I have been asleep for two days. That is, except for the five minutes I spent gasping in terror when my nose-phlegm met my lung-phlegm, thereby creating a perfect storm of suffocation.
But, anyway, how are you?
I’d hoped to give you more up-to-the-moment reports from SxSW, but because I was dulled by a potent mix of Dayquil and Bloody Marys, I didn’t do much. Among the things I didn’t do:
– I did not charm Jason Kottke into sarcastically calling his fiancï¿½e Yoko.
– I did not start an intriguing new photo project.
– I did not play air guitar to Aerosmith power ballads.
– I did not give the Threadless guys noogies.
– When I waited an hour for a thimble of box-Chardonnay at the Frog Design Party, whilst the show-choir-duet band played TV show theme songs, I did not punch the lead singer in the teeth.
But only because I lacked the energy, my friends. Never the will.
Next year, I plan to wear a pink cowboy hat and hot pants, and swig tequila from the bottle while I dance flamenco on the bar with Ben Trott. Ben looks awesome in hot pants.