One Week

The upside to Burning Man: perhaps an affable Godzilla or mighty asteroid will take this opportunity to crash that glorified neohippy keg party and rid the world forever of the sort of people who actually go to Burning Man. I mean, while they're all conveniently in one place and everything.

Incidentally, I have nothing bad to say about sand. I took a walk this afternoon down to my very own Atlantic-adjoining heap of it and read for a while. I'm sure we haven't seen the last of the humidity and other summer-related horrors, but it's nice that we've had a taste of fall the past few days. I'm starting to see leaves in my driveway and I can wear long sleeved shirts, which leaves me as giddy as I was gloomy after the first few hot days in April. I'm off to buy textbooks tomorrow, which is another favorite fall ritual despite the less-than-thrilling part where I get to lug home C: How To Program and all its little brothers and sisters. Also: good lord, do I need new bookshelves.

<Emcee> EMMA HOW CAN YOU NOT LIKE BURNING MAN
<Emcee> IT IS THE REJUVINATION OF THE PRIMAL SPIRIT OF MAN THAT WAS LOCKED AWAY DURING THE CREATION OF SOCIETY
<Emcee> $250 at the gate