Nun goes to a good rave and does it badly.

I went to another rave in the woods yesterday evening. I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to tell you exactly where it was or who was involved with it. It suffices to say that is was a gathering of a few dozen people at an anarchist collective farm, so the pretty good music and projected art happened in and on a barn, respectively. All very nice.

Here's where I got it wrong: I drank all three yerba mate soft drinks I brought. I've had one hour of sleep in the last 24 hours. I never did get around to pitching my tent; I just got my sleeping bag and tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep. (My new foam core mattress pads seem to work pretty well, though.)

I must say, it was an absolutely lovely drive there, even if the end of it involved some backtracking trying to find the place. I left in the morning twilight in the hope - an unrealistic one, as it happened - of getting some sleep at home.

If it happens again next year, I need to show up earlier and, if possible, bring someone to camp with. Was it as fun as Cascadia? Well, no, but again, that was mainly due to my abuse of perfectly legal substances from my friendly neighborhood PCC. And I don't mean the nice cabernet I brought.