That’s all the credit I have left on my credit card.

I only have $15 in my checking account.

How will I ever make it to Friday?

I don’t know.

I’m home.

Christen and I were talking the whole time about how impossible it would be to record all of the incredible things that happened on this trip. And yes, in a way it is impossible. You can’t re-create or in any way document those conversations that happen sometime after 5 a.m. when you can’t remember the last time you’ve slept. Those times when flying by wind farms, orchards, rest stops, sunrises, sunsets, blasting Interpol, more Interpol, then Peaches, Trent, only Queens of the Stone Age must be played when in Los Angeles… bright, sticky memories of the blinding sun… thousands out on a massive field… five bands playing simultaneously…is it Thursday? Saturday? Sunday?, buy more $3 gatorate… rolling down the windows, more sunblock, more sunblock.

I always say that a road trip is the best way to know whether you are destined to be friends with somebody. And the longer the road trip, the better. We left at midnight on Thursday and didn’t get back until Sunday morning. We maybe slept 10 hours the whole time, yet we didn’t argue even once. We just had more and more fun…no matter the bad food, the extreme sleep deprivation… our Starbucks in Lost Hills, phones threatening to die the whole time… dealing power from whatever outlets we could… the car broke down but we got it fixed, stayed at the house of this random girl we met at the gas station… Christen’s boyfriend Dan came up from San Diego and helped us so much… hundred-degree weather…driving through Indio, Cathedral City, more desert, Palm Springs, L.A., Lost Hills, the endless nothing of I-5, Mulholland Drive…

It would take weeks to write it all down.

We saw Interpol, Bjork, and Peaches…not to mention all the thousands of hot, trendy people. Every moment of this trip seemed like a surreal dream…but through it all, we persevered. After this epic adventure, I sit here and stare at my ticket stub on my desk.

It’s like the last scene of a movie where the characters can’t believe that everything happened, but it did. I slept all day today… 8 a.m. to 7 p.m. I had a bunch of messages, and tried to call everyone back when I woke up. I wasn’t able to get ahold of Patrick pretty much the whole time I was down there, but we communicated via voicemails. I was so out of it the whole time, I probably wouldn’t have made that great of a conversationalist.

I’ve had so many epiphanies… and listened to so much Interpol that I can even believe that I exist anymore. I need to sit down and make a bunch of notes and then try it to write about this. I could seriously write a novel about it.

I just got back from Coachella.

The trip back took 16 hours.

16.

Hours.

We took 40 videos. Right now, I’m going to take a shower because I feel SO disgusting.

Ah, that’s better. I feel like I lost ten pounds of grime.

I am just SO fucking exhausted. I need to write a hella long post about the show…but I’m going to do what I wanted to do the whole time: go to sleep all day long.

But let it be known for all time: Coachella fucking rocks.

Christen and I had such a surreal and amazing time. I am beyond broke right now, but I couldn’t care less. This was what I needed. This was the ultimate road trip…the one that I had fantasies about. I am SO glad we went.

The last video we took, as we were back in Sacramento.

Cool kids in the know will visit my YouTube and Flickr pages for video and picture updates. Everything I take on my phone is automatically uploaded, so yeah:

www.flickr.com/photos/dariusofthedark

www.YouTube.com/dariusofthedark

I’m taking hella videos! We just got to LA.

We’re leaving in like…well, it could be right now if Christen knocks on my door.

509 miles there, 509 miles back.

I have $15 in my bank account, and $150 available on my credit card.

I hope this caper is successful.

I have beyond no money.

But the show must go on, I guess.

I went and got my blood drawn for the testing today…and oh my god, it was horrible.

The short story is that the chick couldn’t get blood out of one arm so she stabbed the other one and right after she got done I hella passed out. But when I was passed out it was the most horrible experience I’ve ever felt…I had no body, I was falling and falling through a storm of memories, but as I tried to reach for them I would fall faster and I didn’t know who I was. It was insane.

I felt really lightheaded and woozy the whole rest of the day…I still feel like that, although it is wearing off with every hour that passes.

Annie and I had a great lunch at this Mexican place across from her work after she got off today…I was off on another planet most of the time, but I was cool. I wonder what’s in smelling salts. It smelled like ammonia almost. Wikipedia to the rescue! Oh, it really is ammonia. Odd.

Well, I’m all ready. Omg she’s here!