Another quick update; more personal stuff. Inre: turning 21, I went out, drank in moderate excess, and woke up the next morning feeling fine, except for a mild case of food poisoning. Saturday night began with a 12oz ribeye steak, cooked at a respectable brewery, and that was the only vice I paid for the next day, so to speak.

Now I'm back in Iowa, awash in poitics, metal processing and the same ol' funk. It turns out that you can indeed change people's ways by threatening them with a giant axe, but only while you have it at their throats. Jesus understood this... so did Mohammed, I suppose, even though he took a different approach. It's kill or be killed, this world of ours, even if you're immortal.

Anyway, bed-time. Friday night's action is a choice between experiencing a return visit of the irresistably sensual Old Time Relijun at the Practice Space downtown--that living room cum concert hall I've mentioned before--and listening to a talk by "an erotic sadomasochistic science fiction writer." I don't need alcohol, living in a place like this... but I can't say it doesn't help.