The first weekend of Coachella is just a few days away, and, for the 17th year in a row, aka as-many-years-as-it’s-been-in-exisitence, I am not going. (Though I think I can get a pass on the first ten ’cause I didn’t even know about it then.) This is a funny thing because I’m dressing as though I were going. And I would LOVE to. This is sounding increasingly sad. But don’t cry for me Argentina, or LA, or wherever you’re situated while you read my stream of consciousness, I’m happy and grateful to be wearing a romper in the city of angels. I’ll be getting my Coachella fix via KCRW and blogs like The Blonde Salad. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll manage a desert moment before it’s all said and done.