Last night, we went out and hung out at Jim's place for "Shakedown," where we shook down our camping gear and art crap for the playa. I guess I can say I'm officially getting excited for this year. First of all, the art project that my village has been working on is coming along incredibly well (holy crap!) and they may be able to do a test lift tomorrow. Second, my tent worked out ok, except that it was hotter than a Pinto's backside (why do they make tents black?).
Today, I'm hung over and groggy, but struggling along to finish the work I've got to have done by tomorrow at start-of-day. But hey, this'll be about my 12th PAID article, so I may qualify as an actual writer.
Now, I just need to take a fuckton of drugs, make bizarre and loud acusations, and lurch around maniacally, and I'll be Hunter S. Thompson (well, before he died).
Today, I'm hung over and groggy, but struggling along to finish the work I've got to have done by tomorrow at start-of-day. But hey, this'll be about my 12th PAID article, so I may qualify as an actual writer.
Now, I just need to take a fuckton of drugs, make bizarre and loud acusations, and lurch around maniacally, and I'll be Hunter S. Thompson (well, before he died).