Thursday October 21, 1999 

the question that I ask myself, especially at 5:15 am, dragging my sorry ass down the street, clutching a case of CD's thinking will I make bart, the bus, the plane, the question is: was it worth it, the 24 hours spent running, lugging, planning and then finally doing, only to run, lug and plan to get back to work in a somewhat timely manner. the easy answer, when running down the airport terminal, after two and a half hours of sleep, trying to beg my way on to the flight, trying to get the taste of acid exhaustion out of my mouth is of course, it was worth.
it always is.

less a zone then a slightly twisted birthday costume party (where a vast majority of the costumes were worn on the inside (what are you tonight? an over worked web developer who's whole wardrobe was purchased at the gap by my mother.)) there was of course a lovely mata hari, a few deaths sauntering around, a smattering of clowns, a witch and a few that were oh a bit serious (mark pesce as a film director...oh good lord help us.) as for myself I started out clad in my usual bohemian host gear: sarong and a white shirt, and ended the evening as john bates, internet startup posterboy and all around goof. I of course was wearing his bright orange BigWords jumpsuit. (as for john he ended up only in his shorts...)

a little history about the jump suit: john's company BigWords opened a warehouse in hebron, kentucky and he invited me out there to dj the christening party, sure I said, I'll do anything once, and got one a plane to cincinnati. what I didn't know is that I would essentially experience the anti-burning man, complete with two slightly too old to know better cheer leaders from hell (tour guides who insisted on returning to the same over filled meat market, college pickup beer swill bar every night), a party where well dressed (as in a coat and tie, that was probably last worn at uncle ned's funeral) asking 'uh, you have any country and western,' a plane ticket that would require either $800 early return fee or a saturday stay (I got there on wednesday) and all the various and sundry accoutrement of wandering through the middle of nowhere: land of strip malls, and their upscale cousin's: the land of brand name malls - wall-home-mart-depot-radio-sams-everything-shack-club, and literally miles of parking lots and every fast food restaurant you can think of (every hear of steak and shake?) so you can get the idea that john owes me, and owes me big, so when he came walking in wearing said BigWords jumpsuit, I said 'hey when do I get one...'

john immediately gets up on the big white chair and starts to sing happy birthday to me, while doing a strip tease, removing his jumpsuit down to his scivies, and I of course, lose the sarong and become john bates, spouting how the internet has untold possibilities for humanity (for e-commerce) roasting both john and mark pesce.

so back to the morning after, the grimy sweat that plasters your shirt to your back, saying to you, I wish I was anywhere but here. these of course, are choices: I suppose I could have stayed in bed, took my time, but perhaps part of the attraction of flying up (and then back) to do the zone is the extremity of it. somehow in the struggle there is l i f e, the misery reminds me that I really have it quite good, and am much better off then a vast majority of whom I walk by. it is an easy thing to forget in our lives of comfort, that those of us who have succeeded a) may not always be this lucky, b) are definitely luckier then most, and c) we should consider who and where we are in the larger scheme of things. BTW I saw the fight club last night and rightly or wrongly that mind bomb resonates deeply, go see it if you can.

so luck willing and my continual success,
the next zone is on december 2nd,
the last zone of this century (yet another of the last of this century's, no?) it is S and perhaps it should be called
Sanctuary as I never thought we'd get so far...