So, I missed out on all of the truly cool, excellent events and opted for sleep instead. The main DJ act was The Spacemen (were The Spacemen?), who are supposedly humans who dress like freakish alien gargoylic aliens and wave their tendrilled fingers around like mad, to the beat, and appear very "alien." You'll not see any photographs of them from me! I also missed the main fire event up at the Wanderlust area, opting for sleep instead, oh those lovely z's. There was, assuming I can trust those who made me jealous, fire jumproping... as well as spinning and burning and dancing and flailing about. Cowboys and Indians made an entrance. And there was talk of finding teeny-bopper raverlettes and combining them with an equestrian for fun and perhaps profit. My main contribution was waking up the next morning, wandering around with a bag filled with colorful and lacy fabric, and enlisting some help in order to throw the said fabric over Clayton's geodesic dome. It was pretty. And sweet. And bitter. Sweet.
It is now time for resolutions. I've committed to resting the entire week so that I can pound my body into the ground and never stop shooting and shouting this weekend for e11. I'm hot and bothered and hopping mad at my laziness (but also happy). In vengeance, I'm gonna go crazy psycho machine pumping greased up steamy mad!
