It is only 11:00pm but i am tired. i get woken up repeatedly at night by Jay, and early in the morning when she gets up. So being a night person is close to impossible for me. I still stay up later than her, but still, really really late, like 1 to 3 to 4, is usually pretty difficult. i remember when i used do do that from time to time. in some phases of life, a lot.

but now, i'm tired. and the drive i used to have. where is it now. comfort is often more important than the almost religious drive to stay up and inch toward truth. inch or sleep?

and now my housemates will mostly likely soon be blundering the door back from the desert, the annual hipster pilgrammage to the nevada wastelands that i have opted out of this year. i am gambling, have been all night, hoping i will go go bed before they get back, so i will not have to witness their annoying return. I do not want to hear the stories, the unpacking, the showering off the playa dust, shaking out tents. maybe tommorrow. but not tonight.

I don't regret not going at all. I'm not bitter. But the reason i did not go is also the reason i don't want to get caught up in the tale-telling, the war stories. I don't need it. i have better things to do with my time. I want their last week to be a silent void into which they disappeared, and have returned, but their memories remain locked behind some event horizon, accessible only to them, but not able to be released forth onto we who have abstained.

There are other Temporary Autonmous Zones to spend time in. Burning Man is now Anarchy with Police Protection, Anarchy with all the right forms filled out. The bunker has sucked the juice right out of it and propped it up, another facade on Main Street, U.S.A., another unblinking mirror-eye of the Spectacle. And besides, it costs too much! heh.