Daev and Owen's Party

This is Owen. He's 45. He's alright. He is a great artist.

This is my kitchen. Wanna fight about it?

I just gave it a very thorough cleaning, but the far corner needs to be replastered. You wouldn't ever notice it if you were ever personally there, but these kinds of things just really come out in photos. Try photographing your own squalid apartment if you don't believe me.

Britta, Anett and the Adventure Newzealanders, in no particular order and possibly spelled incorectly.

This is friendly Simon from Australia. He really knows how to party

Thomas n' Manu, my oven, Norbert, David, and Richard the Explorer.

These are good, decent, god-fearing folk. They are the backbone of All Tomorrow's Parties.

Here, they are humming Stille Nacht in four part harmony (Norbert didn't participate).

This is me. It's my job to look after Mr. and Mrs. H. 'Cause when they met, it was murder!

At the Airport(s)

Now we have just passed through security and I thought they did a real bang-up job. I gave them a thumbs up.

The toilets were so clean at the Dresden Airport, you could drink from them!

Apparently the Mile High Club is not as exclusive as it used to be. Proof positive found in the john at departures.

This is Frankfurt. Looks exactly the same as Dresden. It is the same, really; just another stop in the most tedious, stressful day you've had in a while.

I also have lots more pics of this and the airfields and stuff, but all of them about as asthetic as a colonoscopy. Maybe I'll post those later.

In Nashville i

There room I'm staying in is tastefully furnished, but rather small. Compare the relative size of the room with the jar o' mustard which accidentally wandered onto the shot.

The living room where actually no one goes.

I get to drive this zippy little chariot 'round while I'm home. So that's a perk.

The batteries are recharging, so maybe we'll have more photos from Nashville tomorrow. These were kinda lame.

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