It's almost time for Swampstock XI, which means all week I've been useless at work, restless at home, and running on too little sleep both places. This is all part of the necessary buildup of energy, I think.
I did manage, at some point in this mad rush, to finish a new Jenny Haniver story, which will be making its debut this weekend in booklet form on the auction table. My assessment of it now is about the usual ("Could use a revision"), but it ain't bad for a week's work. Though I'm not expecting to be the cause of any bidding wars or suchlike.
Possibly just as exciting is the premier performance of OVO, the first Thing in a Jar musickal project. We'll be taking the stage sometime Saturday to assault the gathering with what may be its most plugged-in set ever, putting our spare yet loopy spin on a bunch of weirdass covers in the bastard fusion style that has been dubbed (after probably one too many glasses of Pete's Purple Fuck-Me Punch) "proggoth." Be afraid.
We set out tomorrow afternoon (and I've been entertaining for a while the rather cruel fantasy of going back in time to tell my twenty-year-old self how I'll be driving out to Birdsong Hill on Friday in a car full of hot women), which means tonight will be the mad dash to do all the final packing in preparation of forgetting the two or three essential items that will be left on the kitchen counter all weekend. (This always happens, and I've just resigned myself to quit fighting it.)
So I'll see you there if you're going - and if you're heading there, or planning to be there in spirit, you might take a moment or two between today and tomorrow to focus some energy on this sigil, all charged up for "No Rain on Swampstock Eleven":
(Incidentally and resonantly, this post is the 200th entry on Otter Ponderings. And also my first posted image, mostly because it took me this long to figure out how to do it. Round of applause.)