Talked too much, drank too much, smoked too much, listened as much as I could, all day, all night until the wee hours. Am possibly a little broken and fragile this morning. It seems that at one point during last night - maybe after Holly Herndon and I discovered that we had drunk all the whisky - I apparently agreed to host the next Long Progress Bar. And Juha tweeted it so that I couldn’t pretend I’d never said it. Because sometimes, it was said, you just need an old white man to do these things for you. So I guess I’ll be here next year. I hope so. I haven’t felt this connected to the culture and the future in a long time. Not a bad way to start the long winter at all. Here on New Road again, drinking coffee and looking into the warm alien dark ahead. Thanks, Juha.