People sometimes call me their “hippy” or “free-spirited” friend. I’d like to think it’s because I’m generally happy and laid back and open-minded. Realistically, its probably because my life is made up of rash decisions that most would call irresponsible and crazy. But let’s be honest, the people who think of me this way, are probably far too responsible for their own good.

But I will tell you one thing- if you want to meet a true free-spirit, go to a music festival. There, you will meet the guy dressed in cargo pants with a sewed-on cat tail, a topless girl sitting on someone’s shoulders and swaying to Young the Giant, the shirtless stoner, the hippy giving away free hugs, and the guy with dreads passed out in the middle of the empty field.- I’m telling you, these sights may cause you to reconsider the definition.

We left for Firefly on Wednesday night, dropped of the dog at a friend’s place and carried our our luggage, the guitar, and the pillows to the four train on the corner of 86th and Lexington. After forcing our way on the subway, we went down to Fulton stop and took the Path Train into Jersey City. There, we met our friend Erin who drove us to our meeting spot in the suburbs. The next morning we took to the the road at 6 AM, met up with a friend of a friend’s friend, and arrived at our camp site in Delaware with 5 other strangers.

We drank in the morning, listened to live music, pee-d in the bushes, sweat, danced in the thicket, relaxed in hammocks between sets, napped in tents, wore glow stick necklaces, waited together in line for the porter potties, played our own music, and made real memories out of a trip I will never forget- with people who no longer feel like 5 random strangers I shared a camp ground with during some weekend in June.
If you’ve never tried it, do. But don’t forget a bandana for the dust and some toilet paper for the- well- just don’t forget the toilet paper.

Birthdays and Flag Day. Cheers!


Happy 23rd Birthday to the kid who showed up to his first college Halloween apartment party dressed-up as Baby Batman.  The punk whose past-time is taking double-chin photos of me and texting them to everyone he knows.  The kid whose favorite song used to be “Disturbia,” and who used to dance to it freely-by himself and under the strobe lights in a certain Roanoke Street fraternity house basement.  The kid who at the same time, managed to graduate college with honors, and now gets paid more than I do.  You suck, but I’m proud of you.

I know it’s not normal to share a birthday with a non-twin sibling, but it’s the only normal I have ever known.  And if there is one thing that I’ve learned over the years, it is that the only thing better than free alcohol on your birthday, is being able to share the day with one of your best friends. 🙂 love you, B. cheers to us and Flag Day!