Re: Bit and Pieces
Here is the translation:
The festival life is the lifeline - but next year I'll live in a caravan
by Rebecka Liljeberg
Hultsfred, SVD
I think I've become too old for Hultsfred, you see this year for the first
time I've seen more than two bands. I've also gone to sleep around one each
night and showered at least once. Standing during all the concerts is a bit
tiresome and I long for my bed.
As usual, I'm walking around watching all the people, but I've stopped
admiring and started to wonder. There is some kind of conflict within me, I
think it is grown-up life creeping in and silently telling me my interest in
this all senses devastating festival life is beginning to fade.
I never thought it would happen, just like when I was little I couldn't
understand why mother didn't buy Lego for most of her pay check.
It's not cozy here like last year, despite having more money and living in a
fantastic military tent placed perfectly right in the middle of the camping.
Now I'm tired, the Weezer concert I'm looking forward to, but then most of
all I want to go home. Beer breakfast no longer tempts me; waking up in the
wrong tent after a wild night has lost its charm.
No, I want to sleep softly, drink some wine and play family games. But I
know what will happen; it will not take long before decadence comes creeping
back and the urge to live rock star life again becomes too strong. I think I
have to stand it still a little while, it is too early and too scary to be a
grown-up.
The frustration is huge, I don't know where to turn, this is almost worse
than puberty. I just don't dare, and then the festival life is there like a
lifeline for my youth to cling on to, still some time, yes a few years at
least.
At the Hultsfred festival I find nothing of what I really need; sleep, peace
and quiet. But so much of what I really want. Music, great friends and just
the right amount of alcohol.
I suppose I'll come here again, but next year I'll live in a caravan.
Translated from Swedish by Anders Berg
The festival life is the lifeline - but next year I'll live in a caravan
by Rebecka Liljeberg
Hultsfred, SVD
I think I've become too old for Hultsfred, you see this year for the first
time I've seen more than two bands. I've also gone to sleep around one each
night and showered at least once. Standing during all the concerts is a bit
tiresome and I long for my bed.
As usual, I'm walking around watching all the people, but I've stopped
admiring and started to wonder. There is some kind of conflict within me, I
think it is grown-up life creeping in and silently telling me my interest in
this all senses devastating festival life is beginning to fade.
I never thought it would happen, just like when I was little I couldn't
understand why mother didn't buy Lego for most of her pay check.
It's not cozy here like last year, despite having more money and living in a
fantastic military tent placed perfectly right in the middle of the camping.
Now I'm tired, the Weezer concert I'm looking forward to, but then most of
all I want to go home. Beer breakfast no longer tempts me; waking up in the
wrong tent after a wild night has lost its charm.
No, I want to sleep softly, drink some wine and play family games. But I
know what will happen; it will not take long before decadence comes creeping
back and the urge to live rock star life again becomes too strong. I think I
have to stand it still a little while, it is too early and too scary to be a
grown-up.
The frustration is huge, I don't know where to turn, this is almost worse
than puberty. I just don't dare, and then the festival life is there like a
lifeline for my youth to cling on to, still some time, yes a few years at
least.
At the Hultsfred festival I find nothing of what I really need; sleep, peace
and quiet. But so much of what I really want. Music, great friends and just
the right amount of alcohol.
I suppose I'll come here again, but next year I'll live in a caravan.
Translated from Swedish by Anders Berg