There is a deep creak of rusted hinges as you slowly press forward the ancient oak. Curiosity overtakes you and an unnamed force pulls you ever nearer to its alien source. Once inside, you are closer to the din of insane laughter accompanied by a deeper, constant hum coming from even further away. More of a feeling than a sound, it is the thundering boom of bass decks and their resonance traveling through the veins of the earth to enter at your feet and slide right up your entrada gratis. Let go of your fears for this is Suwannee Hulaween and it is the medicine to cure all ailments. Strike man strike! Expose thyself and allow the healing waters of the spring to do their magick. Bienvenido a la fiesta grande. It is fully exposed and completely immersive, and this the circus for which you are looking.
The ten year anniversary the of Full Moon Family Reunion brought everything to the hagglin’ table and produced one of the slickest music festivals of all time. Improving on an already crystalline formula, Hula continues to get better each year and everyone, from the professional cuddlers to the river pirates raised the ante and doubled on the bet. The Spirit of Suwannee Music Park fam reached new heights with this addition of the annual Halloween festival and, once again the forests and fields served as a perfect backdrop for the countless adventures and experiences that would materialize under the magical beauty of the cypress trees. The weather was perfect all week in Live Oak reminding us why it’s perfect time for the annual shift to the tropics. For many of the Hulaween faithful, the Spirit of the Suwwannee Music Park is home and in the words of Shanaenae of Free Range Strange, at their Friday set on the Campground Stage, “It’s good to be home.” Let go. Bats aren’t real. Wade in the water. This is Immersion Therapy at Suwannee Hulaween “23. We are not human traffic cones. This is our time. This is our place. This is our story.
Immersion/Exposure Therapy? A phobia is an anxiety disorder involving excessive and persistent fear of a situation or object. Exposure to the source of the fear can trigger an immediate anxiety response. Immersion therapy is a psychological technique which allows a patient to overcome fears and can be used for anxiety and panic disorders. How many people at the show can get uncomfortable in large crowds? Get ready to face all of your phobias. Dirt? Loud noises? Ground glitter? Hulaween is bubbling, frothing ready to address all of your psychoanalytic needs and show you how really silly the whole thing can be. Just lie back and let it happen. The doctor is in.
C’mon now. The yoke was never supposed to be that heavy. What would be the point in something like that? Call it creative design but let’s assume the universe was written with more elaborate purpose. Mixed in with the call to arms, there is surely a time for celebration, frivolity and fun. Get out of the head. Do the work. Breath. Stay up all night. Sing. Dance. Let go. Serve. Embrace the ego death. Dip your balls in it. Suwannee Hulaween celebrated its ten year anniversary with a Full Moon Family Reunion that took everything Hula has learned in a decade and rolled it all into one overstuffed burrito of high-science, sharp fun. It was a heaping spoonful of high exposure and data overload, yes and thank you. Your pleasure is my time. The lineup was filled with four straight days of eclectic, gender-bending music, artists, vending, food, friends and loose side adventures.The String Cheese Incident and Pretty Lights anchored a list that included Trey Anastasio Band, Goose, Free Range Strange, Les Claypool’s Fearless Flying Frog Brigade, JRAD, Lespecial, John Summit, Dispatch and a metric ton of more. For goodness sake and criminy peat, what else could you need?
Prologue. Lucy and Baitbucket stopped in Rome, Georgia for a few days of stagehand work and were going to be dangerously tardy for homesteading property in the Farm Field. They had somewhere around thirty people coming to camp near the shade of the Poncho Tree so there was definitely work to be done. The Pine and Farm Field is covedeth land and fortunately the greasiest Mexican came Sunday early and worked with Lil d Big Arel from Cheese. Love. Sauce. to rope off some plantation land, near the Titty Kitties (always) and across the street from Mateo and the River Pirates in the Pine Field. Location, location, location. One can just see this place turning into Asheville. Sure to sellout the first chance they get. They come early and like hummingbirds and salmon, return to the same spots every year so they can mate and die. It’s important the Shady Witch of the Panhandle can find Kamp Happiness within the flashing mural of pounding madness. Hippies use front door. You should check it out. It’s pretty inviting. All are welcome.
Hobo Kamp homesteaded a sliver of land at the Poncho Tree and set up shop in original Kamp Happiness settlement. The Hurt Locker landed near the bat house crossroads and homesteaded a sizable patch right on main street. Somewhere between Major Malfunktion and Live Oak, there came a tear in her in her inflatable rainbow. Somehow Baitbucket was going to have to shift the blame to Boston and Sam. It would be easy. They were a known pair of degenerates and admitted criminals. Richmond trash book ended the strip with Kiera and Q the Roanoke Mafia at the other end. Thanks to Pedro and Lil d for saving space in the Pine Field which filled up quickly. Thanks to the unpaid, unsung minions who helped people find places to park without upsetting each other or the natural balance. Wednesday is easy when level heads prevail and isn’t it in the best interest of the park that we take an ownership role and become stewards of our own forest? You already know. The math checks out.
From Stephen Barry.
Missed Connection:
To the young lady who thought her tambourine sounded good with all the music performances…
You’re wrong.
Stop doing that.
Don’t call me.
Golf cliches? Rockford’s favorite son, Señor Bitchell, the Chillicothe Kid and Sergeant at Arms for the Order of the Wilted Lilly, showed up with a loose O ring and his usual professional, gitterdun attitude. Evidence would show he was singularly responsible for the lip sore shared by most of the camp throughout the week. Dress for the job you want, not the one you have. He also contributed to Bfly’s cafeteria and along with Q, the first KH Street Kitchen was born. Yes, those petals are soft and edible. Push button, drink beer.
Wednesday. Data Overload. Encroachment Issues and More…
It was still early in terms of the festival marathon, but there were times Wednesday night when Lucy began to experience slight data overload. All things being said, it was still manageable but she could see that sensory input and waves were beginning to come at her with increased frequency. She would use breathing exercises all weekend when she needed to control her heart rate or internal temperature. Navy Wook Seal exercises for festival success. Write that down.
He was afraid to open the antique suitcase. He could only dare to imagine what was inside? A raping ball of black mambas? Roasted monkey nuts? It was stenciled with their emblem y Mateo. It would prove to be a Linda piano accordion from Italy mixed with a dense black mold that would later and forever imprint his mother’s guest room. It was as wide as a Plymouth and twice as heavy. It was providence that it was always going to end up with Mateo, who ended up with his lightning bolt jacket from Rum 132.
World’s worst ambassador “puts the lotion on the pig.”
Ryan Mason coined the look of the high vis vest. Where did the radios even come from? Who was he actually speaking to? It was connected to someone at Cheese. Love. Sauce. Maybe? Who were they? “It puts the lotion on the pig?” and other hideous, whispering sounds. What did it mean? Audio hallucination had begun to seep into the fold.
Golly. Don’t worry there old chap. It’s not just you. Everyone is having a psychotic episode. It’s all happening at the same time and it’s your turn to push through. Moonspittle approached Pedro’s garbage patch asking for an escort back to Hippy Trail. One of the pleasures of any busy festival is the chance to have one-on-one walks with friends and a little time to visit. The sunrise conversations over gateway specialty cocktails like potato salad coladas and Bloody Marys iced with dirt and ash. Hulaween fancy.
Baitbucket had made a gentleman’s agreement with the neighbors on what would constitute the property line between the two camps. EJ pulled in with hashtag vanlife and ripped back into her usual spot with veracious impunity. Reports that she’d been lost to the loop had been thankfully exaggerated. She was back in the woods with her people. Shortly after, several long recreation vehicles sat blinking in the middle of the fire lane, waiting for someone to move the van, to which EJ and her keys were nowhere to be found. Baitbucket opted to remove himself from the scene and hide at the Hurt Locker on the other side of the field. At precisely the same time, the chicken bus trying to back into a sliver of space behind the Oldsmowagon smashed the pile of Pedro’s possessions with its quarter panel, sending the rest of her junk into the antique grotto and trash emporium. They appeared to be losing control of the area. As so far it had been kept organized and calm but chaos was slowly creeping in. Like Bedouin traders living in a gypsy paradise. Never miss a Wednesday show.
When the shadow people come calling, through one over your shoulder and help someone find a place to park. There’s room for everyone who uses their inside voice, otherwise your campsite could be the site of a sunrise megaphone meditation of bull whip clinic. Live Oak tribe grew up here. They are the workers, the pirates, the camp musicians. Professional tweakers of the spunion tribe.
Ingress
Wednesday night at Hulaween is the preparty of all functions. As vehicles begin filling in the corners and encroachment issues ensue, patience is a virtue. Chasity (not ChasTity) and her late-night joyrides to the airstrip set the low-bar standard for the entire weekend. She lost her festival bracelet as early as Tuesday? She even took Pedro, Baitbucket and Gandalf the Fuzzy to swipe the production Jolly Roger across town. They were run off by production security but there were still a couple more hours until sunrise and Mexicans don’t sleep.
The Art of the Low Wave and Lost Dreams. Hannah Montana from Cheese. Love. Sauce.? We’ve got some more questions for you cowgirl. Now there is someone with a good head on her shoulders. Finally, someone at that camp that makes an iota of sense. It can be difficult to sleep when one arrives at Suwannee. Lucy had already seen a great deal in the last few days but when asked to elaborate and put words to the memories they just came out in the form of spit bubbles. Dripping from the crusty corners of her mouth and the bloated, yellow tongue lined fresh with sores. Her body was rejecting the witches brew of poisons she was ingesting at previously unheard of rates. They did manage to leave $40 for the coochie couch they popped with their bodaciousness. It was the Hula of lost dreams. Bingo never happened. She never manned the trading post or cooked a single meal despite bringing enough perishable food to feed an army. Katie Majik would have called it the cooler of good intentions.
The White Ninja was hiding in plain sight. They’d camped next to he and the Roberto at Elements and accepted the invite to Hulaween. Good idea Francisco. It boggles the mind how KH could miss Tristan and Cat completely but the White Ninja could run into his ex girlfriend seven times a day. Just lucky I guess. Likely he got tossed and ended up at the Billy Strings/Sierra squared WrestleMania.
Nothing all weekend could ever be as immersive and outlandishly beautiful as Spirit Lake. The Hulaween interactive art area was the most expansive version ever, covering more space and with more to see. Data overload. At times all one could do is sigh and smile with a pleasant sense of disbelief at the immense production value. The Mural Maze, Incendia Stage and speakeasy were filled with all manner of strange and pleasantly warped distractions and it’s easy to see the love put into each attraction.
El Scorpio screamed, “Keep your head on a swivel. There are shoplifters about!” The Circle K? Trading Post was getting picked clean by varmints. It’s an absolute zoo. Dock that guy a day’s pay for nappin’ on the job. Obviously, there’s a chink in the armor. Call security, the thinly dressed therapist needs to be enthusiastically frisked.
2:45
Lucy needed to sleep for a few hours, the voices were getting louder now and the shadow people were closing in. There was a stink coming from her back that followed her around. Do you smell it? It’s like death. If I go to bed for a few hours will it go away? Absolutely sir. Don’t forget, pressure creates diamonds.
The Cheese “Moon” set was a blistering example of what the String Cheese Incident brings to the table Saturday night at Hulaween. Consistently one of the most fun sets of the year, it did not disappoint. Walking on the Moon, by the Police and Spanish Moon by Little Feat were fan favorites in a set filled with fun.
The Soundship Spacesystem Tour. They were strolling calmly to their first-ever Pretty Lights set and as El Scorpio heard the “Midnight Rider/Cocaine” mash up he began running through the vending area waving his arms like a majorette. Through only the braided coincidence that Hula can offer, they all ended up at the Torch party at the letter H. Pretty Lights brought the funkiest of sets turning otherwise normal people into monkeys. Believe what you want. Sunday was even more hippy perfection as Pretty Lights dropped into a “Shakedown Street” that had the wooks coming out of their union suits and lederhosen. At the Pretty Lights set, Lucy took a spill on the hill near the HULA sign. Your honor, the ground there was simply not level. Sometimes a person takes a fall and fortunately there’s no one around to witness it, this was not like thatin the slightest. She was facing uphill and thumping to that Saturday night set and backed up over a couple ladies that were seated on the ground. The impact was recorded by seismographs as far away as Austin, Texas and all she could do was make a peace offering in the form of her hippy-camouflage pine cone necklace groundscored from Secret Dreams. Baby steps back to the elevator…
7:50
Seat’s Taken. Did you witness the various iterations of Forrest Gump running around the venue with runner, table tennis, Vietnam, Bubba Gump… all zipping alone through the campsites and coming together in the venue.
At some point he believed the Iceman was trying to smuggle himself in or was lurking about and using the megaphone he put a bounty on his head hoping to influence some kind of man-hunt. It was all for moot. No one was actually listening and subsequently the megaphone was taken away and returned to its rightful owners. Sad face emoji. Tough titty said the kitty but the milk tastes good.
From Matthew Kabb.
Missed Connection:
I’m looking for my Glory hole Whippit Cinderella. I first tried to get anyone’s attention by sticking the nozzle out the VIP fence off Stable Road to no avail. I blurted out “glory hole whippit” to which you responded “seriously” I answered “yes” and you worked your mouth up on my nozzle and took half the canister before finishing it off on a second hit and wandering off into the night. I know it was a anonymous but I need to know, are you out there my Glory hole Whippet Cinderella?
What’s the rumpus? It may have been a rumor but how about Manic Focus covering Rage Against the Machine? Pigeons covering Pink Floyd as the original Monkey King’s favorite set of the weekend? Golly. By this time Pedro likely had sepsis and needed a hip replacement. She was too weak to lift herself from the ball pit and had to be exhumed by Bfly. Her mustache was silted with a fine layer of Daytona dry wall and her left eye had begun to twitch violently.
Baitbucket lost his megaphone when the two hot girls with the tequila took Mateo’s golf cart. He later stole Mateo’s megaphone and covered it with stickers so it would look like his own. Strange how these things happen. Had someone used it, it would have been easy to locate. Stolen or lost, like so much self-respect.
All criss cross, no applesauce.
In the gathering of lovers,
there is no high, no low,
no smart, no ignorant, no special assembly,
no grand discourse, no proper schooling required.
There is no master, no disciple.
This gathering is more like a drunken party,
full of tricksters, fools, mad men and mad women.
This is a gathering of lovers.
– Rumi
El Scorpio was working the Circle K? Trading Post when a young wookling came up and began dancing barefoot on his inventory. He broke a couple of masks before spitting on the pile and and suggesting his spit was worth some intrinsic value. When asked if he could trade a hug for a product, El Scoripio starred at him disgusted and screamed, “Don’t touch me”. Beat it hippie. Hugs don’t pay the bills.
El Scorpio the Consigliere and Hippies Dressed as Cops…
He was so proud of his new shower and why not? Fancy people deserve VIPness treatment. One second it’s a private place to wash that stink off, the next minute Blanco is standing outside of the shower tent hunkered over as her long curls are caught in the zipper. Naked and screaming as she slowly is being devoured by fire ants. Welcome to the portal.
The Consigliere and Blanco raided the Frick Frack table late night. EJ had already fleeced them but they ended up with his glowing scorpion belt buckle. “They took everything from me.” By the time he walked into camp he was wearing nothing but a barrel with old leather straps over the shoulders. He still had his scorpion bola tie but it was obvious the cards hadn’t fallen his way. Probably Sheriff Phoenix, he’s a sly one and has to be watched. Keeper of lost souls indeed. Blanco was dressed as a cop and along with the flashlight she had hippies walking the straight line all night. Gambling is an addiction but the Consigliere knew when to stop. He’d been trying to win the antique bingo spinner for Pedro’s bingo extravaganza that would never actually happen in a million-trillion years. Everyone was still on the lookout for the scorpion belt buckle, but the Frack thugs were keeping it close to the proverbial vest.
Something was wrong with the Consigliere and Lucy knew it. He looked at her with his Katy Perry lizard eye, its sideways blinking lens. Good luck finding a Japanese woman to suck out your Wal Mart contacts when it gets logged behind your troglodyte skull. Around five am security scooted in to shut down the El Scorpio request happy hour. Quiet time? Methinks a hard no. This is Hulaween and we are camped in the dirt with the forest people. This shop is open 24 hours a day.
The Art of the Disco Nap
He slept on the outdoor rug with two squishmallows, Kierra’s inflatable couch in Ka’aoli’s kitchen. Friday night it was a lawn chair at Mateo’s house and the passenger side of someone’s unlocked vehicle. He woke up and the sky was changing color. The phone read 7:30 but he didn’t know if it was am or pm. Which way were the bats heading? He wasn’t sure what day it was and for that matter he didn’t care. He was lost in the nebula and it felt good. All was well in the world.
George and Blancito led the way with nightly homegrown camp music. As per usual, Big Betty would shake her curves and invite other men to slap her. If they had only known the dumpster fire that would come with the pleasure. Something that could be felt down to the bone of the bone. Someone from Cheese. Love. noted how everyone shared at Hulaween and she had never seen a festival with such a collaborative spirit.
Beware the Expectation Monster. It was the warmest time of the day when the Consigiliere offered him the honey. Lord knows he needed it. His voice had been gone since Thursday and it felt like he’d guzzled an ashtray colada. The honey, which unknowingly had been sitting in the sun all day, squirted down his gullet with surprising force and ease. Bucket realized only a few seconds later that it was some kind of spicy pepper honey and he was the victim of a premeditated and cowardly attack by a pathetic man-child. Others would suggest the fake hundreds were the worst joke of the week, but the honey was worser.
Spunderella claimed she was a “professional cuddler” but a nube, shocked even to hear Werewolves of London and coming to understand that no drug is ever as potent at lack of sleep. Mikey won at wook bingo when he unzipped his tent only to find Baitbucket rolled up in his bed and sleeping soundly.
Kudos to the Soup Kitchen for winning the Mississippi blue ribbon first place award for best top knot. Second place went to some Lil d with his, “samurai fun house gremlin” and for the passing by hipster who wouldn’t consent to enter the contest. For his efforts, or lack thereof, he shall receive a single lump of dried dog poop and a lifetime of anguish. Congratulations to all our winners.
A Hulaween tradition, all the hippies found their way to Joe Russo’s Almost Dead and a Terrapin closer that left a lingering tingle that would remain all weekend. Terrapin Thursday? The Friday lineup was one of the best days of music ever. Bucket spent the whole afternoon and night wandering from camp to camp visiting friends and making new ones. His lineup included Free Range Strange, Roosevelt Collier Band, String Cheese, String Cheese, Les Claypool’s Fearless Flying Frog Brigade, Trey Anastasio Band, Goose and Lespecial closing it out. Damn son, that’s a full menu.
Alley Cat was reported cutting off people’s hair without permission. She’d found her way back to Hobo Kamp after last year’s sunrise megaphone meditation and was apparently saving the hair for some kind of putrid shrine. Red flag. Bandera roja. She even managed to pull a little from security which, once again did a spectacular job of moving people along safely and without hassle. The lines were short and the attitudes were gracious. Saving lives, one hippy at a time.
Brocoliah and Justin owned the east side of the street where her leave on/take one produced the occasional airplane bottle of Rumplemintz. She and George joined for primordial groundscore Monday and there is nothing in the world more fun. Lucy’s legs were bloated, her feet tingling and scarred, and she had strawberries on her hips from wiping out the electric bike in the sugar sand. Her fingernails contained all manner of filth and her feet? You already know, hooves black as pitch. They were misplacing things as fast as they were finding them. Short term memory had definitely taken a backseat to free roaming brown outs. The weatherman called for a high chance of scattered gravity storms.
Randy Savagery and The Strange. The Florida Fam showed up en masse for the Free Range Strange set on Friday at the Campground Stage. That’s right big boy, it’s the savagery that makes us randy. And don’t get us started about the beast on bluegrass cajon. The prisons in Florida must have revolving doors. The whole show was filled with fierce music, dancing and family fun. One of the best shows of the weekend to be sure. They may have missed their late night Strange set at Kamp Happiness due to the fact they were already eating fried hamsters in Cuzco. There is no more joyous sound than Sunnie Rae’s voice lifting through the Suwannee forest till the wee hours of the morning. Boom. Mop wig drop.
“I thank the Lord for the people I have found.”
Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters, E. John.
In memorandum for Clayopheus I the original Roanoke Mafia (Shawsvegas Annex) and premier Hulaween creature. His ghost and many others danced alongside the living through the weekend.
Obviously, there was something wrong with him. He couldn’t seem to get out of the ants. He continued to scream the scream of a man who was mired in a helpless maze of deeply personal confusion. Ross starred at the vivid scene with sadness.. There was really nothing he could do for the fool. After he’d calmed down a bit, he was asked to move his vehicle backwards a few feet for Jenn and Ross. It shouldn’t have been such a chore but he was having some kind of fit and his brain had atrophied to that of an infant. The car was backing up much faster than he’d expected it should. There was little room for error as he, unable to find the brake pedal, rolled backwards toward the open door of the school bus. Where was the damned brake pedal? The car continued to steam backwards and as he finally leaned hard onto the emergency brake the vehicle slowly came to rest just a few inches from the bus. Take these keys. Get the behind me Satan.
River Pirates
Gandalf the Greasy and the Suwanee River Pirates raised the bar at this year’s celebration coming away with thirteen Jolly Rogers at last count. Planning combined with practiced execution makes this crew one of the most formidable anywhere. Their twenty-four hour security team patrols the square where the booty is displayed and in tandem with the outer ring of buried Alaskan badger traps, it’s a rare bird that wins back her freedom. What lesson did the River Pirates teach everyone this year? Don’t bring your Jolly Roger to Live Oak if you care about it. Keep it at home under your bed. Mail it to your grandmother up north. Fold it up and hide it in a time capsule for a thousand years, just don’t bring it to Suwannee. There are pirates in these woods and they follow their own code of conduct. Production will always get the worst of it. Crew One, James Thomas? Yes all day. Pangea? Yes more. You will always get the worst of it and for you, no quarter will be given. Sorry, not sorry. Go have a Four Loco. There are no cherry pickers in hell.
Amigos of Pedro, Serious Homesteading and A Mexican Cheese Wedding
Her jacket was made from the upholstery of a 1982 sofa bed from Sarasota. All she was missing was the grotesquely over sized partical board entertainment shelf and a linty pocket of old, hard candy. The Captain’s hat was only for aesthetics as she’d lost her captain’s licence running generic viagara and Mayan artifacts through the Bay of Honduras. The pocket watch was still on Chillicothe time. Summer Camp executive. Still, through all the missteps of life found the uncommon streetwalker laying in the pile of discarded trash she called her front yard. Mike had to learn the hard way, when you move next door to someone, you can’t know that they’re going to leave all of their kid’s plastic toys outside forever. Just go ahead and leave the Christmas lights up, it’s already trashy. There was no method to the madness and it got worse as the weekend progressed. And then the Mexican finds a perfect pair of Birkinstocks in the garbage? Likely left in the ball pit by some fraternity boy during late night, tag-team “cougar hour”.
It was the best of times. There was the unsanctioned wedding during the String Cheese set and afternoon dips in the moldy ball pit. Used whipits and warm beer lay around the campsite alsongside other items she brought for the Trading Post. An old tire? Brown flowers? It had a complete Sanford and Son vibe about it and that’s how it would stay.
It wasn’t all a dusty Mexican flea market. There was the pornography section in the prison library, the leave 0ne, take one Mr. Clinkies and they’d brought over a cabana to put near the ball pit. Across the street it was late night road flares creating bubble sand hippy art? And salvation for all the beach goers in the form of the Eucharist? No. This does not compute. It only happens at Hulaween and only by people to the extreme of the deflated rainbow spectrum. Saving souls, one hippy at a time.
Show me what you got!
Circle K? Trading Post. The happy couple did disappear on one of the busiest days of the year. Probably in Costa Rica lounging on a hanging bed in their honeymoon chickee. Luckily the Consigliere was there to pick up the slack and work doubles Saturday and Sunday. The cream always rises to the top. The Sunday night Circle K? proved to be as active as ever and hot trades were the order of the day. Odesza drumsticks and set list from Bonnaroo? VIP shower coupons for Peach? Undersized Green Team vest for Electric Forest? It just goes on. Find the hagglin’ post at your next festival. Okeechobee rag for Pac Man game? Hmmm. Who is watchin’ the store?
2:37
Mateo’s drums and Benjamin’s guitar could be heard across the Pine Field as live music filled the honeypot all weekend. In a festival with a history of late night renegades and sunrise dj, the last few years have shown a real growth in homemade campfire music.Who was that vanilla savage playing the reed accordion like an Ecuadorian street musician? He still owed $40 for the apple pie moonshine and those cracker hoodlums took the little red rooster as collateral. And just after he’d paid the ransom to get it back from those Axton bitches and the Blue Ridge dumpster fire. Lil d tried to come in hard with a leg drop and about blew off the rooster’s entire head and neck. Luckily he only weighed 56 pounds and harmlessly bounced away into the dust and brambles. Luckily he ran with a chicken doctor. He really needed to find a better class of friends.
Phobias are one of the most common mental illnesses in the United States. Typical symptoms of phobias can include nausea, trembling, rapid heartbeat, feelings of unreality, and being preoccupied with the fear object. Exposure therapy is a type of therapy in which you’re gradually exposed to the things, situations and activities you fear. Hulaween is an open floodgate of serious medicine.
10 Phobias that can be impacted by Hulaween immersion/exposure therapy
Ataxophobia: Fear of disorder or untidiness (Visit Pedro’s trash grotto and lukewarm ball pit)
Dendrophobia: Fear of trees (It’s Outerroo for you. Or eat a heroic dose, sit next to a turkey oak and see what happens)
Erotophobia: Fear of sex (Not a problem since you have ablutophobia. Or is this one of those weekends when you’re “not really looking”. Please. You be playin’ hard to want.)
Insectophobia: Fear of insects (Cuddling with pet ticks and Squishmallows on the outdoor rug is pure gold.)
Thughophobia: Fear of unknowingly trying to use a fake $100 in Cracker Barrel with your family.
Nyctophobia: Fear of the dark (Second grade called and said “pull it together”.)
Catagelophobia: Fear of being ridiculed (Do not leave your tent)
Samhainophobia: Fear of Halloween (Welcome to the portal.)
Trypophobia: Fear of holes (Reality will be waiting when you finally emerge)
Ablutophobia: Fear of bathing (Try the 4:30 am boy shower for lukewarm water.)
The Quinn’s Wedding. Impassable Palisades and Morning Waves. The Kitty Titties were having a wedding. The Quinns had found each other and he’d learned when to be quiet. Lucy, Bfly and the Ninja headed to the chapel for the ceremony only to find it had been taken over by the Mural Maze and there was no wedding present. There were three weddings happening simultaneously and hopes of finding the Quinns was slim. Hopeless and deflated, some informed stranger pointed them toward the ceremony inside. They poorly attempted to climb onto the ramparts but the Alamo was easier to get into than this place. The front door was locked, they couldn’t dig under and they couldn’t scale the palisades. Through the gaps in the wood they could see inside and what appeared to be a young boy/man dressed like a short, golden troll. A few moments later the happy couple and court would emerge ready to embark on a life of marriage bliss.
For the second year KH has done their business next to the Titty Kitties. The Kitties show up for Sunrise Reflection and adult meditations in G. In a world of spikes and troughs on the cardiograph of life, the goal is the short wave. Thank you to the original Monkey King for the sunrise sessions. You can’t always choose your neighbors in the forest, sometimes they choose you. Don’t worry, Monroe trash of the seventeenth order, you can eat crackers in my bed anytime, baby.
Keep up with the Hulaween website and check out their social media channels on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and YouTube. Thanks to Bfly for her wildlife photographs and contributing writers Lil d and the Consigliere. The stolen megaphone has a wook wranglers sticker on it so keep a keen eye out. Photo of Sunnie Ray by @onnamaya.
Ed. note: No part of the Farm Field is quiet camping. No sir. Go anywhere else.
Of course this is merely one version of the story. One point of view in a endless plane of points of view. In some ways it changes a little each year and in many ways, it remains the change. Believe what you want. Who could, in good faith, trust these blistered visions from the minds and bodies of people removing sleep, food and water from their diet. Under no circumstances would any of the aforementioned be considered a credible witness. For now, the Hobo Kamp continues to live in the shade of the Farm Field, right next to the Pine Field and not far from the bat house. C’mon Magellan, it’s one of the largest bat houses in the southeast United States. Follow the guano.
Epilogue: They were sharing saline snot with him against his will. He contracted the wook flu. This party is not for the faint of heart. It’s outrageous abuse framed in equal parts savage love and perfect practice. You thought you were the host and you were actually the host. As a vector, mosquitoes don’t get tapeworms. It’s not your fault just because you never wash your hands. It’s all about the weakest link in the most primordial sense. Don’t let the party pound you into sugar sand. You’re stronger than you know. For Christmas he would be asking for a stomach pump, iron lung, blood transfusion and Flor de Caña iv drip. It was time to head to the Villages and dry out for a few days. His mother would beat him in golf and then cut out his dreadlocks in between deep, coma-like sleeps. You are healed. Thanks Hula for providing a safe place for folks to let their hair down and howl at the moon.
Thanks for keeping the wook wranglers near and dear to your festival heart. We love different festivals for different reasons but it always comes back to family. Hulaween is a family festival and the Spirit of Suwannee Music Park is our home park. Thanks to everyone who contributed to what was an unforgettable party. It takes a village of idiots. It was a family reunion and a complete get all the way down. Stay close. Don’t get lost. There’s plenty to unpack here.
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