A Perfect Mess

My car has always been covered in stickers. Always. Since I was 17 and drove a big nasty 1984 Monte Carlo. My car has always been a flag to my love of music and pretty much ensured I could never commit any major crimes with my car because I'm pretty easy to find. So I'm sitting in traffic in sleepy Northern New Jersey yesterday. I drive a really bitchy twelve year old Volkswagen so I have to go two towns over to buy better gas or she runs like garbage. There is a nasty intersection that no one ever seems to comprehend the traffic pattern of (also known as "most of New Jersey"), so I am usually watching the cars around me in preparation for one of them to drive into me, and I happened to glance to my right. The dude in the car next to me is having a get down moment at the wheel, smiling like its the greatest day ever, and motioning to the back of my car. I roll down my passenger side window, and he rolls down his. I have no idea what this guy wants. He points to the

I swear the further down this jam scene rabbit hole I fall, the more I am discovering things that I never even knew I liked. There is so much to discover once you step outside your comfort zone and it seems the further I wander from that zone, the more open my mind is to sounds, vibes, and audible journeys in general. There is just so much to discover. I have not gotten to see much of it live yet, but that is something I am working to remedy as much as possible this summer. I am delving into festivals. I am told there is no better way to truly experience this scene until you live it for a few days. For a girl used to dark and dirty New York City clubs for her music fix, this is a daunting yet deliciously exciting prospect. More on that later. I don't want to talk about camping. Let's talk about The Werks. Normal reviews will go into how these gents come from the great state of Ohio and are inspired by yada yada yada and I just don't really do that. Let's instead ta