Shit's going all screwy.

Angelo Trussel, the drummer for Walking on Landmines, is moving to Minnesota. He's a great drummer. However, if he's not going to be around, the next first choice who's interested is... me. Shelby, the guitarist for WOL, has a record label called Emotions False records who record in Sun Studios (yes, THAT Sun Studios. It's actually not that expensive to record there). The vocalist Gabriela is apparently super excited I'll be in the band, and I might start brewing hooch again since everyone in that band drinks.

I've already decided to join and had my first practice in this band, and it went well. In the process of courting the opportunity, I also got my other band, Stay Fashionable a gig with WOL while Angelo is still in town. I know it's a stereo type for drummers to be in tons of bands... yeah, it's a stereotype for a reason. With covid restrictions falling and Shelby just living down the street from me, it only makes sense that I'd join his band. So yeah, SF has a gig 4-9 at RockHouse on Raleigh LaGrange in Memphis as well.

That's a lot of music news considering the buried headline on this post, about my experience attending Fool's Ball.

Fool's Ball/Fall Ball are biannual events that happen in north mississippi run by a family of Dead Heads that's been doing it for 20 years. Mark and Donna Christiansen celebrated their anniversary one year by inviting all their musician friends over and getting extremely fucked up off as many substances they could get their hands on. I'm not trying to dry snitch, but I think you'll get my point here.

So me and Jana are camping in our deluxe giant tarp tent bungalo I rigged up using penny tie outs and a massive 20 by 50 tarps tied between my car and two trees. So the first night this dude named DooDoo shows up, screaming about how he's a water sign and he's looking for a female fire sign and he's carrying around this big stick screaming at the top of his lungs. Apparently this dude is tweaking his absolute nuts off on M E DOUBLE F. He keeps screaming that his name's "DOO DOO" and "DON'T STEP IN ME!!!" He keeps screaming the gamer word even though everyone around is pale as the driven snow. dd It's 40 degrees and this dude is running around with his shirt off, gets into some kinda fight with some dudes, and ultimately gets run off later in the night after screaming for like half an hour.

Well we all wake up the next morning, and this dude is still up, tweaking his fucking tits off, trying to climb trees, screaming at God, trying to talk about religion. He's trying to steal coals from fires to get a fire started. He gets a bud light bottle and wraps a hose around it; he later says it's a symbol of his father's love. He comes to chill in my camp a little bit and I humor him, and he starts talking about the Aryan BrotherHood and talking about how he's dutch, english, and Irish, which, last time I checked, makes him a fucking mutt.

I mean this guy is methed out of his motherfucking mind, which isn't actually a common thing at the Ball. Normally people go there to trip and chill and be all groovy peace and love and shit. I roll him a j to try to chill him out, but he only smokes a few puffs. I always take that as a bad sign someone's a serious meth head if weed can't chill out their tweakery. You can always tell the bad tweakers when they don't even like weed because it harshes their tweak. Dude keeps saying crazy shit about religion and tries to introduce me to Jesus and shit, real fucking psychotic shit. I humor him because fuck, it's the Ball, I expect people to be fucked up here. Dude was farting and barking like a dog, doing a really convincing retard impression, all kinds of wild shit.

I'm chillin, just boiling some coffee and trying to heat up some red beans and rice with sausage I'd cooked the night before.

So old DooDoo wanders off, and the dudes he was screaming at recognized him, and they start fighting. This whacko had been carrying around a giant stump all night. So this DooDoo piece of shit and these two guys start beating the dog shit out of eat other with fucking hunks of firewood, everybody's fucking bleeding, it's a real mess.

So this whitesupremacist tweaker fuck gets thrown out by security, and starts telling all these lies about how he's got to pack his tent and leave in his truck, me knowing full fucking well he was begging for a ride down the street to pick up his tent to me less than an hour ago. Well he hims and haws and runs his fucking mouth until they threaten to zip tie him and drag him out. He balls up his tent and takes it towards the stage...... towards a truck that doesn't exist. And the owners of the tent. Those were all just made up psychotic lies he told to delay getting thrown out, after spending all night claiming he was fucking security, picking fights and trying to throw other people out.

So now it's his last stand, and Dookey dipshit made one very large mistake.

The Ball is run by the Dixie Mob.

And the Dixie Mob's enforce is AwGo Fucking WHAT.

That is his name.

Awgo. What.

Awgo what you say? AW GO FUCK YOURSELF.

He's.... he's a formally diagnosed diassociative system, gets a crazy check, the whole nine. Infamously "treats" his PTSD with vast quantities of LSD, and uses meditative exercise for hours on end doing push ups, sit ups, pull ups, and balancing on ropes and juggling axes for fun. The man is an absolute maniac. Old bouncer at every decent club in Memphis, the guy used to do headstand push ups while getting tazed for kicks. The cops are scare shitless of him, and he regularly runs for elected office just to piss off the government. Dude is... not to be fucked with. Built like a brick shit house.

Like, when I got my head scar, at the Rally Point, Awgo was the security guard there.

So Awgo beats the absolute dog shit out of this guy. Awgo has a dixie flag with gay pride colors tattooed on his neck. He does not play any kind of nazi shit. He personally defaced the Nathan Bedford Forrest statue before it was removed. It's not so much that he loves civil rights so much as he hates fucking nazis and loves hippie shit.

Now this righteous mother fucker Awgo kicks 9 kinds of shit out of this piece of shit DooDoo, they zip tie him up like a trussed hog, toss him in the bed of a truck and toss him in the nearest ditch. Later some cops showed up and the dudes he assaulted probably pressed charges.

Oh, and a guy jumped off an overpass on video yesterday in Memphis.

So yeah, I'm doing fucking great. Totally stable. Nothing triggering me at all right now. Not dissociated AT ALL. Nah, a sleepless weekend camping in the cold as fuck eating funny chocolates and tasting tiny stamps while witnessing a violent assault by a tweaked out whitesupremacist didn't set me off at ALL.

I mean, especially not with 5-12 just a little over a month away. Gosh, that event didn't involve any crazy violent assholes.

Yeah, but musically, shit's going great.