Tuesday, July 17, 2018

Invihash 2018

I thought long and hard about how to, or if I should, write a trash for an event which I 0.0'd, since most of trashing is a story of the trail, and the shenangins around it.

Then, I found inspiration by a quote from O'Bone'R

"Invihash peaked on Saturday morning, when Krusty put his dick in the sandwich"

Which immidetialy recalled to me:


Which I edited to be:

Strange memories on this nervous morning in the hash.

Has it been 5 days, 10? It seems like a lifetime

The kind of peak that never comes again.
Invihash, on Saturday morning, was a very special time and place to be alive.

But no explanation, no mix of rage, or songs or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there, and alive in that corner of time in the world, whatever it meant.

There were hashers in every direction, and any hour you could rage anywhere
There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was true.
That we were hashers.

And that i think, was the handle; that sense of inevitable rage at the forces of drab normality, not in any lude or drunken sense, we didn’t need that.

Our rage would simply prevail.
We had all the momentum.
We were riding the crest of a high a beautiful rage.

So now, less than 5 days later you can go out to a field and look north, and with the right kind of eyes, you can almost see the high-water mark.

The place were the rage finally broke, and Krusty fucked a sandwich.

-Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
(Edited by Wiki)

On - the kind of rage which never comes again - On

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