The Okeechobee Music Festival is in its second year. Without a doubt the biggest difference between last year is the level they lifted the day vibe, specifically near the beach and community Chobeewobee village.
It’s next level unbelievably dope.
The following is a mash-up stream of consciousness giving life to this scene.
The air filled with Asian bells as all ages transcended time and space in an acrobatic yogi Sunshine grove. Tibetan flags of grace flew underneath the healing fingers of massaged tenderness, as chimes rang off a steady lake breeze. A grove fit for 30,000 Bodhisattva, geared up, heady as fuck, painted neon Indians spread across gardens of blooming melodies.
Ancient frankincense rituals mixed with the cleansing of yesterday and the anticipation of the evening.
Never before passages of youth bursting with color and blissful vending, across a universe of dogma and interconnection. We’re shopping for you. Stopping for you. Smiling for you.
Dancing for you.
Waiting for you.
A currency of rosy cheeks on a winter’s breeze in the middle of a swamp. Shakedown street is the heart of town. Cipher complete. Designed with precision and love. Every fabric known to human kind. One mind.
A luscious tea lounge of movable type, mad hatters hanging off hammocks and webs, exploding electric spiders, Funk Buddha and the Bonsai lab. ATLians and the 305 on the I-4 corridor.
Genders never been blurrier. Dusty burning man. Blown out king Corona, so beautiful, never felt more gay than today. Saturday is the Saturday. 5 days of work / one whole day to play.
More tattoos than Fantasy Island.
The beach is so lit.
Every nook and comfortable cranny.
Bring your kids and yo Nanny, we good Mommy, don’t worry.
Ra ra like a Trumped up Dragon.
Yo where you get them Bart Simpson daisy dukes.
On the Ferris wheel of your dreams.
Make a kid go loopy loop.
Which stage what stage that stage. No.
Lol, lmao, lmk, jk, nbd, omg, nvm,
omw, btw, gtg, ily, bae.
Be. Here. Now.