Hulaween “22: Dance of the Monkey Kings

Movement is energy and energy is life. Was it Newton who calculated the relative speed of boofing in a closed system? Copernicus perhaps. They would have certainly both agreed that for one incredible week in the woods of north Florida, the cornerstones of the Cellular Cosmogony came together in the form of moonshine, laser beams, yoga pillows and pyrotechnic animalia, whatever that means. The Planetary Court may have appeared a little silly at first but by Sunday morning, it would all make crystalline sense. It felt as if after years of practice, this was the seamless effort of choreographed perfection. It was group hypnosis and a collective leggo my ego. Welcome back to the annual Halloween party at the Spirit of Suwannee Music Park and home base to the Florida Kamp Happiness annex. Suwannee Hulaween always represents a dance of divine eloquence combined with an unapologetic and brutal savagery. When is a soul supposed to rest within the swirling eye wall of a Mardi Gras parade fused with a living pinata? Straight up pandemonium braided with surgically controlled precision. That’s right flat Earthers, we’re blasting this rocket ship right through the firmament and up into the warm, sparkly place. Welcome to Hulaween “22: Dance of the Monkey Kings. Let it come to you.

From October 27-30, 2022, The Suwannee Horror Disco Show mother ship came to rest in Live Oak, Florida and with it came a music and arts festival complete with a fusion lineup stretching across all genres and creating a space where salty dogs could fall in love with CloZee and younguns could get to know Molly Tuttle. Everyone comes away the wiser. Sure, it was a great lineup but these festivarians don’t even care. This party sells out every year and for good reason. The weekend was complete with jugglers and fire spinners, Thomas Dambo creations and live artists aplenty. The Frick Frack table had the high stakes and branded kamps strove for the lowest bar. Twas a land where no one was homeless and people showed up Wednesday just to help create the layers that would create the gypsy kamp. It was truly a bipartisan initiative to get all the way down to Chinatown.

“Jump in the line, rock your body in time, Oh yea, I believe it!”

The Farm Field represented this year with multiple stupid camps adjacent to each other in the shade of the pines. Cheese. Love. Sauce. sat across the path from Camp Kitty Titty and directly next door to Kamp Happiness. It was an experience defined by it’s high class and low bar. Wook flight is a socio-economic reality of the times. The high-water mark left behind a scum line to show actually how spirited the whole engagement actually got. In this case the creek did rise and all the drywall was going to have to go.

It happens a few days before leaving for Hulaween. One is reminded of the nebulae of fun and unlimited fellowship that comes with this party and it also comes with a feeling of seriousness. Yes of course, a desire to get seriously sideways but also something more. A personal mission to be seriously bad ass, responsible and in charge. Ready to take care of the squad and build a fallout shelter where thugs can sit back, enjoy and feel safe. Folks get serious about being a small cog in what makes Hulaween special; being one of the performers whose contribution adds to the overall jazzy mosaic of the party. Dance monkey dance!

Skip to…The next thing you know the phone is covered in wax, Farmer Brown has fallen over the guitar and the lemon bars have unconsituted. You’ve lost your glasses and can only see vague blobs and colors. It’s the breakdown that reveals itself in the form of a madman who gets to a point where he spends every cent in his bank account, future be damned. Do you remember walking to the car and forgetting why you were there? Of course you don’t.

Every Hulaween is a shade different from the others but this year’s celebration showed what can happen when the rubber meets the road. When practice makes perfect and all the effort bears fruit. The Coach would say it’s all about the process. Perfect practice and hard work to be great so when your number gets called in the big game, you are f’sho ready. It’s nice to work with professionals. The foam rises to the top.

Looters welcome. They had just left the dumpster fire that was Fort Myers, still trying to understand the difference in looting and groundscores. Cheese. Love. Sauce. contributed a piece of #1 copper to the kamp in the hopes of saving catalytic converters. Please don’t leave your alarms on. No one wants to hear that racket when the wooks are out looking for loose change. The good news for the crowd arriving early was that after the Wednesday early price, it was only ten dollars a day upon arrival. Early plans are to get there sometime around September next year. It also meant that if you got Baker Acted you’d still have time to return to the party. Glass half full yo. Never miss a Monday show.

Remember that time the old man had the idea to sell VIP spots near our camp? Come to find it’s not such a good idea. Gio the Dome King showed up in time to help finish the gifted tequila from ground zero of Hurricane Ian with any concerns regarding salt water intrusion being causally overlooked. Welcome to the cone of absolute certitude. This feeder band is gearing up to smack you right in the mouth.

Hot Hula: As it’s already begun snowing in North Carolina, many come to Hulaween for the sweet Florida fall weather and this year certainly did not disappoint. Who wants to see the new fuzzy coat when every version of the Halloween costume would rather show off the flesh? The long night is surely coming and there will be plenty of time for winter gear. Perfect cryostasis was the order of the day with a misty shower that settled the dust early in the week. Thanks to Edon for helping with bubble patrol on the ratchet ez-ups wrangled from Mitch and Blue Ridge Rock Festival. Sometimes one has to walk between the raindrops back to your door. This is only the beginning of the festival season in the Sunshine State and October showing off again in north Florida is a pleasure to measure.

Cheese. Love. Sauce.

It’s always good policy to camp in the Farm Field near Lil d and the rest of the unwashed heathen. There’s ghosts in those woods. Upon arrival he invited Bucket to chug a 16oz of blueberry MD 2020. At least it wasn’t a shotgun as initially suggested but a man’s got to know his limitations. Immediately he could tell Lil d was trying to get him tipsy so he could take advantage of him later. There was also the question of nightly thefts of official KH signage that had to be resolved each morning with complimentary thefts of the assorted Dewalt tools. That’s just the kind of tomfoolery one can expect when moving to sketchy part of town. Lil d used to say, “I never saw a trailer hitch on a hearse.” Bucket could smell the Covid and black mold in Lil d’s beard. Leftover flesh eating disease from playing with wet drywall no doubt. He was an admitted waffle stomper and as a result of that cruel filth, no quarter would be given. Some treasures are best left undiscovered.

Jaime Louise Gallery

Dance of the Monkey Kings. Welcome to the Soup Kitchen:

“But when Quinn the Eskimo gets here, Everybody’s gonna wanna doze”

A constant at most festivals is how neighboring kamps impact the shared experience. Sometimes they do their own thing, hidden behind a wall of tapestries. No judgement as it’s a fine way to keep out the wooks and the law. This year The Chalice of Dragon Tears happened to be godless thugs bent on depraved excellence and colorful intensity. Example. In order to gain entrance to Camp Kitty Titty, one was persuaded to let Rosalita sketch the outline of a feline on their left breast, just like in the Old Testament. Apparently gestapo don’t wear tattoos on their areolas. Believe what you want. By Thursday, Baitbucket realized no one had taken a dump by his vehicle leading him to the conclusion these were some classy folk. The Monkey Kings elected their new leader daily, at times celebrating the extended reign of Diamond Dez. The triple nipple kitty titty invites you to please save your balloons for later. Kudos for the kamp that keeps neighbors alive with burgers, mimosas and saline coladas. Pura Vida beetches. This is the essence of effective wrangling. Take my money.

Loosely translated, jsi mastná nevěstka means “You are a greasy harlot.” You can literally smell the Czechoslovakianess.

Kitty Titty Gallery

From the ramparts of El Castillo de San Marcos, Capt. Drake had already harvested three jolly rogers by sunrise Saturday morning but it was going  to take a talented arborist to capture the one unfurled fifty feet up in the slash pine across the field. Grappling hooks? Spiked boots? Climbing ropes? Things were getting technical and it would surely take a think tank to address this unique opportunity. (Ed. note: Remember folks, tag your jolly rogers so they still advertise for your kamp after they’ve been stolen. There’s no such thing as bad publicity.)

The Suwannee Horror Disco Show also boasted more homegrown kamp music than years in recent memory. Thanks to Benjamin and Jefe for helping to tighten the screws as the week progressed, especially during the Circle K? T-Rex meltdown set accompanied by washboard base and pocket guitarist. With its late night EDM thunder Hulaween doesn’t always give way to acoustic jams but with the help of Miss Cali and the rest of the Kamp Happiness family orchestra, a proper sound bubble was formed and sustained throughout the duration. Take it! “Dip my balls in it!” Thanks to the scab house band who took the controls anytime the lead was absent. It takes a village to raise a ship of fools.

Tenderfoot’s Ubiquitous Lemonland Happy Hour:  In van city, Tfoot slept in the front of his car, leaving it on all night until the gas dried up. He would herald the break of day with “Kick start my Heart”, by Motley Crue along with JBfly and Body Slam by the Floozies. Apparently there’s no room for a volume nazi in this cockpit. Where he got all the lemons was anyone’s guess but in the nights leading up to Hula he turned them into lemon cookies, bars, cakes and lemonade. At one point park personnel came through and gave his Lemonland stand the long, hard stare but pushed on to bigger problems such as how many drums were actually in A Hundred Drums. “You think you’re so smart.” he could hear Brent Mydland say. Another new business that wasn’t going to help with gas money but all the lemonade we can drink. Sit back and meditate on that. And by the way, Buddha was a Donna Godchaux fan.

Tara Gracer Gallery

Sharkbruise? Date night: By Saturday afternoon the ego death had long since been complete and it was time to board the train to funky town. It started with an afternoon at the bogega dab lab. Alley Cat had passed out in the morning and Tenderfoot was taking his siesta during the late afternoon, which was all well and fine. The sitter had been called and for once in a blue moon, it was date night and the folks were going jukin’. It was Sergio’s first night as lounge pianist in the Spirit Lake speak easy and the great crowd really helped get rid of the jitters. After a few classic duets with JBfly, they joined the Ole Dominion rail kidz for Sexbruise? There’s no law against licking powdered sugar off the noses of close business associates. JBfly was reminded of the words of Chief Sequoia, “Hippies dressed like cops is mo betta than cops dressed like hippies”.

“You know that you don’t wanna work. Get on the floor let me see you twerk. Get yourself some Sexbruise?. We got the shit they wanna use”.

The high-energy show featured crowd favorites like “Dance Like Ur Stupid”, “Rite-Aide”, “Strawberry Mayonnaise”, “Quit your job”, “Party in the 80s” and “Cuidado. Piso Mojado”. Baitbucket danced like a younger man on Miami Vice to the extent that somewhere about halftime, as the sweat glands began to sputter and run dry he became convinced he was falling out. Like most, he’d been been pushing himself in every conceivable way and it was only his Navy Seal breathing techniques that saved him. And the fact the set was only sixty minutes long. He’d been discovering the benefits of nose breathing but after sleeping in the dirt, covered with ground glitter for three days, that ship had sailed. The band closed out by hurling treats into the crowd. Boston came away with an airplane bottle of peanut butter whiskey which he gifted to JBfly for them to guzzle during the Disco Cheese set later. Look but don’t touch fellas. That’s my beautiful man-beast.

Cheese Saturday Night: The Suwannee Disco Horror Show:

betelgeuse. betelgeuse. betelgeuse

Saturday night Cheese has always been the centerpiece of the whole groovy affair and this year all signs pointed to a rager of a disco dance party. “She’s a very sexy girl, the kind you don’t take home to mother. She’s a Chesafreak. Chesafreak. She’s Chesafreaky.” And what do you know about Matilda? Some would say she’s a hurricane in all kinds of weather. From the Conga line on stage to the giant floating sandworm. There was dancing from VIP to the tree house, the Hula sign to the rail and all points in between. At some point, even whippets began to fall out of the trees like manna from heaven. If you’re not too tired baby, here comes a reprise of “Timewarp”. When in doubt, twirl.

“Sandworms, you hate em right? I hate em myself.”

Must be Something in the Water: It was happening all around. Nuptials were in the air for many lucky couples and even those crazy kids from Future Joy got in on the action. Their sets were super fun, liquid fire and their bar in the Bird Sanctuary made Southern Living’s ten best late-night watering holes. Thanks for the dog tag. Future Joy Army? When I say dance you say “Count it off and break it down son!” Reporting for duty sir! Also, congrats to the freaks at Mi Kulture for getting hitched at Lost Lands. Hey ladies, don’t be afraid to propose. Seems like those fellas usually like it.

As Baitbucket fell out of his tent he discovered Sam I Am crashed out in the living room of the Hobo Kamp. She was feral and invasive, like a wild hog. It was right around the time the Mexican ballerina crept from Cody’s van. There were rumors that she’d tried to start a fire at Camp Titty Kitty with pine cones and straw. Yes, she was the drunk pooba rolling around in the dirt like a sloppy monkey. When she said she was going for the juggler, she meant the jugular. Words mean things. Sam woke up ready to go clubbing, which meant she was ripe to find the big man from the night before, club him with a bat and drag him home. From then on she would be the Cave Woman and her guttural grunts meant that in order to move him she would need to strap him across the front of Boston’s golf cart like an elk. That wouldn’t be a problem since he’d left his cart parked in the middle of the Kamp Happiness dance floor and bazaar. Handicap parking only bruh.

Josh Skolnik Gallery

Hobo Kamp Pickin’ Tent and Circle K? Trading Post:

The Punkin’ Chunker came early and roped off the space at the original Poncho Tree. It’s important to be flexible to it’s also nice to be home. All of the blinking lights had been groundscored from the same trees last year. The Hobo Kamp boasted live music with Sargent Squander and plenty of the usual thugs left over from Roots Revival, an arts and crafts pavilion for painting signs and faces candy bracelet station. The new Circle K? Trading Post really brought in the high-class wheeler dealers. Similar to a leave one, take one blanket this shoppe remained staffed during operating hours allowing the inventory to include many unusual, high-quality items. On Montage Mountain, the Iceman’s eyes got real big when they found Wook Command operating a similar blanket at Peach Fest. No ma’am, this is not self-checkout. Call me Marvelous Marvin cause we are doin’ some Hagglin’. You say hi, I say low. Merchandise additions included a skull beer bong, Mexican light sabers and a blood doctor from Jackson Hole. Loose whippets, cash and cigarettes? Look ever closer folks, there’s surely something for everyone. At some point the yen was traded for pesos and a legitimate currency exchange was born. Look for the bodega at your next festival. It’s a welcome respite for both looters and loiterers. They still hadn’t come up with a way to make money in the lot, but this was certainly a curious step in a lateral direction and he’d been able to trade Trinket for a Hulaweenie pin from Josh and Jess at Mi Kulture.

Mucho gusto to the Alley Cat who brought the megaphone to the trading post at about sunrise. She and Baitbucket both sounded like Tom Waits by and it was a necessary tool in spreading their testimonial to the sleeping patrons of the Farm Field. She was lucky not to destroy the bluegrass cajon after her parachute failed to deploy. He he, ho ho, ha ha. They found each other somewhere near A Bazaar Universe directly after the Twiddle show as he was being accosted by gigantic babies in sumo suits. At this point the daily notes become illegible. There’s a season to whither and a season to fertilize.

Emma was on her way to the Disco Biscuits set when she hit the Frick Frack table yet again. Gambling can be a serious addiction, especially when entire  briefcases of dildos are at stake. Bucket considered how much bat guano it would take to win a gently used soul. Dangerous eyes peered from the forest as the briefcase of souls moved along the trail. Don’t make bedfellows of conjecture and speculation. Loose lips sink ships bro.

No Wook Fishing!

Hunting for sport had become subordinate to environmental stewardship. Mainly, they didn’t engage in wook fishing because their own pond was plenty overstocked. Suwannee is a preserve that supports the filet and release of legal sized wooks in season. In any case, Sargent Squander fell into so many wook traps during the day and night he would likely have to gnaw his foot off at some point just to limp back to camp.

Naturally, they wanted to hang out with the Free Range Strange crowd back there with Kent, Stephanie and the Sargent but they were all camped way out in Pasco County and nobody was looking to change flights in Atlanta. That was 80 Acres and out there there really was no law to speak of. The woodland folk were still trading with beads and shells. They would have to get by on their wits this weekend and it they decided to venture into the city, a rendezvous would be be in the books. For the love of all that’s holy, they needed Sunnie’s voice. All of there voices together sounded like a pack of honey badgers with esophageal cancer.

The usual group of VIP festival hounds showed up from the mountains. Thanks to Dirt track and Cambone for the brews and art supplies. The senior consultant was working the entire weekend and noticeably absent from the late night strategy sessions. How about the human traffic cone and Mr. Beautiful? Hustlers gotta hustle.

Aaron Bradley Gallery

The early morning silence was broken by the cracking of the kangaroo whip and Tamiami Sammy’s train whistle calling those interested in the girl who liked Michigan drywall. Don’t get stuck standing alone at the station. Midday would find JBfly and Tenderfoot at the Mottle Tuttle rabbit hole bluegrass dance party on the field stage. One pill makes you smaller.

JRAD Sumday and the dance of the hippies to the left of the soundboard, in what Thatcher Owen Mullins would call “the sweet spot”. Tuning Jam-Estimated Prophet-The Wheel-I need a Miracle-Dancing in the Street-Scarlet Begonias-He’s Gone-The Other One-Cryptical Envelopment-Fearless (intro chords)-I know you Rider-Werewolves of London. Afternoon Dead tunes just to make everything right. That math checks out.

As part of his doctorate thesis, Tenderfoot came up with his research question and was ready to collect some original data via small focus groups. How many squirrels would it take to have a struggle snuggle with a raccoon? Surprise sex? Research and Development is crunching the numbers as we speak. Stay tuned to wook wranglers and other peer-reviewed journals for conclusions. Next up, “How many times have you been kicked off a go-cart track?”

Jay Strausser Gallery

Bloody Sunday into Slutty Monday:

At some point security protocols broke down and a chink in the armor allowed Ka’oli and Blancita to invade the compound, shooting glasses and all. Who shows up for Hulaween on Sunday? They’d arrived from Ginny Springs with cigarettes and guitars and were welcomed with open arms. They’d managed to keep the vodka locked in the safe until Sunday when it could be brought out to create bloodys with “Church”. They still had ice and bloody Marys for Sunday gospel breakdown which was, to say the least, pretty upscale for this crowd. Fortunately, the fire ban meant that the Doritos could be eaten rather than be used as fire starter.

Sargent Squander’s tongue was yellow and bloated. Racked down both sides making his voice sound like a the tearing of an old rag. The avocado he was saving for later turned into pocket guacamole but he finally got his bag of cereal with kitty milk after all. Everything was on cruise control until he replaced the saline solution with glitter glue.The Cave Woman had bloody scrapes on her legs and had not slept for more than three hours in six days. She had long since ceased to make a dollop of sense.

Considering the types of ridiculous thugs they were known to hang out with, protocols had been put in place in case anyone got thrown out for reckless golf cart piloting. A staple in years past, plan B was to head to Asheville for Billyween and plan C was Widespread in Savannah.

Thanks to everyone who contributed food for the masses and helped keep the wooks alive. The camp was surrounded on all sides by bad assery. A week after the party, the sandalwood had worn off and Baitbucket’s beard and hair once again smelled like a wet boxing towel.

Visit the lineup drops from Backwoods and FloydFest for the upcoming year of slick looking shows. What else do you have to do? Might as well, might as well. Look for the wranglers as you lurk about the greasy side of town.

Jason Nail Gallery

Thanks to everyone who helped it come together. Much love to the photographers who contributed to the article. Jaime, the girl who makes the whole festival better and the wook wranglers media and visual arts team. The check’s in the mail. Remember the security team that kept everyone moving through the gates in a safe and comfortable way and created a chill vibe for the entire weekend. Creating a safe space and helping keep hippies out of jail. All hail Pablo for the bear grease and the lavender leave-in conditioner. Come to find, it really adheres to sand after one has fallen asleep in a refuse pile with beer cans for pillows. Thanks to the Hulaween media team for allowing the wranglers to be party to the silly fun. Visit their website and like their social media channels on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. Space isn’t real.

For some, Hulaween is a little big and crazy but once you see it all working together, the orchestration is precise. For a girl who’d visited SOSMP since seeing Tony Rice in 2002, Lucienda had held on to most of the friends she’d met there and from within this party, she once again found her way back into the pocket. That sweet spot where time slows down to the singularity. The opposite of paranoid where everyone all of a sudden becomes perfectly sweet and lovely. To use the word “heady” is a bit gauche, but that’s the triple truth Ruth. The forest revealed itself in a cocoon of safety. Safety from abuse, neglect, theft, whatever. Of course there were outlying reports but they were few and far between in the snow globe of positive, engaging, experiences. Well worth the four days of sweaty chills you’ll be dealing with afterwards. As of Wednesday morning it was time to find some jumper cables, get juiced and like Keith Richards said, “Walk before they make us run”.

This was the fifth Hula for Kamp Happiness and the wranglers and the first year as part of the media team. Thanks to Emma for figuring out how to turn off the flash on the waterproof camera. It’s good to work with professionals. Baibucket made it to the pit several times during the weekend and got great photographs and the media lanyard turned out to be one of the sickest ever, thanks to David from Summer Camp and his gifted golden stealie shovel. To the extent that during JRAD Baitbucket was ejected from the photo pit under the charge that he was using an expired photo tag. He had no voice as they stood against a monster bass speaker. Nonverbal communication is real. There is indeed, a season for everything and yes Virginia, there is a Non-verbal Clause.

Who knew it was possible for a festival to be free of heartbreaks like long lines, rampant theft and assorted party penalties. For everyone who attended, it was truly practice made perfect and the scum line was high. The pilot had been lit on Baitbucket’s Love Light and he was good to go. High science indeed. For everyone that was involved, be proud of the effort put forth and class demonstrated. The neat piles of trash were a far cry from the higgly-piggly leftovers strewn about the fields only a few years ago. Evolution of the species. It was absolutely heady and ridiculously high science. Next year marks the tenth anniversary of Hulaween and if this festival continues to climb the ladder, at some point the entire spectacle is liable to disappear in a poof of smoke. Put Hulaween on your list of non-negotiables and be wary of nebulous pronouns. Tightening the screws on life. See you next year.

believe what you want.                                                                                                                 namaste y’all…