1919 n clybourn

It's one of those days.
You walk to work in the pouring rain. You're still on edge about the visa application you fucked up. You leave work for the very last time. You go to your last banjo lesson and break down sobbing. You go home, eat half of a large pizza with your roommate while watching Project Runway, trying to forget that pesky Mumford & Sons concert currently going on that you were not able to get tickets to. But you go to CVS and buy camping supplies, because this weekend is the weekend where you don't have to feel bad about not going to the concert. Or think about how you may have potentially fucked up your future. Or forget about all the goodbyes that you have to prepare for in the coming week. You just need to get drunk, in the middle of nowhere, Illinois, with a bunch of other people, rocking out to a simple folk band from London.