Most festival goers are just there for the party, I know, and some for the experience, while a few are seeking something spirited and meaningful and liberating.

Your life is your life, don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission… etc.

Older Daughter says she’s “just trying to accept that I’ve got three more days of this.” I think that’s the sunburn and travel fatigue talking, but she’s usually not one for Greek-style party mysticism. Jennifer Hecht has interesting thoughts on all this.

We first-world moderns are not like everybody else. Historically the average person expected to be a little miserable most of the time, and ecstatic on festival days. We now expect to be happy all the time, but never riutously so.

I usually expect to be happy while walking around looking at stuff and thinking about things, or not. It definitely looks to me like there’s plenty to walk around and gawk at the ‘roo-fest. I should go. Can any of my music friends get me backstage to see Paul? He should still remember a thing or two about manic ecstasy.