i am an unrequited astronomer, pretend patient, gentle adventurer, pedal enthusiast, recovering calligrapher, occasional thespian and unfinished poet living in portland, oregon. contacting me via email is usually a good idea.
too tired to write everything in prose:
philip: "have you been out here long?"; wall of voodoo's "ring of fire"; philip's hell house; i call rob & mel on the way to corvallis to see if they want to come; darkest of the hillside thickets: cthulhu strikes back; straight to food, then the outer circle, then the inner circle; john keeps running into people he knows; i can't keep anything in my hands; john beats one of the tug-of-war champions; none of us really cares about the jousting; my burning man pants are popular (from deek and bryan's next adventure); we all pitch in to get kettle corn; john: "where's that road go?" (a cemetary & the scariest forest ever); me: "i don't remember going through pedee;" an underestimated pink blush sunset which became liquid gold and flame and so large it made the storm clouds on the other side of the sky purple; why does it seem so much longer to get back?
trixie's back seat seem adequate to transport passengers, though the gap is still puzzling. despite my best intentions, her dashboard is still coated in playa dust and she is still covered with poetry magnets, which people are still surprised at & playing with (including the kids outside sven's house & at the renfair). i should start an faq (most oft-asked question: "are those magnets?" second most oft-asked question: "do people steal the them?" *sighs* third most oft-asked question: "where did you get them?").