just back from mojave 3. amazing. i was in heaven. despite the tired. the smoke. the too many gin and tonics. and daphne being there. (i've never been to the croc without seeing daphne in the arms of someone that i could have been.) i had a great spot and got a little use out of my spiffy sticky-cam. i fell in love with the bass player. i'm always falling in love with the bass player.

the earthquake was insane. it made me feel all small and silly, squatting in my cube 39 stories in the air. violent flashbacks of tornado and nuclear-bomb drills in elementary school. i was still nervously shaking for hours afterwards.

yet i'd gladly take the quake over the mardi gras riots the night before, though. this city, this lovely city, seems really lame right now. i fucking hate senseless violence.

and you. you're some kind of angel. but i still don't know which kind. you've never not been someone's blessed angel. so which one of us has been blind...