the monday after.

Coachella has officially been experienced.
To the fullest.
The stealth sneaking onto other hotels shuttles.
The hanging out with Beyonce and Jay-Z.
The inhalation of more secondhand pot than in a lifetime.
The overwhelming feeling of either self-rightous hipness or self-concious inferiority of being swallowed by what looks like a gigantic american apparel ad.
The 1 am Denny's run because all the food inside the venue costs an arm and a leg.
The sketchy Motel 6 who gives you a trashed room, leaves the door open after cleaning it, and shakes all night long due to people walking by.
The pain and suffering of standing hours in the heat, sweat, and smoke yet all of it becoming completely irrelevant when the music starts.
oh yeah the music.
It would take too long to describe it all. highlightz:
Passion Pit.
LCD Soundsytem.
Vampire Weekend (though a bit TOO good. trackz.)
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.
the XX.
MGMT. (I'm sorry what everyone says they ARE good live.)
our dear Local Natives. I feel like a proud mother.
Julian Casablancas. (O.M.G.)
Jonsi (Who is actually probably not a real human being we decided)
Phoenix (biggest dance party ever.)
and the one and only Thom Yorke. His bearded jumping bean dancing could melt the coldest heart.

Thank God for Coachella.

P.s. the drive home was literally the valley of the shadow of DEATH.