I have many good things to say about the last week and SXSW, all of them good, except for one.
I have the flu.
First, I developed the worst case of laryngitis I've ever had — effectively no voice at all — thanks from yelling at parties and staying up until 4:30 a.m. I really ran myself ragged and decided to come to San Antonio to spend time with Enrique and his family rather than stay for music: that's how beat I was.
This morning I woke up with spinny dreams (in which I hatched an entirely new business plan that combines details of Worldchanging, Passively Multiplayer Online Game and a comment Kevin Smokler made) and aches and the feeling I had a fever. Advil kept it together, and then it wore off. I took my temperature right after I found out that the flu's been hitting people from SXSW: it was 100.2º F.
So my happy-joy-I-love-all-you-guys posts will have to wait. So will the one where I talk about what a good job Hugh Forrest does of organizing the whole thing. I'm down to nothin' here and am off to nap for a while.