I got home from Coachella yesterday afternoon, and promptly climbed into bed with Chaucer, where he passed out with his head on my shoulder and slept harder and snored louder than I've ever seen him do.

I spent a few hours obsessively reading all of the news from Boston, crying when I saw the picture of the man in the wheelchair with his motherfucking legs blown off, before I fell asleep around ten. I didn't wake up until one this afternoon.

I dreamt a lot, about music and sex and weird reconfigurations of things I saw at the festival, art installations and acrobatics and stages, about people I met there and people I know back at home.

When I woke up, my head felt like a scrambled circuit board, and it hasn't stopped feeling that way yet. I think I overdid it this past weekend, and I think I'm going to be paying for it for a few days yet.

I'm really saddened and disgusted by the marathon bombings. Here I just spent three days celebrating what to me is some of the best of humanity - the creativity and community and pure joy that can come forth when we put some effort into life. And then the very next day, I'm slapped back to reality with the very ugliest side of humanity.

I read that some 25-30 people have had amputations. And not that their legs are any more special than anyone else's, obviously, but presumably a majority of these new amputees are runners. Fucking runners. The viciousness just makes me want to throw up.

On top of that, I'm coping with some negative feelings about some personal crap that just all unraveled today, making me feel like shit about myself.

So it might be a little while yet, all these things combined, before I feel like writing about Coachella, but I did want to say hello.