Early Saturday morning.

The sun is up, the birds are screaming. Yes, screaming.

Seriously, I had a dream about sharing French toast with Jerry Garcia and he was screaming loudly in a panic—enough to wake me up, and I realized it was a sea gull above my window wailing and screaming its heart out. To hell with that bird.

And I had to SCRAPE MYSELF OUT OF BED like something they found stuck to the floor of a slaughterhouse.

Back to FOSSY.

Back to #Fedicon.

My carcass wanted sleep. My brain wanted darkness. But somewhere out there a bunch of beautiful internet freaks were already gathering, so I poured myself into some clothes and joined the living.

And so far at FOSSY?

Great.

I’ve met people from all over the world. Different countries. Different accents. Different projects. People building things, breaking things, rebuilding things, and arguing passionately about extremely specific pieces of technology that 99.999% of humanity will never know exist.

In other words, my people.

Some are perfectly respectable, some suspicious, some absolute freaks.

Freaks like me.

The good kind.

The kind who get obsessed with some strange little corner of the universe and start digging until their fingernails come off.

So here I am, early Saturday morning, running on fumes and whatever electrical impulses are still jumping between the wet wires in my skull.

Fedicon at #FOSSY.

The freaks have assembled.

And somehow I made it out of the crypt in time to join them.