Madness. A muddy farm covered with 500 people selling and using drugs while Chuck, a tall, bearded man of 50 years, stands on a tractor, crazily plowing around their campsites. Oh, and he's carrying a plastic cup and a gasoline canister while he does it and asking everyone not to drive onto his squash. It's a music festival (sort of) but it's free and no one really cares about the bands. Kids walk around openly doing wip-its and selling mushrooms out of vans.
Richard, my friend eloquently postured on his 1988 Volks Wagon, made in Brazil, managed to be the craziest person that I saw the whole time. And I'm pretty used to his tricks.
I haven't seen this sweater since last March. It's a straight forward tweedy looking blue, gold, black and maroon pullover.