I have little witty commentary to offer up as I have to get my ass in to bed so I can rise at 5am to make my flight home. I do, however, have some pictures. Random shots from the past week or so as I went to Atlanta, came home, flew to LA, drove to San Diego to visit Trevor and Sara, and then drove back to LA to visit Corinne.
Witness . . . advertising, the suffering center, my favorite tradeshow booth (so warm and invting), the nativity set my dad carved wherein the Virgin looks like Ted Kennedy (his analysis), silly boys moshing, bad spelling, Trevor & Sara looking cute, kids torturing a crab, and a beautiful evening in Hermosa beach. I had a great whirlwind expedition through So Cal, seeing people I love. And now back to Seattle to see the person I love the mostest. ;-)
I'm trying to remember. It's been a blur. There were meetings, many meetings. I was on panels. There was this whole Alanis Morissette thing. And the Darryl Hammond incident. Many people with phones. Startups throwing "launch parties." Feels like late 1990s Internet bubble. Manic. I need to get more caffeine flowing through my veins to make sense of it all.
Now the fact that I took a picture of this elevator incident with my phone might place me in this very same category, but people, what the hell is going on when a guy with his Blackberry in a hip holster feels that he's not already sufficiently connected to global data network and must browse his Microsoft watch for news about the wild world world out there that he might actually experience were he not spending so much time focused on liquid crystal displays?
I've only been here four and a half hours and so I am not in any position to provide a fair and comprehensive analysis, but my early conclusion based on limited data is that Atlanta is ridiculous. I'll post my empirical evidence sometime in the future, but right now, having just finished dinner, it's more important that I get to sleep.
The plan was to leave work at noon. Top way to foil this plan:
Find out that the hotel reservations for you and nine other colleagues traveling to Atlanta for CTIA have been (a) cancelled, (b) being relocated en masse to a crappy hotel 18 miles away from where--for months--events and meetings have been planned, scheduled, and developed, (c) finding out that the relocation fails to account for the fact that I need to sleep in a hotel room in Atlanta Saturday night , (d) witness Elaine, who’s been organizing these logistics, have a cerebral hemorrhage, (e) listen as “Nicole” at the front desk simply refuses act on Elaine’s urgent request to “speak to a manager,” and (f) finally make contact with the general manager who, after some conversation, makes things not suck completely.
I didn't remember what day it was until I was in my car driving to work, so I'm not wearing green today. But I don't think this is a big deal because:
(1) at least I didn't make the mistake Jessamyn once did and wear orange, and
(2) the Irish are all lazy drunken thieves and I'm not sure we should be celebrating that kind fo culture. They are also liars.
I have never watched a film about Burning Man, despite being kindly given a documentary for Christmas a couple of years ago. There's something about condensing the whole experience that just seems wrong. I guess I'm concerned that a Burning Man documentary would end up being something like a Muzak version of a punk song. And besides, documentaries often try to tell the audience what something is about, and for me that eats into the beautiful slipperiness of this multi-dimensional experience.