.

Current band performing is soft as hell.

Some white dude singing about meeting him under the moon.

(there’s no place where he’d rather be….)

He made some big speech about how this song was their “hit” and we should go find it on YouTube.

“We have one more song!”

(Promise?)

Summerfest 2019

I took the city bus to get here.

Hayley and I purchased a house near Miller Park last September.

Can’t walk to Summerfest this year…

(Well, I could walk here but I’d still be walking.)

We love our new home.

And the bus ride down here was AWESOME.

1. Upon arrival at the bus stop, some young stoner looking dude was lying on the grass, dicking around on his phone.

He then asked me if I liked music.

I said I did like music, especially rock n’ roll.

“I got you, brah.”

He fired up some rock song I never heard before….I noticed it had guitars, and then bus came.

Stoner dude told me he’d have to turn off the music because the bus driver would regulate.

I was surprised.

Stoner dude wasn’t surprised.

“Yeah, it’s the Midwest. They don’t give a shit in LA.”

I struggled with the price of admission. I was prepared for a $2.00 charge, but the driver needed $2.25.

I let the stoner dude skip me; he was also paying in cash but at least he had exact change.

I was holding on for dear life while I tried paying with a crumpled to shit dollar bill.

The seasoned driver wasn’t amused.

“Just straighten it out.”

Yeah yeah yeah….easier said than done.

The rest of the ride was uneventful but beautiful.

A lady (suffering from mental illness?) kept begging the bus driver to “get going” during every unnecessary stop.

I couldn’t tell if another lady was talking on her phone or talking to the mentally ill lady.

The stoner dude exited before me and had to ask the driver to open the back door.

Two well-dressed business professionals entered in the heart of downtown. The lady was in heels, and the dude in the monkey suit was carrying a cardboard box of some sort….

Maybe they were heading for a food truck.

We’ll never know because I exited the bus before they did.

So yeah, we bought a house. It’s great. We both love it.

Also….we bought a trail cam.

Our backyard was visited by a wild turkey, raccoons, possiums, ground hogs, mice, birds, and at least one cat.

We look forward to capturing a picture of the infamous Milwaukee Cougar one day soon.

(I digress.)

Just caught a song by THE PSEUDO FEDS @ the only stage that really matters at Summerfest:

The Rebel Stage

The Pseudo Feds are a 4-man punk group. Average age: 33 years-old.

(Maybe they’re older…)

These dudes could easily be in their 40’s….

They know what they’re doing.

The drummer is basic but hits everything with great intention. Bass is one of the leaders. He sings. Lead guitar doesn’t really play lead much. Complex song crafting for a punk band. Songs have some actual surprises, there’s some melody,

and they’ll even shift time signatures when the plan calls for it.

They’re not bad.

Two singers. Harmonies.

Lyrics aren’t too angry.

Trying to get a sing along here at the end.

(Clearly showing their advanced age.)

Hung out with Zach from Where the i Divides a few days ago. He brought up a few memories. We had such a great time.

These bands here at The Rebel Stage always look like they’re having a GREAT TIME.

Rhetoric Vendetta.

Rebel Stage.

3-person punk band.

Younger and less serious than The Pseudo Feds. These songs are coming in around 1:23 and shit.

Drummer is female and much, much better than our last drummer.

She’s loud, interesting, and the most complex musician on stage.

Most songs only have a few parts, but she has dozens of different variations.

She keeps staring at the lead singer.

Singing along some…

Maybe she’s running the show?

Lead singer isn’t very interesting. Kind of a GREEN DAY rip off.

Bass player is singing now. Can’t understand a word he’s saying.

His song was longer….

(About 1:45 on that one.)

Wait….these guys just announced themselves as The Pseudo Feds.

Maybe that last band was Rhetoric Vendetta…

FOR FUCK’S SAKE!

I’m 43 years old.

It’s easy to tell:

Who’s with their work friends in the middle of their annual trip to the first day of Summerfest.

It’s easy to tell who is trying to look exactly like their friends.

It’s easy to tell who hangs out at The Rebel Stage.

(Anyone wearing a Bad Religion cut off is going to The Rebel Stage.)

It’s easy to tell who’s been here since the very beginning, 50+ years ago.

It’s easy to tell that more men than women wear product in their hair these days?

It’s easy to tell who is walking around with their parents.

It’s easy to identify the old head in the 6-10 person office groups.

(I have enjoyed every second of this cigar.)

My Miller Lits have tasted much better than the one East Side Dark Lager I purchased.

I don’t miss the East Side at all.

I’ve been writing down here at Summerfest for many, many years now.

Not sure if I commented on the smells.

Nothing like the smell of corn on the cob, wood fired grills with fresh meats cooking, fresh roasted nuts, fresh mulch, popcorn, cigar smoke, fried food and….

the beautiful smell of Lake Michigan in late June….

Nothing like it…

Words do me no justice here.

2019!!!

Summerfest 2019

(Day 2 for me, Friday, June 28)

Took the bus again….And this time I was much more efficient.

With Hayley’s help, I used her bus card and used the Milwaukee County Transit System app to help me arrive on time at my stop.

(Nothing worse than walking to your stop and seeing the bus fly by.)

Actually, there is something worse…

Walking to your stop and watching the bus fly by in the dead of winter as you’re running late for work….

I’m sitting pretty here…..

I have the next 8 weeks off….

It’s late June.

The weather is warm enough for me to not even contemplate bringing a sweatshirt…

I’m on a mission to get down to Summerfest to drink, observe, and WRITE.

If I’m late for the bus I wait an extra 15 minutes without much consequence.

I saw an elderly man pull for a stop around 35th Street.

Old people who ride the city bus are my heros.

It was easy to tell who was heading to Summerfest, who just got off from a long day at work, (the casino chef) and who was clearly lost.

(The young lady on drugs.)

It’s metal day at the only stage that really matters anymore. The Rebel Stage.

(Here since 2008.)

The band on stage is Milwaukee’s very own H1Z1.

They are clearly head and shoulders above the 2:00 band.

H1Z1 is a four piece with an amazing front man. I don’t like metal, but I like this band, especially the front man, the blast beats, and their name….

H1Z1

Favorite shirts so far:

1. Keep Your Day Job

2. Keep Calm and Eat Bacon

3. Lurking Class

2019 fashion trends that I just don’t understand because I’m too old:

Glitter glued to young girls’ chests…Above the boobs…..

(I’ve only seen white girls do this.)

I’m too old to understand.

They’re too young to give a flying fuck.

Chapter Ten: Light Years

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Summerfest 2018

I’m at some stage with some corporate sponsor with some classic rock cover band covering CCR at 3:20 in the afternoon.

(ON A WEDNESDAY)

I already downed a Guinness on the way down here, and now I’m working on a frothy Double IPA with a 9.8% alcohol content….they claim to have the aftertaste of pine needles in this thing.

(Whatever.)

I’m thankful for my current position in the universe.

(Very thankful.)

The lead singer here is pretty old, but he’s pretty gifted.

They’re ending with a Led Zeppelin song….

“Whole Lotta Love”

Dude’s range is impressive…..not stretching to hit those notes…

(Effortless.)

I’m happy to be here drinking a beer on a Wednesday afternoon….

Many of my 42 year-old-friends have had to stop drinking or have decided to stop drinking for one reason or another.

Some due to excess and loss of control, others due to health issues.

I drink more than my usual school-year-weekends here during summer, and I’m grateful to still be alive,

enjoying a potent beer and a potent lead singer for an otherwise average cover band.

There are two older ladies sitting to my right. They must be in their mid-60’s.

They don’t look cool at all, but I think they’re cool because they’re still alive and they decided to walk into Summerfest today.

(Good for them.)

I saw a funny shirt on the way in here: Some mid-50’s guy with a neon yellow shirt that read:

“My T-Shirt is brighter than your future.”

– Touché

Just heard the words “social media” in some horrible song while the cover band strikes the stage.

Horrible.

The song is horrible.

And I hate the words “social media”.

It’s like hearing the words “Stormy Daniels” out loud.

I have nothing against “Stormy Daniels” or “social media” per se, but I just hate hearing those words out loud.

Veteran cover bands are really good at striking the stage. Like clockwork, they were off in less than 10 minutes….and no one was bitching at one another…..IMPRESSIVE!

Two older gents are standing 3 rows in front of the uncool/cool ladies.

Now these guys are cool. Both in their 50’s. One is wearing a blood red button down shirt, sort of Hawaiian, but not really Hawaiian.

His buddy is wearing softer colors, but he looks just as cool. Both have beer bellies, beards, and Miller Lites.

The guy with the red shirt has longer hair but he’s clearly balding.

If I ever go bald, I’m shaving my head. No question about it.

I’m 42 this year. Grey hairs are starting to kick in.

But I’m certainly not complaining.

My debt is down to zero.

I owe about $70 a month to an athletic club, about $70 a month for my cellular device, about $200 a month for cable/internet/Netflix/Amazon Prime/HBO GO, and after that, I buy food, booze for the weekends and summer, and I’ll pay for lunch or dinner most of the time when I’m with Hayley. She pays the rent and I’ve paid off my once ridiculous credit card debt which was $25,000 at one point in the not-too-distant past.

I’m grateful for Hayley. She’s the most amazing human I’ve ever met. She’s my favorite human of all time. No question about it….

(and she hates Summerfest)

And the fact that she hates Summerfest is fine by me because I can come here by myself and drink and write and make fun of not-so-shitty but still-shitty cover bands and not have to worry about anything important.

Time slows down….For sure.

I’m light years away from a Wednesday in the middle of January, that’s for damn sure.

(Light years.)

A typical Wednesday in the middle of January is much, much, much more stressful than this.

I’m usually surrounded by dozens of kids in the same room, and it’s my responsibility to educate their brains….(in the middle of January.)

Teaching is no joke, no matter the month, but…

It’s about as stressful as it gets in the middle of fucking January.

This here is my reward.

This joy is what I deserve.

(Unapologetically.)

(I work my ass off for this. No doubt about it.)

It’s now 5:00 PM CST.

I’m at the Uline Warehouse.

I just ordered a BOLLICINI SPARKLING CUVÉE and I’m regretting it because they gave it to me in a petite light blue can with a straw.

HOW EMBARRASSING!

I’ve let my beard and my hair grow out since the last of school 2.5 weeks ago. This isn’t the look of a modern man, that’s for sure. Anyways….

REVEL IN ROMANCE finally hit the stage. 4 young gents in pristine white suits and the lead singer is a young female who doesn’t sing very well. Standard 2 guitars, bass and drums.

They’re from Atlanta, GA.

The lead singer lady is imploring Summerfest to jump up and down with them.

(Yawn.)

They’re polished but boring.

(Very boring.)

So I threw out my back two days ago lifting weights. Now I’m vaping CBD oil in a desperate attempt for a cure. I ran 4 miles this morning, overcoming the back soreness.

This REVELS IN ROMANCE band reminds me of the Chuck E. Cheese band for some reason.

Why?

Because they suck!

What’s more beautiful? Old people acting like they’re young or young people acting like they’re old?

I was thinking of using the word pretending, but both parties aren’t pretending.

(Clearly)

It’s so beautiful.

Both parties.

(Beautiful.)

I’m starting to think IMAGINE DRAGONS are the headliner tonight.

Never liked IMAGINE DRAGONS.

Always thought they were stock.

Nothing to see here….

(Keep moving.)

Chapter Eight: BBRROONNZZEE (2016)

Summerfest 2016 5:55 PM CST

Day #2

This is the first year in as long as I can remember that I DID NOT GO TO OPENING DAY!

There is a real possibility that I’ve attended the Opening Day of Summerfest for the last 20 years straight. (Probably more.)

I didn’t go to Opening Day yesterday because I went to Six Flags Great America for some high thrills with my good friend Zach. It was awesome!

So I turned 40 this year….(SO WHAT!)

So, I’m here at a Summerfest beta stage: It’s the blah blah blah bank pavilion or something.

The Marcus Amplitheater is the alpha.

Here at the beta stage, some shit band just took the stage. Four in-shape men (clearly in their early 50’s) playing some long winded rock n’ roll instrumental with cheesy 1970’s guitar solos. All four were wearing sunglasses.

The pavilion is about one-third full.

Styx plays in about 3.5 hours.

I’m sipping on a Redd’s Green Apple Ale with my sunglasses on. On my half-hour walk here, I thought about how badly the chaffed skin on my inner thighs felt. I suffered in this pain for exactly half of my walk down here.

Before the journey, I hobbled 3 blocks to Walgreens for some petroleum jelly; while there I picked up my prescription for Warfarin, and dropped off a script for my upcoming colonoscopy.

Have I mentioned that I turned 40?

So they’re singing now….and here’s another cheesy 70’s guitar solo.

Now the lead singer is singing/pointing at the sparse crowd.

The extended outro is a classic one. Designed to make the crowd clap hard when it’s done.

(Thank god it’s over.)

Of course, the lead singer yells something into the mic immediately after the song ends.

“Blah Blah Blah, Milwaukee!”

(Of course)

The band’s name is Bad Boy. I’m not joking.

“Everybody alright?” – the first words I clearly understood from the lead singer.

No. I’m not alright.

My inner thighs are severely chaffed, and I’m sitting here listening to the lead singer of Bad Boy scream into the microphone.

“I’ve got people from Australia here. I’ve got people from California here.”

Great. Good for you….

These guys aren’t horrible.

Better musicians than I am, that’s for damn sure.

They’ve performed at Summerfest for 5 straight years.

I haven’t.

I’m not jealous.

I’m not in awe.

I’m just observing and analyzing based on my prior experiences.

He’s now singing, “Do you feel alright?”

I will in a second…

Now at the Briggs stage.

Some band named Juice won the big Battle of the Bands competition. They won $20,000 or something.

My band, Where the i Divides, entered a Battle of the Bands once.

We lost….

The guitar player (the same friend I went to Great America with) showed up late and drunk and threw his large tube amp off its stand after a horrible show.

BEST SHOW EVER!!!!

When I was younger, I wrote all the time…

I used to hang on so tightly to all the joy and ecstasy of my 20’s….

I knew it was fleeting, and I didn’t want to let that fire burn out without documenting it.

Some millennial just showed up with her Bob Marley back-pack. Katy Perry is playing on the loudspeaker.

(I’m out of here…)

Now at the hard rock stage: three-fourths of the band are in their mid-50’s and wearing sunglasses. Two of them are wearing hats to hide their receding hairlines, and the lead singer is unashamed of his receding hairline/balding head.

I’m lucky. My dad still has plenty of hair in his mid-60’s, and I still a full head of hair here at 40.

Whatever. Their drummer is in his 20’s.

Looks like his hair is receding too, even at this early age. (Like father, like son….I’m sure.)

The lead singer is droning on about Les Paul.

Boring.

So he’s from Waukesha….(big fucking deal.)

They’re now singing about letting the good times roll.

(Organ solo.)

75% of the crowd is paying attention.

Precisely 25% of them are on their phones.

“Let the good times roll.”

Joe Jackson is the headliner tonight at this stage.

(Joe Jackson.)

Some old guy is wearing a Phish shirt.

He probably got into Phish when he was my age.

(Holy shit.)

I forgot my headphones this year.

My band hasn’t practiced in well over 3 years.

There’s a real possibility that we may never perform again.

There’s a real possibility that you could care less.

(And that’s alright by me.)

GGOOLLDD here at the Oasis.

Heard a lot about this local band.

So far, I’m unimpressed.

Flashy costumes.

Synths.

So what?

Little depth to their songwriting.

Their attempts at hooks don’t blow me away.

SSIILLVVEERR.

Listen to Canada’s METRIC instead….

(Trust me.)

After sitting through their last 3 songs, maybe they should be named, BBRROONNZZEE.

(Trust me.)

Try Chvrches instead.

Chapter Seven: Summerfest. The Place Where Dreams Where Dreams Come to Die (2015)

06/24/15

Summerfest, WI

3:02 PM CST

Got in on time this year.

Went over BJ’s house to pick up my blue water bottle. I asked if the water was fresh.

I picked up my pace significantly near the end of my walk; didn’t want to miss my 3:00 PM deadline.

(3 non perishable food items = 1 free ticket)

This year, I brought along my extra ticket just in case.

On my way in, I thought: I’m certainly more inclined to pour a fresh Guinness into a disposable reused coffee cup (a beer for the walk) than train for a marathon.

Anyways, BJ donated the 5 canned food items, a quid pro quo for the water bottle.

I made it in time to catch HOUR 24, my first band of the day. Some 24 year old blonde California hack, with tight pants and plenty of tanned cleavage.

WAILING AWAY (way, way above the mix)

NOT SINGING, mind you. Wailing as the rest of her shit band:

1. Poses inbetween each mistake

2. Poses some more

3. Ignores the wailing while posing.

Wait. They’re not from California?

Sorry. Temperance, Michigan.

The guitar player just thanked Summerfest because the young blonde couldn’t stop blabbering.

“This would be a good chance for everyone to come up to the front and dance.”

This would be a good chance for you to get off the stage.

The drummer is now standing on his stool near the end of their epic last song. (Nice touch.)

Leaving the stage, the guitar player just spat out some doom metal like scream.

They just ran off the stage; nobody came up to the front to dance.

The roadies hit the stage to some stock Shins song. (Aren’t all Shins songs stock?)

Some sort of rolling band/parade just passed to my left. There’s a Ferris wheel this year.

Welcome to Summerfest 2015.

Summerfest. The place where dreams come to die.

(I give the band 24 HOUR another album before they break-up; no way they’re together 10 years from now.)

Just walked past Milwaukee’s very own Depeche Mode tribute act, entitled, Milwaukee Mode! (Of course.)

They.

Were.

Horrible.

2 piece. The synth/keyboard player was hanging on for dear life, and the beer belly lead singer was drown in layers of static and the sheen of: “I’m the middke aged lead singer of an undeniably horrible Depeche Mode tribute act.”

Some drunk white lady is the only one dancing (of course) as her boring husband stands to the side and pretends to enjoy himself.

Went back for another Depeche Mode song. They’re too juicy to resist. The keyboard player looked a little more confident for this number. The lead singer did, too. He started shaking his ass a little more, and a small crowd developed around them. Here at one of the many side stages, you take any fan you can get. I made eye contact (supposedly) with a girl directly across from me.

We both had dark sunglasses on, so it’s hard to know if we really made eye contact. Either way, she smiled at the same things I was smiling about.

There was an understanding, that this Depeche Mode tribute act was so incredibly bad, that they were great!

(Can’t imagine another band that will make me smile more this year.)

I’m at a picnic table down by the rocks. Some idiot Milwaukeean back in the 80’s thought it would be a great idea to create a giant landfill on Lake Michigan next to our Summerfest. You used to be able to gaze upon the endless expanses of Lake Michigan from your spot on the rocks.

Now, you gaze at paddle boaters going in circles on a glorified pond, with a treeless running trail as a backdrop. There’s some guy with a yellow shirt and red hat running on it right now. How boring. (Have I mentioned this before?)

Some country band is singing…”times are tough.”

(Times are always tough when you listen to country music.)

Ladies and Gentlemen: The Whiskey Belles

“I’ve never been one to borrow a truck.”

What? (I don’t get it.)

They just reminded the audience that they weren’t The Dixie Chicks.

A violin starts Song #2, and the other two girls start clapping, trying to get the audience involved.

Sweet Lada. Circa 7:15 PM CST 06/24/15

This blonde has some pipes. She’s older. More soulful. (And in a lower register which fits their bluesy style.)

Maybe she’s not blonde. Brunette? Factory chemicals? Closer to that than blonde.

(I beg your pardon.)

These people are clearly in their 40’s. Good for them; much more agreeable than those boring as hell 20 year olds.

Keep Calm and Chive On – twice (same guy)

-three times (some other geek)

Keep Calm and Smile On (once)

Everyone else is over it.

Why do these young girls always have to hug each other and make a big deal about running into each other?

Sitting next to 620 TMJ with the Brewer game on. Bob Uecker calmed Bartolo Colon “beefy.”

Beefy is a great word.

(I should start counting bellybuttons.)

Earlier today, I was trying to recall my young/drunk days @ Summerfest. I’m almost 40. Everything’s getting fuzzy.

At this point in my life, I’ve forgotten more than I remember. (Statistical fact.)

So many beautiful people.

So many sad people.

Regarding the sad ones, though.

AT LEAST THEY’RE HERE.

AT LEAST THEY’RE WALKING AROUND AT THE FESTIVAL.

AT LEAST THEY’RE TRYING!

They’re here, out and about on a chilly summer evening by the lake, surrounded by people and music.

I’m sitting…(on a planter)….puffing on a cigar.

Drinking a $7.50 glass of Shiraz.

Watching all these beautiful people pass me by.

ALL THESE PEOPLE…..

(Despite their beliefs and personal differences.)

ALL OF THESE PEOPLE ARE BEAUTIFUL.

(Oh my fucking god.)

Chapter Six: 3% Don’t Know Where They Are (2014 cont.)

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Sitting on a picnic bench that could be overlooking beautiful Lake Michigan but can’t because some asshole decided to be greedy (like everyone else in the 80’s) and create more land by inventing Summerfest Island, a giant landfill turned park that obstructs lake views for 95% of the property.

(Thank a lot, assholes.)

I’m sitting right by “the rocks” which used to be an awesome place to make out because it’s off the beaten path of the main fesitival, and it used to have an awesome view of Lake Michigan until some greedy asshole with way too much power decided to dump Milwaukee’s garbage into the lake in one of the worst, most disappointing land grabs of all time.

(I digress.)

Currently 10:10 PM on a Wednesday night.

I’m hanging out outside a stage where L.A. group Airborne Toxic Event are performing.

They just mentioned that they’re from L.A. and everyone they ran into today claims that our shitty, cloudy 58 degree Fahrenheit with a light mist is in fact not cold.

(Welcome to Milwaukee, softies.)

The youth of America are floating past me. Fucked up. Checking their phones. Hugging with force. Blabbering in about whatever young people blabber on about.

Laughing.

Smoking.

Drinking.

Puking.

Trying to get, hold, and keep (blank)’s attention.

Now that sun has set, I’ve seen at least 3 couples kissing, and 1 couple seriously making out on the rocks (despite the fact they can’t see the fucking lake.)

They’re walking in pairs, sharing cigarettes, going to check out (blank).

7% are there for the music.

90% are there to be seen.

3% don’t know where they are.

Older folks are dressed with jackets for the cool lake breeze.

Young folks are rocking the mid-riff exposed, tanned, and ripped.

Rick that belly, girl. For as long as you can.

Show off those biceps, dude.

You’re only young while you’re young.

Some are walking in threes, arm and arm dancing while walking.

Laughing.

Drinking.

Soaking it in, despite the crumby weather.

Some are holding hands.

Some are holding a beer.

Some are checking their phone, and some are walking alone.

Some have hoods up.

Some are eating popcorn with hoods up.

Some are looking to charge their cellular device.

Some are wearing ponchos.

Some are bearing child.

Some are recycling.

Some are blowing out smoke known to cause cancer.

All while Airborne Toxic Event revert to a mini-drum-solo.

Some are playing air guitar.

Some are running because they’re late for Ludacris.

Some are limping because they’re old and injured.

One dude was wearing a GWAR shirt.

One lady was walking at a pretty steady clip with her walker.

One guy was still wearing his sunglasses.

One guy’s wearing a Bo Jackson Raider jersey.

Winner: Keep Calm and Get Stan on it

Some people are fat and beautiful.

Some people are fat and ugly.

Some people are skinny and beautiful.

Some people are skinny and ugly.

There is something eternally beautiful about all of this.

(Sternum thumping bass and the smell of fried food.)

Sternum thumping bass in the distance and the taste of fried food.

Fish net stockings.

And some lady folding a blanket.

It’s 11:19 PM CST and The Airborne Toxic Event are playing their last song of the evening.

“This is a folk song about being a fuck-up.”

Some young lady to my left confidently set her beverage on the fence, and plugged in her cellular device to charge it.

(Sipping on ice.)

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Beautiful.

Beautiful.

Beautiful.

It’s 11:26 PM. Just saw 3 different people running.

Why?

Why are you running at this ungodly hour?

Chapter Five: A Slow, Steady March to Death (2014)

Here we go: Summerfest 2014

To begin, I fucking ran down here. I’ve never run to Summerfest before, and I don’t plan on doing it again.

I checked my cellphone at 2:40 PM. I was at least 2 miles away. I had to get to the main gate by 3:00 PM.

Anyone wearing a red shirt got in free before 3:00.

(I hate wearing red.)

If someone gave you $11.00 to walk around wearing a red shirt all day, would you do it?

I had a new red shirt that I was ready and willing to wear, and now it was getting drenched in sweat because even though Lake Michigan’s water temperature was 49 degrees Fahrenheit, the air hovering next to it was at least 70 degrees Fahrenheit, and, because I didn’t want to pay $11.00 to get in…

I ran at a pretty good clip for a few blocks, but then I stopped because my pockets were loaded with cash, credit cards, my cellphone, my digital camera, a condom, and four pieces of bubble gum.

Cincinnati’s Seabird just took the stage.

Ho hum first song.

They just clarified. They’re actually from Northern Kentucky, not Cincinnati.

Well, in that case…

Double ho hum.

I’ve seen two of them now.

Keep Calm and Chive On and the Summerfest one: Keep Calm and Smile On

(Let’s see who wins.)

3rd song now from Northern Kentucky’s Seabird. I don’t know how much longer I can take this. I keep thinking about all the blood, sweat, and tears these guys pour into their music careers, and how they’ll peak with a song that makes it on some sappy television drama. They’ll play it for 30 seconds at the end of the show….Roll credits.

How beautiful. How sad.

Welcome to Milwaukee’s very own 11 day music festival. Some of the most beautiful people on the planet, stuffing their faces with whatever they god damn please, because we get about 3 months of reasonable weather in this northernly outpost, and we need to soak up as much of it as we can when it’s here (god damn it.)

Song #5 from Seabird.

(This has gone on long enough.)

Now with an IPA at PROF. The DJ before PROF was fucking fantastic. Great beats. Never annoying or boring. Couldn’t help but move my body, chair dancing on the bleachers as I checked my cell phone.

PROF: Atmosphere’s headlining in about 4 hours.

I wish the DJ’s were back on stage.

PROF = too many white dudes yelling and screaming on stage.

(Yawn.)

The beats behind the white dudes yelling and screaming better be fucking awesome to keep my interest.

(They’re not.)

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

It’s 3:30 PM and Ed Kowalczyk, the former lead singer from Live, is way too loud when he screams into the microphone. It might be the sound guy’s fault.

(It might not be.)

Now the entire band is too loud.

It almost feels unsafe for my eardrums.

Or, I might just be getting old.

I had to leave. Not only was Ed Kowalczyk too loud, but he sucked. No wonder Live ditched him.

Or did he ditch them?

Or WHO CARES?

Live sold out the Main Stage back in the 90’s.

(Now this.)

A slow, steady march to death….

For all of us, time keeps ticking, closer and closer to an outcome more certain than anything else we will ever know.

It’s so beautiful…

The will to keep living.

Gentleman….Mid 60’s….with his wife. Still limping into Summerfest.

(You’re goddamed right.)

Doesn’t matter how awful the ex-lead singer of Live is or was. He’s going out kicking and screaming, and for that I have admiration and respect.

(Good for him.)

At least he’s not spending the last few decades of his life tripping out on a god damned television.

I’m still glad I left, though.

(He was horrible.)

Chapter Four: I Hate the Fucking Eagles (2013 continued)

They’re all standing in line to see The Eagles. It was one of the longest lines I’ve ever seen in my entire life, honest to fucking god.

(I hate the fucking Eagles)

Side note: I only asked one person to go with me to Summerfest this year. As much as I love my people, there are only a few I actually crave to be next to….Mostly, I prefer the company of music in solitude….

T-Shirt #6: There is no finish line.

#17: The casually walking and talking pace.

T-Shirt #7: Keep Calm and Carry On

Who the fuck started this Keep Calm craze?

At what point does “cute” officially become “annoying?”

9 times out of 10, if you’re a couple in your mid-40’s and you’re holding hands, you’re probably drunk.

Just saw a couple in their 60’s (not holding hands) walking together with genuine, wrinkled smiles. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life. Honest to god.

The bass player for The Eagles could have walked right past me, and the fuck if I’d know.

Sunglasses off.

It’s a bit scary, making all this eye contact.

One out of every 250,000 girls is right for me, I figure. Maybe half a million.

Trust me.

It’s me, not you.

Don’t look down.

Keep your head up, girl. You’re beautiful.

(Own it!)

T-Shirt #10: (Cool story, babe. Now pass me the remote.)

The baby in the stroller smiled at me, turned to her mom to get her attention, failed, and smiled at me as she took off.

T-Shirt #11: Keep Calm and Kill Zombies

T-Shirt #12: Single and Ready to Mingle Fuck

#18: The I’m listening to my radio, trying to look important, I’m a police officer in training walk.

Two bearded, pot-bellied, mid-30’s, (Chicago cool) Bro-mance-sters were walking with a strut, drinking their beer, and smoking matching cigars. They could’ve been holding hands for all it’s worth.

(I love this fesitival with all my heart. )

Teenager. Full body laughing with braces. Beautiful. Soak it up, child. Soak it up.

Seriously, most of these (adult) couples are pretending. Holding hands and pretending to be happy.

“Where’s that remote, mother fucker?”

With plates of food and on-going conversations, the smell of donuts, and a light breeze off the lake.

All of this.

All of it.

It’s so fucking beautiful.

Some Brazilian guy and I just had a moment. He pointed at me and smiled, and I did the same.

(I can’t stop laughing about this.)

And the 16-year-old girl with the cowboy boot strut is lost and on her cell phone.

Go fucking figure.

T-Shirt #13: This is my weekend shirt.

I ended up here, at The Rebel Stage on Milwaukee’s lakefront, on a beautiful summer Sunday night, listening to Coventry Jones, probably 53 years old, playing his acoustic guitar, singing, “Like a Rolling Stone” to a drunken few, and this writer thinks Jones is pretty fucking cool to be doing this, and definitely worthy of lamb meat.

“Like a rolling stone.”

I’ll continue to walk further and further away, and the music will fade.

Chapter Two: This Canadian Rock Band Couldn’t Give a Fuck About Donald Driver (2010-2013)

( One year later) 06/24/10

Summerfest 2010

(Observations while walking to the lakefront) on a weekday!

• high rise apartment window washers are voyeurs.

•I imagine this middle aged, slightly overweight gentleman in front of me,

•shirt off

•long hair

•sunburnt back fat

•fancy silver watch

•Nike shoes (pristine)

•power-walking with 5 pound dumbbells in each hand

is none other than Ace Frehley of KISS.

(is KISS even playing tonight?)

07/07/2011

Summerfest 2011

Forced myself to come down here alone today.

Tired of being alone (here at Summerfest).

Currently at the local music stage….the only stage with remotely interesting music (during the day at least)

No cover bands……..no lame 21 year olds. Mostly musicians in their 30’s……..local scene institutions who will never “make it big.”

The current band I am witnessing, Madison’s El Valiente, is no exception. Very interesting music…super tight performance….they’re feeling it, I’m feeling it, but they’ll never make any serious money.

(They just won’t)

Should that matter?

If the art is sound, should the money matter?

(I’m not going to answer that.)

(Not now, at least.)

Wednesday, June 26, 2013:

Summerfest 2013:

Donald Driver just introduced some Canadian band. (It’s come to this.)

We’re in the middle of the first song. Driver’s still on stage, clapping his hands, looking like an overzealous hype man.

The music’s fine, but the sound….(the mix as it were) sounds awful. Everything is way too loud. I know I’m getting older, but this is ridiculous!

“What a treat to get such a grand introduction.”

She was lying through her teeth.

This Canadian rock band couldn’t give a fuck about Donald Driver.

Driver’s finally offstage now, the lead singer put down her flute for song #2, and the mix is still way too loud.

(People are walking past me, putting fingers to their ears.)

(Singing…)

“I’m not looking for new. You’re all I needed.”

Yeah yeah yeah……blah blah blah..

“Can you guys put your hands together like this?”

Clap clap clap.

(No.)

And to my left a parade passes, flags twist, tuba’s shined up for the big day.

They’re marching through.

The Canadian band has never been to Milwaukee, and they think we have a nice thing going on here.

(Agreed, lady)

Also passing:

•cat hair on a black dress

•dirty toes

•tattoos on feet

•several people wearing Donald Driver shirts

Bass player singing this next one. He can’t really sing, the bass is throbbing through every note (skip some, bro), and the lead singer’s harmonies aren’t making up the difference.

I have a pretty good guess as to who 98% of these beautiful people are.

I’m 37.5 years old.

I’m an observer.

I’ve already seen 2 hickies. Gross.

(Fucking teenagers)

Wednesday, June 26, 2013 Summerfest

I will not be, in any way, shape or form, be attached to a cigarette during the festival….probably for the first time since 1993.

Jesus Christ.

It feels good to finally be on the other side.

(Finally.)

These people…..

All these people.

Beautiful, to me.

Fucking beautiful.

In all of their aches and pain. In all of their happiness and joy.

We are all the same.

We all keep walking.

We all keep walking.

(Unless you’re confined to a wheel chair.)

With toe rings and cheap sunglasses, with bellybutton jewelry dangling and Harley Davidson tattoos.

Balloon hats, information booths, and singing along to that song you know.

With broken hearts, cell phones pressed to the ear, and maybe one more beer.

It’s all right here, at Milwaukee’s annual music fesitival, Summerfest.

(and it’s all beautiful to me)

I am a bit concerned, though. Some of these folks look extremely unhealthy.

(Sad, but true.)