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My weekend:

waking up before dawn, 14 hours of highway time, big plates of mexican food, traffic jam, nametags, journal, sleeping in a dilapidted gymnasium, waking up at dawn, coffee, bagels, apples, coffee, greetings, seminars, workshops, feelings of being smothered by beaurocracy, pizza, pictures, board meeting, elite neighborhoods, 9 p.m. coffee, hipster streets, boxcar rider with a handlebar mustache, twelve plates of chili fries, directionless, String Cheese lot, friendly police, stories we laughed at twice, , reports of massive protest, breakdancing next to sleeping bodies, kung fu, Chinese food at 2 a.m., giving the leftovers to a homeless person, searching for beer at 3 a.m., waking up an hour past dawn, 12 hours of highway time, last tank pumped by hand, dropping off loved passenger, a meeting stretching over 50 miles, traffic jam, waking up not knowing where I was, home.