Despite the best efforts of some fella in DC who firmly believes that one must come to a full and complete stop when making the transition from on-ramp to highway, (especiallyt if some hapless fuck who didn't get this memo should be on your six) I have returned in one piece.
Granted, it's an aching, sunburned, greasy-haired, hungover, smelly, disoriented and discombobulated, but most of all, profoundly satisfied and exhausted piece with no real "voice" tp speak of (with?). ... but still. More on that later. Right now what really matters, all that matters in the world in fact, is the supreme and universal greatness and all... or you mean that video? that I am close to the unruly and occasionally slightly hostile pile 'o blankets that call themselves my bed, which invaded and conquored the room held at that time by my previous bedding... anyway, I'll see you later, bye.
mood: The dead have no moods!
music: crickets? or is that goats?