Montecito Journal's "District216: The Jacob Tell Overture"

As acid tests go, this could be a paradigm-changer.

Jacob Tell, Psychedelic Seer and District216’s Founder and Chief Dreamer (photo by Chris Jensen)

Jacob Tell wasn’t always a psychonaut plumbing the Mariana Trench of perception. “Remember Reagan’s Just Say No campaign? I was a D.A.R.E. kid. I had the shirt and the pencil and the lunchbox and all the things that they gave us in grade school.” That was then. Sometime later, Tell would embrace the Jungian effects of ego dissolution, see the flimsy barrier between Self and Everything Else dissolve like a weakened meringue, and would fall into the arms of his people. He boils the epiphany down. “The psychedelics communities, ours and others, can help remind us of the power of just sitting in a circle and sharing and talking,” he says; wording that will trigger even the most placid rationalist. “It’s fundamental – a shift in how we think about our place in the world, how we think about society and civilization, and how we think about where we’re headed – and what we have yet to do.”

Cognitive Liberty

District216 – a membership-based “psychedelic social club” – is equal parts community gathering place, info hub, and advocacy group. There are weekly District House Events and quarterly Marquee events that take a scholarly-yet-communally-joyous approach to the expansive ideas intrinsic to the psychedelics movement. The panel discussions, films, and interviews are all offered in the context of thronged fellow-travelers communing with filters down. District216 is a fractal of its immense implications. “We want to help normalize and legalize psychedelic use in our daily lives,” Tell says. “The vision is that we have safe access to these medicines, globally; that we have education supporting them, that we have harm reduction programs in place, that there are regulations where those are needed – but that we all have safe and affordable access to these medicines. We have the right to cognitive liberty.” 

It seems fair to suppose this is not the liberty espoused by the Freedom Lobby as they storm the ramparts. What are the goals? “Consciousness elevation, expansion, reconnecting spiritually with ourselves and our communities…” Okay. These sentiments were firmly bookmarked into our culture back there between the Beats and the Beatles. What happened?

Shroom Boom

A D216 Marquee event: Fireside Chats, Discussion Panels, Live Music, Food, Vendors & Networking (photo by Stephen Lewis Photography)

Magic mushrooms, LSD, psilocybin, mescaline – these randy vitamins tiptoed into American culture in the crew-cut 1950s and were taken up by poets, musicians – and enthusiastic researchers. By the early ‘60s hundreds of papers had been written on LSD’s promise in the realm of mental health care, and the studies continued to proliferate. Meanwhile, the rising youth revolution’s firehose rejection of the previous gen’s value system inspired a manic search for meaning, and the neuro-metaphysics of chemistry sidled into that wheelhouse. By 1970 a steamrolling moral panic had set in, and the hammer came down that year. The new federal Controlled Substances Act classified psychotropics as Schedule I compounds; substances with no currently accepted medical use. In plainer language, they were federally banned.

“Consciousness expansion” had by that time infiltrated the culture. Why hadn’t the revolutionary experiment taken hold? In part because the Establishment had made that whirlwind, self-seeking decade a fugitive enterprise, its detractors snarling about the evils of being stoned, and laying groundwork for criminalization. These Centurions of Clear Thinking would then drive home from work, loosen their collective necktie and start in on the single malt hooch. In this framework, “consciousness expanding” includes two fingers of Glenlivet, neat. Breaking into the twilit room that adjoins this one has been an imaginative and spiritual pursuit for millennia, and in modern times a target of will o’ the wisp policing. 

Therapy Tripping

Tell’s idea that we move measuredly toward a rational and normalized interweaving of psychedelics into the Everyday may sound crazy on its face, but that thinking has, for decades now, been part of a lively social movement; and an arguable component of research. “We’ve just gone through some amazing studies and actually FDA clinical trials, if you can believe it,” Tell says ardently. Data-driven studies on the healing efficacies of psychedelics – from PTSD therapies to depression, and from substance abuse disorders to palliative care for the terminally ill – are avidly underway in literally hundreds of universities around the world; fly-by-night diploma mills with names like Yale, Stanford, UC Berkeley – and of course Catholic University of the Sacred Heart in Milan, Italy. “We’re going to have prescribable MDMA and prescribable psilocybin mushrooms soon,” Tell says. “That’s thanks to the good work that’s been happening on these campuses now for decades.” Through a model of education, filter-free community, and shared purpose, Jacob Tell’s District216 is in a position to rationally help catalyze and organize what’s surely coming. Tell’s brutally corporatist title at D216 prefigures the new world. “My official title is Chief Dreamer.” 

Campus Point

UCSB student Jacob Tell found his “doors of perception” while dabbling at Campus Point; the lovely bluff-and-beach interface that marks the campus’ southernmost Pacific promontory. The young man had sipped a few drinks in high school, but in the category leaving one’s cranium and heading for the spheres, Tell was a babe in the chemical woods. “In college I discovered cannabis and psychedelics – psilocybin mushrooms first, then LSD, MDMA, mescalin…” When he took in a Phish concert, his spiritual aspect ratio went IMAX©. “The experience combined psilocybin mushrooms and that loving community – and that was the watershed. Through the live interaction between the band and the fans … I saw suddenly what was possible, and it was everything. My philosophy in business, in life, in creating things, became YES…AND. It’s what animates the improvisational standup comedian, the musician. YES. It’s about taking the leap and learning how an idea can evolve and become the best idea possible.”

Making Lemonade 

The scales had fallen from Tell’s eyes, but his Road to Damascus would yet feature many switchbacks. In 2001 Tell and Sean Campos founded Oniracom, a Santa Barbara-based webdev outfit that would become a many-faceted, crazily successful creative services agency. Its unlikely origin story is best summarized on their website: “…we started on the road, running merchandise, technology, and fan engagement for incredible musicians, management groups, and record labels. In the upturned faces of crowds across the globe, we saw deep emotional connection…” Oniracom quickly became the go-to for a spate of record labels and artists who saw in the company’s boutique skill sets a way to bridge the gap between artist and fan; that is, to replicate what had so positively shaken Tell at those early psilocybin-tinted concerts. 

“Let us gather at the neocortex.” Participants take in a Wednesday evening District House Event (photo by Stephen Lewis Photography)

“We worked with and alongside all the big bands – and ticketing companies, mailing list systems, hosting platforms. Then streaming and Spotify came along to disrupt the model.” Around that time, Oniracom had begun gathering folks from the local cannabis space, mounting informational and community-enriching symposia. “There was a lot of crossover culturally between music and cannabis,” Tell says. “It wasn’t a huge pivot for us.” 

When the other shoe dropped it was – wait for it – COVID. Oniracom’s beautifully-appointed and multifarious building on Gutierrez Street emptied, their lease a sudden millstone. Tell and co. lithely pivoted to doing live streams of nonprofit galas and any other business gathering hamstrung by the pandemic, and their building soon became a popular and widely used hub for streams, video shoots, photo shoots – and remains so to this day. A germ of an idea that had long been stirring in Tell’s febrile psyche burst to the surface, and District216 was born. 

Today, D216 hosts District House Events on Wednesday evenings at their LoDo Studios space, and more expansive Marquee events four times a year at the same location. Their next Marquee event, to be held on May 18, will be “Music & Psychedelics.” Check the site for deets. 

As for the aptly-named Jacob Tell, he has found the neurotransmitter release, and it has set him free. “Those early experiences when I was 18, 19, 20; they spiritually molded me. They awakened me.” Thoreau once exhorted, Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Tell has done exactly that and would like us all to follow suit. But what if the found landscape isn’t actually a dream, but the other thing? Jacob Tell believes answering this question is the charter for a new world, and District216 a gathering of tomorrow’s enlightened First Citizens “These psychedelics are sacraments and tools you have to respect and approach with reverence,” Tell says. His grin is serene. “What can we learn?”  

Visit www.district216.com for more information


Curveballs and Lemonade: A Day in the Life

Six days later, and this life rollercoaster experience is beginning to sink in.

Sean and I have seen 60 or more Phish shows together since 1999, including 9 earlier just this summer. Phish’s 11th Festival since 1996 titled “Curveball” would have made it 12 shows for Sean and I in 2018 thus far, and would count significantly more than regular shows. Festivals require months of planning, mapping logistics, coordination with your crew, and severe anticipation (think Christmas Eve for a five year old). Sean and I rallied three other friends to join us, making it possible to experience the ultimate convenience in Phish camping - an RV rental!  Phish festivals showcase multiple sets of powerful music played over multiple days, often include a late night surprise set in a secret location, display incredible art installations, a myriad of delicious food vendors, fun spaces to explore and relax, a tremendous sprawl of camp sites and the most dedicated like-minded tribe of phans seeking the ultimate spiritual collective release from all of life’s stresses. 

Curveball was no different. This time it’s sold out, 65,000 strong. We were listening to Phish’s festival radio station “The Bunny” on our way in to the Watkins Glen festival site, looking forward to picking up a copy of the daily newspaper, stoked to participate in the wiffle ball and corn hole tournaments, shop the farmers market, and our friend Kerri planned to run in the Runaway Jim 5k race. Until we received the news... 

“I heard the news today, oh boy.”

Wednesday, August 15th. Matt, Cin, Kerri, Sean and I came from multiple corners of the country (Seattle, Brooklyn, San Diego & Santa Barbara) to meet at our RV rental spot in New Jersey. The five of us couldn’t be more excited at our late night Walmart pit stop. We loaded up the RV with way too much bacon, avocados, chips, grilled cheese supplies, various chocolates, alcohol, Gatorade, water, mud boots, headbands, stickers, glitter and many more items not worthy of acknowledgement. The five of us got a comfortable night’s sleep in the air conditioned RV, excited to explore Curveball the next day, a full day before the music begins. 

“About a lucky man who made the grade”

Thursday, August 16th. We arrived on site by 9am to pick up wristbands and the RV parking pass. Through Sean and my music industry work we have a friend who was able to get us into a rare RV campsite on flat pavement that had water and electric hookups. We literally could not be better prepared to have the weekend of a lifetime. After egg, bacon and avo breakfast sandwiches we found warm showers 50 yards from the RV, then ventured into the festival venue from our RV sanctuary. I’ve worked at hundreds of concerts and festivals and attended even more as a fan. This site was absolutely gorgeous. The flow was intuitive, had clear and fun signage, creative and varied vendors lined the paths, large art exhibits were scattered throughout, and the massive stage stuck out of one end soon to draw us all in like moths to Kuroda’s world-class light show. The bits of mud had mostly been covered with hay, and the site appeared pretty dry since the previous weeks of rain. It all added up to fun, fun, phun! After lunch and delicious ice cream treats we decided a mid day nap was in order...

“And though the news was rather sad”

...Sean woke us all from our decadent sleep with the news. Curveball cancelled?! WTF! Is this a joke? The first of many Curveball pranks this weekend, right? It can not be. We are here with thousands of early birds. Tens of thousands more are setting up camp as we speak. Tens of thousands more are landing at airports or driving in as the announcement is first heard. Why?! Oh dear Phish gods, why? Water contamination due to heavy rainfall the previous weeks and local flooding in the Watkins Glen region. Residents on a mandatory water boil order. Tanks at the water treatment plant needing emptying and scrubbing before anyone can safely drink or bathe. The governors office and Phish crew negotiated options, but ultimately the festival permit was pulled as they were unable to provide 300,000 gallons of fresh water to the site immediately that day. F-U-C-K. Mother Nature wins, again. (That’s another blog post.)

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"Well, I just had to laugh”

“So what now?,” collectively gasped 65,000 gutted phans. For those on their way, “do we keep driving into Curveball for one night with phamily?” For those just arriving “do we continue setting up camp?” For everyone on site, “do we spend the night and and party and cry together before the site closes at noon the next day?” And for us, “do we get out tonight knowing more rain is coming? Where do we go? What do we do until Monday?” Many considered changing flights (and some did), abandoning their magic weekend of celebratory release. Everyone had planned their summers around this pilgrimage. Countless PTO days used. Countless miles traveled from all over the globe to be with each other. Countless dollars invested to be here, now, together. A myriad of vendors who left their day to day businesses to sell at Curveball will recoup nothing for their troubles. We heard a guy broke up with his girlfriend, instead opting to attend Curveball. We heard several people were fired over their decision to attend Curveball. The stories are still pouring into the Phish message boards as I write mine. 

“I saw the photograph”

Bitter shock, betrayal, heartbreak, rage, depression and hysterics instantly swept over tens of thousands.  We decided to skip the assumed rainstorm and head south to a friend in the Poconos, Pennsylvania. After driving three hours through dark, rain, and little league World Series traffic, I pulled into a beautiful property and parked the beast amidst lush trees and green ground-cover as far as the eye can see. Our sanctuary for the next couple days. Aaron greeted us, throwing ears of corn at the RV door and yelling some painful dumb pun about life’s curveballs. He sorta understood our collective pain after hearing our story, but no one really does unless they’ve been spiritually connected to and guided by the greatest band on earth for years, or decades in our case. 

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Friday, August 17th. Aaron’s property is a perfect place to land, facilitating the mourning process from shock and denial to anger and bargaining. Let the lemonade making begin. Aaron, his wife and friend spent the day with us showing us around the area, driving us to sushi and staying up late laughing, eating pizza, watermelon and pineapple we had on the RV, and drinking the strongest liquor in sight. Matt and Cin decide late that night to go back to her place in Brooklyn — and then there were three. We stayed up late looking at #Curveball and #Phish memes on Instagram and Facebook. I’ve included some at the bottom of this post for your amusement. Humor can be a wonderful coping mechanism in the throws of shock…

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Saturday, August 18th. Kerri grew up in Jersey and worked for decades in Manhattan before moving to San Diego. We have a built in Sherpa! It’s time to make more lemonade. After a thank you and goodbye to Aaron’s compound, we decide to take the RV to a Walmart parking lot in Jersey because driving it into NYC is insane. That, and Walmart allows RVs to park free of charge. Yes you heard that right — plan months to attend a Phish festival, and end up RV camping at a Jersey Walmart! CURVEBALL indeed. With Kerri’s NJ transit system knowledge and our ambition for adventure, we made our way to Brooklyn to meet Sean and my childhood friend Tyler and his lady. Back to a party of five, we wandered Brooklyn eventually landing at Dinosaur BBQ where the plates were fat as the patrons. Commiserating more with outsiders helped find more humor in the grief, although we basically stayed in the anger and depression stages of the grieving process. A late night hang at Tyler’s apartment and some train and Lyft rides back to Jersey paved the way for a quiet night at Walmart. And more Phish Curveball memes. 

Sunday, August 19th. What’s that feeling? Wait... a tinge of excitement? We haven’t felt this since our Thursday nap. How can we possibly have any excitement? Tonight the Brooklyn Bowl (music venue, bowling alley and bar) is hosting a Phish meet-up where they would screen a 3 set show from the 1996 Clifford Ball festival. Not only did the Brooklyn Bowl ensure this aired on all 14 screens, music piping throughout every inch of the venue (toilets included), but they offered a 50% discount on bowling and specialty drinks for all Curveball refugees. A huge thanks to venue owner and jam band promoter legend Peter Shapiro for providing the community his space for this event. Finally we can properly commiserate with our tribe! But first, some fun in Manhattan. We enjoyed a table full of Jewish comfort food at 2nd Ave Deli, complete with pastrami on rye, kugel, kinish and Dr. Brown’s cream soda. We walked a few neighborhoods, marveled at the varied architecture styles side by side,  enjoyed anti-Trump rhetoric, and cruised Washington square before finding a train back into Brooklyn. Everywhere we looked seemed to be references to Phish lyrics, mostly cruel puns that reminded us how much we needed this night with phamily. 

At last we made it to Brooklyn Bowl, our temporary Mecca for the evening. As soon as we arrived we found many phans clearly in the anger stage of the grieving process and swapped stories. Some had stayed Thursday night and managed to find the “ditch party” and the “tunnel party” on site, literally gaggles of phans that organically formed parties in a ditch and a tunnel accordingly. These gatherings apparently raged all night (people had 3 days of party favors to now consume in one night), and one even featured an impromptu band that covered Phish favorites. We were glad we left when we did, although were happy that many phans had at least one night to blow off steam and make a bittersweet memory. The venue filled up with Phish shirts and hats, and we at last felt at home amongst the tribe. Set one started and the dance floor filled. I’ve never seen so many people dancing to a video projected on a screen, but it felt right. The crowd cheered appropriately at each moment that a live show would have experienced, drowning out the pre-recorded crowd noise on the video. So many hugs and high-fives went around the room in an attempt to salvage a lost festival experience. The take away from this room full of conversations is that the band is experiencing heartache along with the phans this weekend, perhaps even more as they knew precisely what experience they had been planning for a year. For this moment we were filled with joy and connection, all processing our grief in real time, as healthy as we knew how. 

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After some 3am Joe’s pizza we called it a rap and had one final sleep in the RV. I’m writing this on my Monday bittersweet (mostly bitter) plane ride home. We made the best lemonade we knew how to make. 

What would Phish have played? What stunts would they have pulled off? Any special guests? Any new cover songs? Any secret late night sets? Any interactive art experiences? We will probably never know, unless Phish decides to keep the Curveball moniker and theme for festival 12, whenever and wherever that may be... until then we will rage at Dick’s over Labor Day weekend, throw down for fall tour, and appreciate whatever cover album they debut on Halloween in Vegas. Never again will I complain about a “rip-cord BDTNL.” Perhaps we will soon even hear that MSG for New Years will happen once again?  Thank the Phish gods that we will (most likely) see more shows in 2018 and beyond! 

Moving forward, I know my life expectations will be more modestly considered. As Phish says, “most events aren’t planned” and we must “surrender to the flow.” What a reminder to be present, count our blessings, and love each other. Thank you Phish (and their world class crew) for caring so much about the community we proudly wear on our sleeves, and here’s to festival 12!

I am extremely GRATEFUL for having seen Phish so many times throughout my life, and for the future shows I hope to attend.  I am GRATEFUL for the Phish experiences that have shaped my life.  I am GRATEFUL for the Phish community who share love for music and progressive vision for humanity.  I am GRATEFUL for THE MUSIC, always and forever.  

“A crowd of people turned away
But I just had to look
Having read the book
I'd love to turn you on"

PS - I must include some beautiful words of reflection from Kerri, “Sometimes what grows out of what’s not expected surpasses the expectation itself. I love/loved our crew and am filled with so much love.  I’m proud of everyone for rolling on and supporting each other. I have seen everyone grow a little bit more on their own and that’s fucking beautiful, so bring on the curveballs - we all now have the ability to smash them out of the park!!”

 

Enjoy some #Phish #Curveball Memes...