Posted by: stephilepsy | April 30, 2011

The Drum Circle Game

Drum circles are odious. There. I said it.

You’ve all been thinking it. I know you have.

Haven’t you?

I have vivid Hippie College memories of being woken at 2 a.m. Monday morning by what can best be described as a rhythmic war-like thunder, pounding its way beneath my window.

I, having been awoken from much-needed beauty sleep, thus began an early, frightfully early, start to my day.

“What the hell is that?” I asked myself. “Are the Aborigines finally invading?”

Sadly, they were not.

After this had occurred a couple of times, I began to recognize it for what it was: a cruel form of torture perpetrated by nocturnals who took tremendous glee in the fact that this would have me sleepwalking through my nine o’clock class.

Those bastards.

I know this to be true because I participated in a drum circle once. It was awful. You have to try to follow everyone’s rhythm whilst clutching a terribly heavy drum. Oddly, even though it’s impossible to stay awake when there is a drum circle outside of one’s window in the early morning hours, when I was actually inside one, I felt as if I pass out at any moment.

No, I was not high.

No, I do not feel the need to repeat this experience and give drum circles one more try. As out esteemed (I’m told he is esteem by people other than myself) former president Ronald Reagan once said, “Seen one drum circle, seen ’em all.”

Instead, I take comfort in the certainty that whomever invented the bongos died friendless and alone.


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