this is what i wrote about the gorge right after it happened. it might be the best you get for a while, but we'll see.

tuesday sept 7, 8:44pm
our house is a wreck. Our fridge looks like a convenience store. Beer and gatorade and soda(I almost typed POP), and more beer and juice and more beer in bottles and cans. There is a huge mound of pillows and blankets and tents and chairs and jackets in the middle of our living room. There are random tripping hazards scattered everywhere.
My noisehairs still smell like camp fire and dirt. I’ve got a cold that won’t quit and I keep smoking weed. My brain is awhirl and my soul is light and my need to just go back there is strong.
What a great weekend.
It went by quicker than I could’ve imagined yet there’s memories that feel months away. It really started last Wednesday night and didn’t end until about an hour ago when Greg, Shellie and Jack left.
I can’t really explain it. I really need to lay and relax now. But it was another example of DMB living at it’s best. I love that band and I love what they bring to my life. I love my friends. I love central Washington in all it’s deserty splendor. That venue is amazing. I love the river and it’s coldness and talks with people out on the ropes. I love coolers in the water and kickball and coors light, card games and hot dogs. The exhaustion that follows the concerts. I love feeling that carefree.
It was amazing.