"It's well we cannot hear the screams...

...we make in other people's dreams."

Whew. I needed that. DJ Beck's Midnight Salad went off brilliantly.
The Rhys rules. If I were remotely poetically inclined, there would be a tribute here. Thanks for saving the party from projectorlessness (fucking library), and also for making Chuck bring you (and himself). Also big ups to absolutely everyone who made the evening what I'm told was fabulous. I will cling to the few assorted blurry, yet fond, memories of the affair I was afforded by my decimated grey matter. I'm still sore all over. What is it so much fun to tackle people when you're wasted? And just how did I end up on the very bottom of what felt to be a thirty person dogpile? I may never know.
My most heartfelt gratitude goes out the the best lot of friends a girl could have, who journeyed from all points of this state. You all deserve medals for being so hardcore. Thanks for the 'Cock, Mikey f'-in Ha, I owe my total blackout to you.
So happy we got to talk to Jesse, even if I don't really remember it so much. I dreamed you were partying with us too, dollface. Miss you like hell. We'll recreate it for you when you get back.
So, not to leave anyone else out, I heart Adrock, Anna, Michael, Randy, Scott and all the coolest crafttown persons (of which there are many) for showing up.
The nose is on the grindstone now, I'll see you soon enough.

P.S.- Yay me, I sold all my pieces in the Visual Art Society's sale! Suckers.


Listening to: Nothing from Nothing - Quasi