luminaire

This journal entry brought to you by the buttons Fast Forward, and Pause. Aditional sponsorship provided by beer.



Red, bald, and blue. Eh, close enough.



You can't intimidate the camera.



I like you and all, but no makeouts in front of all these people.



I spy, with my cameras eye.



All smiles and colors.



If it hurts...



Drink more.



Let the party begin.



Somehow, SupremePizzaMan ended up being pimp-for-a-night.



We can only watch in envy.



There's only one way to put out a fire, at least at a party. That was the worst smelling steam I've ever had the displeasure of sampling.



Aftermath.



Fast Forward to PDX, one day later. Venice is right back in the saddle.



Amitabha Tries his hand at fire spinning. The sissy way. Note to self, fireworks are really hard to take pictures of.



Ode to a homeless person.



Basking in the soft glow of electronica.



Big booty hoes.



Dunx decided that holding the mortar was the best way to fire it. Note that I'm sitting about 6 inches from him.



"Don't worry dude, I can make it fit."



Form of...badass.



Form of...hottie.



Form of...candy raver.



Form of...bad picture.



Even Al succumbed to our powers.



I couldn't take my own advice about the fireworks shots.



A hearty fuck you to Oregon State law.



And the coolest working telephone this side of Amish country.


This weekend was either a huge succes, or a gross waste of time, depending on who you ask. Oh, you're asking me? The jury is still out on that one.

So drive me far away. I don't care where, just far.

Edit: As a side note,

this is extremely badass.