12. PUKEGRASS, PEANUT BUTTER & DOLCE & GABANNA

By J.J. Colagrande

Oh. My. God. The idea to keep out rif-raff from our campsite like totally didn’t really work. This one guy came into our shelter, helping himself to our whiskey. He stuck a finger in our peanut butter and started talking drunkenly about how he didn’t want to have sex with me or Geri or even Shore Morris–he didn’t want to have sex with anyone–I was like okay, Pukegrass, time to get your ass grooving on down the road, to which he received a gentle shove from me. Get going, Pukegrass–go stake a flag and call it your home–that was my new word–Pukegrass–some people camping nearby had a flag with those words on it. It was a stupid word, but I liked it. We had walked back to our camp because Geri wanted to get some of her clothes and put the hooping gear away for the night. Shore Morris and me tagged along because she needed help carrying stuff; well Shore Morris carried the gear. Kurtis disappeared on a stupid mission looking for a pipe or something. Geri said Kurtis always had a way of disappearing and popping up. I really liked Geri’s ability to trust. Besides, we were Guardians of the Fairy Convent.  I remember when I first met them at Oracledang I thought her and her man were dirty Bob Marley white spanish dreadlock dudes. I’m laughing at how far I’ve come in a short period of time. I mean, hello. Princess, a 18-year old South Floridian, chilling at a four-day music festival in West Virgina, dating a 37-year old Asian hippie anarchist. And loving every second of it. I might not have let it on, but I loved the whole trip and kind of secretly wanted everyone to like me because I really liked them so much. With Geri I felt a connection. She even let me tag along with her to Shakedown Street.  Shopping and me equals heaven. Oh. My. God. The vendors. Like better than South Beach, cheaper, more options. Instead of Hermes, Dolce & Gabbana, Valentino and Pucci–we perused Hooked, Dragonfly, Eagle’s Nest Outfitters and Bella Luna. Everything looked so colorful and loose fitting and open. And we could trade, if we wanted to. Geri sewed her own work. And she showed off the wares to some people who seemed extremely impressed with her craftsmanship. Some vendor Phunkypatches actually loved Geri’s patchwork so much they took all of her clothes on a consignment deal, and they said anything else she made to send them. The business transaction occurred so smoothly. Impressive? You betcha! No lawyers, no contracts, just a card with a receipt and a handshake. When I questioned Geri about legitimacy, she explained among family it was easier. Phunkypatches wasn’t going anywhere. Geri even gave me a shirt, kick-down. I hugged her. What a cool vibe. This All Good thing.

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