Sean Parker
BA (Hons) Illustration
London College of Communication
(+44) 07985 773109


Benicassim 2008

right. well, i've been back a while, but i have only just been able to find my macbook under the sedimentary layers of vestements strewn about my room. it's a shame i wasn't able to post my thoughts about the experience a lot earlier, because i have forgotten most of them now. the least i can do is piece together a sketchy amalgam of the festival....

we arrive at 11.30pm on tuesday night at benicamp, and pitch up in the car park, thinking that this was an ideal spot because of the lack of other campers. we proceed to get fucked and stagger around the campsite befriending northerners. we wake up at 8am, involuntarily, mind. the ruthless sun attacks the ground with rays of golden torture. we then realise why there is a lack of other campers; the heat has obviously melted both them and their belongings and they have been soaked into the ground, which is not too dissimilar to a quarry.

the subsequent two days consist of sprawling ourselves on the beach and frequenting the insanely cheap supermercados, which are constantly rammed with louts running about cradling beer and baguettes like their own offspring. outside the pedestrianised motorways, gangs of wilting youths, sporting comedy hats and aviators (and not much else) circle their wagons. what then follows can only be described as savoury mayhem. cheese, chorizo, chutney, countless other ch- foods all being sliced, diced and pureed. it's like watching ready steady cook with a bunch of kids with ADHD.

the beach is perfect. like faye dunaway holding a double barrell shotgun to warren beatty's loaf. except the sand is hotter than the sun itself. but apart from that, perfect. planes of caramel pulled taut along the flapping blue. cultured bathers refute bikini tops for the all-over tan, while michael jackson impersonators cower beneath octagonal oasis.

will update when i can be arsed.

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