Intents
Last night Andreas DJed at a gathering called “Intents.” Eli came down from Seattle, but none of us were really all that interested in going to the party, even though friends of ours were throwing it. The event had been thrown together at the last minute, it was a “free outdoor event” on a rainy Friday night, and it was in Matlock, Washington. You know…Matlock? It’s about 35 miles northwest of Olympia? Naw, I’d never heard of it either, but I guess someone owns some property out there, and let this little mini-hippy rave happen.

“I just can’t get it up for this party,” I explained as we made a U-Turn in Shelton, realizing we’d missed our exit. “This is definitely a courtesy fuck.”

We showed up around midnight and…Holy shit: Is that a party?! There was a huge tent set up, complete with carpetting and a big propane heater inside, and it was packed with happy dancing hippies! How did this happen? Everyone was having a great time. It was then that I got the name of the party: Intents, get it? As in the party had intents, was in tents, and was also intense. Clever name, actually. Lots of happy people enjoying the intense intent in the tent…

Except me. I was tired and simply didn’t have the energy to enjoy the party, even upon discovering that it didn’t suck. I spent several hours sleeping in the car, getting up when the cops stopped by briefly (they left without much hassle, reassured that there were no satanic worshipping happening) and I spent the rest of the evening sitting by the heater, drinking homemade chai tea, and watching hippies dance to Andreas’ tech house (which I enjoyed again! This is quite unprecedented). It was neat to see the start of a little Olympia dance collective along the lines of Moontribe in LA or the full moon crew in Santa Cruz, but I was keenly aware that I am not in a community building era of my life. I’ve spent the last four years working my ass of to cultivate the national dance community, and I’m tired. I’m more into cultivating myself than a collective. But it was neat to see the seeds of one beginning, and maybe I’ll have energy to contribute to it some day.

After Dre’s set, we made the drive home at 4:30. It’s funny how if you got 10 minutes east from our house you are in Olympia, with hippies, indy rockers, college kids, etc…but if you go 10 minutes the other way, you’re almost in Shelton, home of large American sedans carrying men in John Deere hats, gun racks, beaten wives, and malnourished children, home of many out-of-work third generation loggers, an city where the AM/PM is the cultural center of town. I’ll take Oly, shanks.