At 2 am I swipe my card to get into m dorm. I open my door, fumbling the keys in spite of my efforts to be quiet, though my roommate sleeps pretty solidly. My shampoo, conditioner, and unreal amounts of doctor bronner’s tumble into my arms as I go to take my shower. Other people talk quietly in the halls of Griffin Dorm. I slip out of my overalls and, well, that’s all I’m wearing apart from my underwear. The tiedye around my ass is still wet from running through the sprinklers, and my black bra was the only semblance of conformity left. I washed the dance party out of my hair, and the Noize Parade off of my skin.
Every night here has been intense. But August 26th, 2011 takes the cake so far. I wandered back to my dorm as the sun was setting, thinking I’d have some downtime. Gracie was with me when we ran into Tildy, our friendly HA. She mentioned that maybe we should be in the quad, maybe we should grab some pots and pans… maybe right now. So we did. And there was the noise parade.
Some people were naked, some people were half naked, most people sparkled somewhere, by their own choice or by contamination. I was underdressed, I could tell, my grey and black hardly meshing with the rainbow of hedonists running around. So I slipped out of my shorts, and skipped through the crowd with rainbow underwear banging on a pot while people around me manipulated vuvuzelas and trombones and tambourines and kazoos to make the biggest fucking racket possible. Then we marched through campus, and the bouncy bridge moved unbelievably beneath my bare feet, with water from the athletic fields dripping down my body. What a blast.
I traded my pot and fork for half a beer, as Torbin wanted to make some noise. Then, as I danced to a trio of saxophones, they passed around a huge (albeit largely empty) bottle of rum, or rummish substance. It burned my face, then mouth then throat then stomach. I probably should have made it to dinner before the commons closed.
The people in charge did some sort of ritualistic chanting. What I could make out was roughly “we don’t want to go to trade school” and “Reed will live” and “we will live” and “Homer, Homer, Homer”. There was more Homer chanting once they whipped out a huge facsimile of the Illiad and bowed to it and held it and hit it and basically professed undying love. Homer, Homer, Homer. Like that, but louder.
Then they burned the Illiad, as well as an American Flag. I’m not sure if the flag was on purpose, but the whole time it was burning everyone yelled “USA USA USA” while not making any attempt to extinguish the thing. The moral of Noize Parade is that love and hate are not mutually exclusive.
Then Gracie and I went to the swings, which were occupied, but I was a bit drunk, so I didn’t mind. I couldn’t have swung anyways, that’d be silly, needlessly reckless. Andrew ran into us with a bit of a crew, and as usual we ended up hanging out. We went to my dorm for a bit, he sat in Dertron, and we drank a bit of my Emergency Supply. I put on overalls, but took off my shirt once we decided to go to the dance party. We danced for a bit, but then ended up wandering.
He didn’t know about the pool table though, though I swung him over to the pool dungeon. We played a round, but I don’t remember who won. So he must have. I know the difference was basically nothing, so that to me means scoring a kid to practice with so that neither of us loses too embarrassingly. Yes. After that we rolled over to my car, and my bike, so that I could show off. I played him some tunes, told him we were going to the Gogol Bordello concert, and Jason Webley (I gave him an option for Webley because he’s less of a vital experience, and more of just a BAMF). Then he was sleepy. That’s okay. It was past 1, and noise parade was crazy.
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