So we have these city festivals once a year, they’ll have different kinds of music playing on different stages in the middle of the cities, free of charge if you don’t mind the rediculous price for beer.
Since the dawn of time those festivals happen to feature at least one stage totally dedicated to ‘dark’ music which (given how goths are a curious crowd that can be attracted by a band name they only once heard someone once talk about, especially if they don’t have to pay) usually happens to be one of the largest stages at the place. So i thought i’d whip my camera out and take a few shots of the bands and probably even the crowd ( even if you can bet on seeing none of them in a normal club because they’re either 14 or spend the few money they get for beeing unemployed on “mead” and “absinthe” while sitting on some church stairway, talking about how their parents hate them)
Arriving there, i suddenly remembered what it was that made me detest and not visit these concerts for years: the nauseous feeling you get as soon as you enter that dome of cheap patchouli and sweat stink that starts approximately 50 metres away from the stage.
It was hot and i was sweating my ass of myself, but there is this distinct difference between new sweat after you came out of the shower and put on some deodorant and old sweat which dried and had enough time to develop a consciousness and it’s own set of ethics over the range of days they successfully ignored the presence of a freshwater supply system in our country.
And these are the same people who run to the front of the stage 10 minutes after the band has started playing (which they didn’t notice, since they weren’t hanging around at the stage for like 3 days already..) and get really nervous to make it into the front rows, because they somehow suffer from the totally fucked up delusion that those bands cannot play without them dancing as support.
Small notice you smelly fucked up freaks: they get paid for it, they don’t play because you’re there and would also play if you had already ended up as dripping half decayed sack of fat in front of your computer after dying from your own smell days before the concert. What by the way could happen every moment now, too so prepare for meeting your maker:
i recommend rubber boots for long distance walks in main sewer pipes.
One day, we’ll have incinerators for you people
