The Marijuana Music Awards

Somethings,
you just have to do.

Especially if people
are counting on you,
supporting you,
in your effort to
live a crazy life
and tell fun stories about it.

So,
when I was asked to
go perform at the Marijuana
Music Awards,
I knew I had to.

Even if I didn't want to,
if I knew it might be a bust,
I still had to go.

and so I did.

and so it was.

a bust.

but not entirely.

As far as fun,
crazy, interesting
experience for the purpose
of telling fun stories,
it was a roaring success.

Where do I begin?

well,
I had to leave for my flight at 5 am.

I stayed up,
with a lady,
until three.

When my alarm went
off at four am,
I was naked in a warm
bed with a warm naked lady.

I hit snooze until five.

shit.

It's five!

I rushed around,
and made it out to the car
by five forty five,
plus forty five minutes
to drive, plus parking,
plus, walking, check in,
for a seven am flight.

A connecting flight,
one-stop.

I missed it,
but caught stand by
on a direct flight,
that got me to NY City
an hour ahead of schedule.

So far,
not a bad start.

I landed in NY,
took a bus,
three trains,
and a short walk,
to the biggest outdoor
venue I've seen in a long time.

The Beastie Boys played there
last summer, just to give you an idea.

There were...
maybe fifty people there.

And one of them was a midget.

A real, midget.

The concert was supposed to
start at noon, and go until seven thirty.

I showed up at twelve thirty,
and the sound system was not
yet set up.

You must keep in mind,
this is a concert organized,
and run, by pot heads.

And....
the bands were all pot heads.

You can see a little
sloppiness in the picture, no?

I have never seen a sound system
get set up so slowly,
by three thirty,
there were still mics
just sitting on the side of the stage.

God,
there is almost too much to tell you.

I'll fast forward.

I met two rappers from Baltimore,
real black guys,
and they were my friends all day.

They smoked me out with a blunt.

I smoked a blunt,
in Brooklyn,
with two rappers,
real ones.

They were great,
they're called the Unstopable Knuckleheads.

I took them out for lunch,
the best fucking potatoes
I have ever tasted.

We started drinking.

We kept drinking,
the show was still not starting.

Seventy five pot heads
roaming around in a concert
venue that can hold 6,000 people.

Jamaicans, Haitians,
dudes from Memphis,
rappers, little sexy stoner girls,
a funk band with an old black dude on bass.

"that's Mr. Wendell..."
(joked pete to the rapper)

"nah.. man, that's James Brown's
bass player...."
(joked the rapper back to pete)

ha ha ha

Turns out,
it was James Brown's
bass player.

He's a pot head, too.

There were a lot of great bands,
and we all got to play.. maybe two songs.

We travelled from all over the country,
just to come to a marijuana music awards
show that we knew nothing about.

We were all cut from that same
sort of cloth, we are driven
to live on a whim, and we had
to take this chance.

Needless to say,
it was a blast.

A very bizarre,
silly, drunken, blast
where everyone was high,
and easy going.

And even when everything
was completely fucked up,
nobody cared or complained.

I rocked out one song,
and I gave it all I had.

I pulled out every trick
I knew in four minutes,
and soon enough,
I was playing the bridge
of the bush song with some
dude from Memphis on drums,
and a guy dressed as an alien
ripping a guitar solo.

funny.

I was cracked out
on coffee, no sleep,
lot's of sex, pot, and czech beer.

But I was happy as a clam.

Me and my rapper buddies
explored the park, told jokes,
met adorable girls on bicycles,
and everything was great.

And every so often,
as I was accepting the situation,
and thinking, "well.. this isn't so weird"

I would look around,
and see the midget.

rocking out with a
Haitian dude in dred locks.

----

I had to stay up all day and night
until my flight at six am.

Another connecting flight.
One stop in Philadelphia.

I found a bar,
at midnight,
and stayed until four.

I made friends with
the owners,
and they host live music.

So I'm gonna play there
the next time I'm in NY.

When I stumbled into the airport
after a ridiculously long, long, day,
my connecting flight was delayed.

and
I caught standby on a direct.

-p