The End
Oh God, don't make me tell you about my weekend. I helped to give MEAT its final send-off on Thursday night. Let the club that used to happen in my living room be remembered as it was at the top of its game: covered in art, playing the stompiest of music, with bloody go-gos on the boxes wielding butcher knives. I miss you but you've been dead for a long time and I'm glad you've found the sense to lie down. I survived the annual board meeting at the Mysterious Workplace. I survived Aida, which was enthusiastic but strangely amaturish. I survived the fetish ball, where J played music by dirty French girls, a contortionist twisted herself into improbable shapes, and people who looked like Thunderdome refugees whipped out angle grinders and sent sparks flying all over Supper Club. I attended an aerials workshop on five hours of sleep, which was probably not my finest couple of hours, but resulted in some excellent clowning for my November act (whichIwillnottalkabout). While the weather was beautiful, I rode around the baseball stadium on my bike and enjoyed the view of the bay. I put on my outfit from the fetish ball and paid a brief visit to the Folsom Street Fair and I left before Nitzer Ebb, so I could start letting people into Bunker 2 for the off-off-Folsom party. Bunker 2 flowed over and became very, very warm. I fanned T with fistfulls of ostrich feathers. I sent away parties to the roof deck to see our ridiculous panoramic view. Enormous quantities of alcohol were consumed. The next morning, I came to work and got a promotion.
I always knew that my time among the crazy people had a finite limit. I have written lengthy documents consisting of sage advice to my replacement. I have pages and pages of resources. Links! Blog posts! Helpful forms and boiler plate! Now I have two weeks in which to train some intrepid creature to read subpoenas, calmly explain the Mysterious Workplace's goals to a variety of crackpots, police mailing lists, and get off of the phone with tin foil hat people in ten minutes or less. In the meantime, I must learn a dizzying variety of new acronyms, most of which seem to be United Nations working groups and subcommittees. I will delve into the world of dissidents with inadequate cryptography, imprisoned journalists, and onerous intellectual property regimes. I will install Skype. I will join many new mailing lists. And the only crazies I will have to deal with are the ones who run governments.
The end is near, my infrequent readers, but so is the beginning. Wish me luck.
I always knew that my time among the crazy people had a finite limit. I have written lengthy documents consisting of sage advice to my replacement. I have pages and pages of resources. Links! Blog posts! Helpful forms and boiler plate! Now I have two weeks in which to train some intrepid creature to read subpoenas, calmly explain the Mysterious Workplace's goals to a variety of crackpots, police mailing lists, and get off of the phone with tin foil hat people in ten minutes or less. In the meantime, I must learn a dizzying variety of new acronyms, most of which seem to be United Nations working groups and subcommittees. I will delve into the world of dissidents with inadequate cryptography, imprisoned journalists, and onerous intellectual property regimes. I will install Skype. I will join many new mailing lists. And the only crazies I will have to deal with are the ones who run governments.
The end is near, my infrequent readers, but so is the beginning. Wish me luck.