I went to Bakkus’ one-year birthday celebration. I was to help with the decorations and set up a kissing booth.
I got there late, seeing as there was a woman in my bed when I woke up. The party started at four but I was too fucked from the previous night to start drinking. Instead, I went to the pricey Sushismiðjan and got vegetable sushi sans cheese and egg cake. Every time I go there they screw up my order at least twice. If this had been in Amerikkka the meal would’ve been free. Nice people though.
Then I decided to try out the veggie burger at Hamborgarabúllan. It was really good, but it was definitely missing something. It was still better than the food at Á Næstu Grösum. I got tired of their bland tasting food and partially cooked rice a long time ago.
When I got back Einar Sonic was playing his usual set of crowd-pleasing post-punk. Bakkus was giving away loads of free beer and whale meat. There was fish stew from Ísafjörður on offer and free face painting. No bouncy castle though. It was like a less exhausting version of Eistnaflug or a Gathering of the Juggalos minus the meth.
I think I kissed around fifteen people that night. At least four of them were women. Some even came for seconds. One pervert wanted one for free. Felt dirty at first, but then got used to it. I’m thinking about prostituting myself full time if this writing thing doesn’t work out.
A lot of people lost more than their minds that night. I lost my sunglasses and, thanks to Bob Cluness, my innocence. I didn’t see that many regulars as I thought I would. They were probably camping or at a touristcore concert.
Fist Fokkers created a mini-mosh on the Astroturf. Reykjavík!-lite fucked with people’s heads a la Flipper or free jazz-era Black Flag. Afterwards there was a dance performance with contact mic scribbles by Slack9Bricks. Mr. Silla played next. She’s by far one of the most sincere performers I’ve ever seen.
Later on DJ Musician set the roof on fire and Quadruplos brought the ruckus to the ladies. Fell in love with those guys when I saw them play at Crymó Gallerí.
There was a helium tank in the kissing booth. A lot of people got some shots of helium as well as a kiss. Outside I found a three-joint weed circle. I was very surprised to see a certain artist there. She still hasn’t introduced herself to me. I’ve come to learn in my two years here that almost everybody here is high on something, and that I should stop being surprised when I see the most unlikely person snorting in the bathroom. I’ve also come to learn that everybody here has fucked each other.
Other than everybody feigning surprise at me rolling in the fake grass, this night is up there with Airwaves ’08 and Eistnaflug ’10. Afterwards a girl told me that somebody had peed on it during a performance. Still have to confirm that.
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