Chicago Festival Review: Seward Park Crack Fest 2011

This summer festival totally flew under the radar, but it was a smashing success.  What this festival lacked in turnout, concessions, music, kid’s entertainment, officialdom, food or beverage, it totally made up for in solid attendance by myriad crackheads.  When I took Scout to the park on Sunday night to sniff at the ground and roll in goose shit, the party was still raging at 9:30.  As far as the eye could see crack heads were dancing by themselves in shadowy corners of the park, singing Michael Jackson diddies out of key, and giving the moon a stern talking-to.  The Jumbos that the Candyman was selling this weekend must have been the shiznit!  There was one couple in between the bushes, on the ground, trying to fight.  It sounded like some lost language had been unearthed; only these two beautiful souls understood it.  Given what I could decipher from contextual clues, it would seem the gentleman had spent the last of the treasure chest on something frivolous, like food, and the young lass was none-too-pleased about how this tangible foodstuff had directly reduced the supply of consumable crack rock.  Some swings were had, but land they did not.  Perhaps I misunderstood, and this was actually some avant-garde theater in the park production of Julius Caesar.  Either way the fight eventually moved into a better lit area where our star-crossed Romeo & Juliet of Freebase continued to fight disjointedly and with unnecessary bodily convulsions until the gentleman began an interpretive dance and quit paying attention to the increasingly agitated young lady.  Sensing that she’d lost her audience, she took her goddamned roller-suitcase and stormed into the middle of traffic in Division street.  As she walked down the center of the street shouting to no one, she left the festival with one last piece of eternal wisdom, “Mutherfucker done put in what they taked out!  Fuck you Sheryl, I telled them mutherfuckers anyway!”.  Words which ring true now, and throughout perpetuity my friends.  The festival had been too much for one reveler, seen above having a siesta next to the Seward Park fountain.  And who amongst us has not consumed too much funnel cakes and crack and passed out next to a fountain on a hot summer’s night?  Come one, come all to Seward Park Crack Fest 2012, it will not disappoint!

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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2 Responses to Chicago Festival Review: Seward Park Crack Fest 2011

  1. Anonymous says:

    Is there a better place to raise our daughter than across the street from this park? She'll be hundreds of cultured.

  2. Not a better place in the world. She'll be way ahead of the curve if she ever makes it to a suburb.

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