Ciao, motherfuckers!

Italy. Northern Italy, on the edge of those Alps. I’m in Colico, a small town neslted alongside a lake in between a couple magnificent mountain ranges. Kind of like a Vail, with no lake, without a bullshit freeway cutting down the middle, without the yahoo. Very quiet, very old, very frosty. We we stay and work is on the shady side of the valley, so, no sun will touch this side until the spring. It always feels like dusk on our side, just enough light to make out a street sign, but no enough to feel like anything before 6pm. Interesting.

We eat bread and cheese and salami. Lots of it. The Cokes have a good mixture to them, too. Oh man, the pasta. Love the fucking pasta.

We have been taken in, and shown the most amazing amount of hospitality by our hosts. Wow. A goddamn Mediterranean Sea of “grazie’s” (grot-zee = thank you) are in order for Martino, my absolute favorite little Italian meatball.

We are just about over the jet lag, battling waking up at 2:30 in the morning, as awake as the day is long, and shady. I do a little reading, munch a little bread, shave off a couple slice of salami and doze back off. We’re just about adjusted.

Things are moving right along, you bet. No photos, of course, as my rig took a shit and well, the video card is dead, or something. Real nice. I come all this way and my machine goes down. Bad news, but, we manage to make it work.