Comfest is Debauched and Depraved

When the sun is highest in the sky in the summer, the ancient venal ritual of solstice lechery is still celebrated by the lascivious patrons of Columbus’ Comfest.  Comfest, or Community Festival, has very few redeeming qualities.  The music, restricted to local jam bands who take 3-minute Grateful Dead songs and turn them into 18-minute drones, leaves something to be desired – namely: originality.  If people aren’t coming for the music, then what is it?  It seems that human beings have an insatiable desire to pack on top of one another in massive hordes.  Wherever there are people gathering, you can damn well guarantee more people will gather – it’s the herd instinct.  There was beer though, but I first had to navigate the beer line.  Instead of a simple wristband, Comfest sells tokens for their beer, and by the time I was swindled by their shell game, I found I’d paid $11 for 32 ounces of Labatt Blue.  Eleven dollars for beer made by Canadians.  With my wallet a little lighter, I turned around to see droves of alt-bro hipsters and post-hippie young professionals swarming in the muddy grass, looking vaguely confused as to why they are there, why they are anywhere.  Time to find some shade.  Under the trees I found an impromptu gathering of Juggalos and was forced to move after they started spraying Faygo all over everyone.  After finishing my beer and slithering through throngs of aimless bare-breasted women and androgynous flamboyantes , I decided I’d had enough.  Walking back up High Street toward my car, I witnessed a man being brutally beaten by three other men.  He was trying to defend himself with a pair of Timberland boots.  I closed my eyes and thought ‘there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home,’ and before I knew it, I was back on the gritty streets of Dayton, where I found I could breathe again.


walk on by

looking away

as she passes

 

another day another

bat of the lashes

 

the music fades, departs

her eye evades and darts

 

the blind eye sees all

from creation to the fall

 

on top for now

and can’t fathom how

 

the vigor soon withers

with slant stares and shivers

 

today no word or gesture

will she turn around for

 

until youth festers

and beauty gets sore