two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid...

months of planning boiled down to the few hours i've left to do everything before i have to leave. i remember making a mental list about a week ago, of necessary provisions. let's hope this list is similar, at best.

audiobooks, check. it's an eighteen hour trip one-way, you'd better believe i'm armed to the teeth with the suckers. maps, maps, maps, check. printouts, atlas, a detail of downtown austin and its 60 (christ) venues. music. most of my "preparation" translated into getting drunk and spending hours browsing the itunes music store, carefully selecting the indie-grade fuel i'll need when the storytelling runs dry. i won't have brother jeff's ipod like i did for a new york a few weeks ago, but i've made do with a spindle of blank cds and am burning the last of my mix cds as i type this. computer. the old powerbook is reformatted, refreshed and fully charged. camera, courtesy of amanda wright. my pilot pal is hooking me up with the eyes of this blog. stimulants. four-pack of red bull for starters, couple bottles of water, three packs of cigarettes and the self-granted permission to stop for coffee whenever needed. clothes, cleaned and hung with care by mama hutson herself. money... enough. plan is to eat and drink at as many free day parties as i can, and save my cash for shwag. word is there's a poster convention that'll eat me alive. i'm particularly prowling for a falco "in his amadeus outfit" piece for colby at the comic shop.

so, this is it. hitting the open road, with arms open to anything. inhale--

He seemed to be headed for his ideal fate, which is compulsive psychosis dashed with a jigger of psychopathic irresponsibility and violence.

Jack Kerouac, On The Road

whew. friends, i'm off.