The first year I moved here I bought tickets to Coachella because it was the Jane’s Addition reunion tour. When the weekend finally rolled around (it’s a weekend in the desert with like, eighty bands), I realized something important: I was too old for a weekend festival. The thought of going and sleeping in a tent and getting dehydrated and paying for seven dollar bottles of water was exhausting. I sold my tickets to a friend who went and loved it.

Last year the same thing. Beastie Boys. I wanted to see the bands, but I didn’t want to suffer the concert. My friend went and rented a nearby condo. I guess if you’ve got that kind of disposable income, but I don’t. So we skipped Coachella again.

This year it’s going to be Radiohead and the Pixies. The Pixies.

The Pixies.

I don’t know. I want to want to go to this. But I don’t know if I can want enough to want to go. Because when I skipped Jane’s that other year, they played the Hollywood Bowl two months later. And I figure Frank Black and Kim Deal want all the money they can get, so I bet The Pixies will do a real tour. And I’ve already seen Radiohead three times.

You kids get off my lawn! And keep it down! My knees hurt!

Aw, man.

[Thanks, Scott, for the link, and for sending me into an shame spiral]